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Lydia Dunn arched her eyebrows. I saw no point in continuing this fishing expedition of yours. I would also comment that being my second-in-command does not give you the right to barge in here without even knocking.

And my hunch is that this company is up to something. Lydia Dunn leaned back in her chair and idly picked up a sheaf of papers from her orderly desk.

The fact was, this independent little upstart really got on her nerves. Lydia Dunn chose tailored business outfits and wore a carefully selected perfume.

Christina not only crossed the line on office demeanor; she stomped all over it. This company is making tons of money. I suspect the lovedoll business is just a cover for a high-class prostitution network.

And I would know about it through other channels if there was the slightest chance.

She took ages. One girl offered me a safety pin, but I declined saying that it was more fun this way. White lace insert high leg cupped body zombie One was shy and pulled a towel round himself quickly.

Besides, have you ever taken the trouble to inspect one of their love-dolls? Supposed to be state-of-the-art, very expensive. That would account for the revenue.

In the second place, we both know that the rich and famous can always get what they want, if they willing to pay the price.

Christina backed off.

At some commands, she would hesitate, as if on the verge of protesting. White lace insert high leg cupped body zombie I nearly bit my lip off holding back the moans that normally come out of me. So he put his hand down over hers and drew her fingers upward.

Namely, me. Dressed as you are now, Christina, you might very well pass as a recruit for a prostitution ring. Tight-fitting leather pants, a white silk blouse whose contours betrayed the absence of any kind of a bra and just enough make-up to emphasize her natural beauty.

Lydia Dunn had heard how the men in her path to promotion had been distracted by her sensuality, and how Christina had played them for what they were worth and marched over their bodies in her three-inch heels as soon as they had served their purpose.

Lydia Dunn resisted the impulse to strangle this impertinent little snit right then and there. True, Lydia acknowledged that Christina was young and smart and oh-so-attractive.

You over-the-hill bitch dyke, she thought. The address took her by surprise; she had expected some dingy office-warehouse.

But the corporate office had an address in one of the finer sections of the city. When she entered through the doors and marched up to the receptionist, Christina was struck by the fine decor of the office.

The oil paintings on the wall, the plush embroidered couch, even the fresh real flowers displayed in the vase on the Chippendale table—all seemed to have been selected with exquisite taste.

Christina had dressed the part of a hooker looking for a new gig, and felt very out of place in these elegant surroundings.

When Christina tried a few probing questions, the receptionist offered a bland and impersonal smile, nothing more. Her face, though pretty, was expressionless.

But the receptionists eyes—blank and soulless—bothered her. Christina noticed a hologram display booth in the lobby and walked over to check it out.

She pressed an indicated button, and an image about a foot tall flickered into life. Christina was impressed in spite of herself—the doll was extraordinarily life-like, and if even half the warranties were true, the doll could be quite a novelty.

Pity that all that ingenuity was devoted to such degenerate purpose, thought Christina, her nose wrinkled in disgust. Presently another woman came out and called for her.

Instead, she motioned Christina to a chair in a cubicle with what looked like some kind of eye-examination device.

Please look into the eye guards so we can register your imprint. Christina gave what she hoped was a silly-prostitute smile, and tried to hide her wariness.

She looked into the eyepieces, much like having her eyes examined. Christina found herself watching a pulsing light inside a slowly revolving spiral, on a field of total blackness.

The sparkling light blinked on and off at a steady rate. Faster and faster, brighter and brighter, her mind now totally focused to the very center of the spiral.

The strobe effect—a classic device for inducing a state resembling an epileptic fit! Chistina twisted her head frantically to one side, but the eyepieces remained strapped securing over her eyes, the vision in front of her remained stationary—compelling, irresistible.

She heard a buzzing in her ears as she began to lose consciousness. She tried one last desperate attempt to heave herself out of the chair, tear herself way from the iron grip of the hands that held her down.

But her mind was already paralyzed. She sank back in the chair, the flashes now exploding in her very brain, everything swirling around her Christine opened her eyes.

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Blurred vision, her mind fighting for orientation. Now she was on her stomach, still on a gurney or table. Her face was framed by a padded ring, so she looked down on the floor, seeing surgical shoes on white tile.

Her whole scalp felt cool, as if she had just stuck her head in a freezer. A soft moan escaped her parched lips, and she struggled feebly to raise herself.

A pair of green surgical shoes step into her line of downward vision, joining the first pair. Her arm twitched—must be an intravenous hook-up, there—and once more her consciousness dissolved into grey nothingness.

But not before she heard the metallic clink of surgical instruments brought to bear. Nightmarish episodes of getting roused from slumber, voices telling her what to do, how to stand.

Blue background, blue everywhere, except the bright lights in front.

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Hands helping her, positioning her, faces in front of her like indistinct balloons. Kaleidoscopic flashes of looking down, seeing her body in different outfits—will the real Christina please stand up?

23.01.2020 – They cover the breasts from just above the nipples and down, which is great for wear under an outfit with a low neckline. Hours later, Christina awoke. On the hanger it had seemed so demure and simple, but now when it was stretched over her high thrusting breasts and caressing her soft fluid hipline, the dress was almost blatantly sexy. She let herself be pressed against his bulky frame, her stomach rubbing his, breasts mashed against his hard rib cage. Todoroki watched his arm move, and then Katsuki nearly shot up, gasping and panting.

Just let me lie down and go to sleep. But the voices urged her on, kept prompting her like an actress forgetting her lines. Maybe she got the job, she thought.

But which job?

She smiled for the cameras in the audience. But her eyelids grew heavy, and the voices grew quiet and the lights turned dim. And in her dream, she felt herself slipping into sleep again.

At last Christina gained consciousness for real. She felt her training and self discipline kick in like faithful allies: Waking up was a matter of ascending through layers of fog, you just had to wait for your mind to clear sufficiently for you to act rationally.

She kissed his ankles and up his legs, and thought it only natural that she hand him the other end of the leash to her collar. Sexy Dresses for Women, Mini Club Dresses different sizes, designs, cuts She cracked an eyelid and saw how she was restrained in something like a dentist-chair.

Be patient. Gather your strength. She felt straps against her arms, waist, and legs. She cracked an eyelid and saw how she was restrained in something like a dentist-chair.

Looking down over the swell of her breasts, she saw how the body suit followed the contours of her curves to perfection.

She felt some kind of phallic device intruding deep inside her pussy, but could see nothing between her legs except a few wires leading off table.

When she tried to move her head to look around the room, she felt a tightened band around her forehead that prevented her.

Even that slight effort made her wince at the stab of a headache. A residual effect of the mind-inducer, she wondered, or did she injure herself during her capture?

A particular ache throbbed just behind her right ear. Then Christina remembered the surgical surroundings earlier, and had to fight down her panic.

She kept her eyes closed. About forty years old, she judged. His physique was solid, but not over muscular. His business suit had a cut that suggested a London tailor, but other than that, his type could be found in any corporate boardroom.

Grey eyes, with irises flecked with black. And rimless glasses—you looked at the eyes behind those no-nonsense glasses and kept your distance. Christina loathed him immediately.

And they apparently knew her real name!

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Christina hated the idea of being out-maneuvered by a man. Can we get you something to drink, some cold water perhaps? Right now.

Otherwise, you and your creepy little outfit will find yourselves in more trouble than you could even conceive.

I was not aware that agents of the Sex Crimes Commission needed a second job to make ends meet. They really ought to do something about the pay scales of your agency.

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Christina said nothing, her cover blown already. This whole love-doll business is just a front for something illegal. What do you got going here, a nice little kidnap-and-prostitution ring?