There always is the hunger, the need to taste the white slimy cream. To swallow it and paint her face with it. To feel it spurt over her tits and bell.... The scent of it, the taste.There is the craving need to quench the fire in the central void of her being. There are the gaping throats of her flesh. She wants them filled, stretched to the limit. She wants them drowned in boiling liquids, seep with juices, leak with come. Come, the magic word... cummmmmmm.She is always almost there... her weak. They had seen their food decline in quality, they had seen one of their number decapitated for an imagined slight on a visiting dignitary. The governor had picked the wrong time to have a rebellion in the locality. As he stood in front of his phalanx of body guards, facing off the crowd of armed locals, a sword point came out of his front, followed by much blood. He stood, surprised apparently, and then his head bounced from his shoulders.The slaves were revolting! They all laughed at the joke.. More

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