There were twelve pages in all, each featuring a different male organ before, during, and after servicing her cunt, as he was now thinking of it. When... she reached the last one, she asked, “Do you recognize this one?” He looked closely and it was his. He didn’t remember her taking those pictures.“As I told you, this is been put away for a long time but I got it out this month.” He did have a hardon by now which she ignored. Each of the pages had been dated and when she turned to the next one he. In theory, the refugees were flown out to an offshore Confederacy base in order of arrival. She and Solomon had been issued with their numbers when they were registered on their first day in the camp. The problem was that the queue moved so slowly. The Confederacy could only take a limited number of refugees, and there were influential people who used their clout to take up seats on the flights. It would take much too long for the two of them to get to the head of the queue in the normal way.. So was he.The object of the Game, insofar as he understood it, was to demonstrate self-control. To hold back from coming. To delay orgasm as long as possible.As a newcomer, he had been accorded the "honor" of being Game Master. This meant he could choose any of the other participants, any of the other people in the room. Women or men. Singly or in groups. In any combination. He could then perform whatever non-injurious acts upon them that he desired. He could have vaginal, oral, or anal sex. He'd not seen Dempsy for a few days now, Greeson was almost afraid that the man was through with him. So intent was Greeson that he almost missed when Dempsy entered the room. Laying back completely on the mat Greeson felt the swift blow barely miss him. Springing up Greeson smiled at Dempsy. "It is good to see you again master." "You were careless! I should have killed you! If I catch you that detached again I will kill you on the spot. Always be aware of where you are and what is around.