Q-Ball slipped his hands in over the top of Kriss' bra and kneaded her breasts directly for a while, chuckling and giggling like a kid with a new toy.  His pants were becoming increasingly uncomfortable.  It was the nature of his lifestyle - indeed, that of many people out in the wasted city - that he really didn't get laid often, and certainly never without either paying for it or taking advantage of some desperate crack whore.  He considered pulling her pants down and plunging his raging hard-on straight into her...but she was suspended a little too high to make the deed practical.  Besides, to do it by himself entailed too many risks.<br/><br/>Then a thought crossed his mind, and a smile crossed his face.  He took his hands off her and stepped back quickly, lest he become the recipient of a sharp lash of her foot.  Wordlessly, he walked around the side of the forklift, and clambered up onto the roof of it.  Shuffling forwards, he sat on the front of the top of the cab, his legs dangling in front of Kriss, with her still hanging there facing towards him so he was literally looking down at her covered face.<br/><br/>"You know I ain't been doin' this right." he said, "It's always right to look someone in the eye when yer tryna make a point, doncha think?"<br/><br/>He reached down and untied the shoelace drawstring which held the bag in place, and without much care pulled it off her head, dropping off to the side somewhere.  With her face exposed, her could suddenly see the full extent of the torture she'd recieved.<br/><br/>"Holy christ, sucks to be you girl that's all I can say."<br/><br/>Despite the damage and the filth, the impression of an extremely attractive young woman was still there, and it was more the pity that the yoke largely obstructed his view of her body from where he was sitting.  But the way her tits felt in his hands was still fresh in his memory, as was the effect it had had on him.  Smiling cruelly, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.  Reaching down and fumbling around, he produced his swollen cock and shuffled so that it pointed in her direction.<br/><br/>"Darlin', I'm gonna feel a whole lot better about everything after this.  Just you sit right there."<br/><br/>Sneering down at her, he began to stroke himself with increasing vigour, the whole time keeping his shaft angled towards her.  It was clear from the changing look on his face that it was a long, long time since he'd felt release, and that it wasn't going to take very long.  As he continued, he began to twitch and his legs rocked with pleasure, his boots occassionally knocking against Kriss' exposed and branded stomach.<br/><br/>Indeed it was less than a minute before Q-Ball felt his abdomen tense, and he ejaculated three long spurts of semen which arced and splatter onto Kriss' braced face.  Not a part of her face went unmarked; her hair, her eyes, her lips.  It was copious enough to form blobs which rolled and trickled down her face as Q-Ball whooped, hollered and gasped from his position looking down at his handiwork.  He continued to thump himself, flicking the occassional drop of his juice forward onto her.  And when he was done, he zipped up again.<br/><br/>"I think," he said, "that maybe just about puts things to rights."<br/><br/>With slightly wobbly legs, his hopped down onto the ground and walked to the front of the forklift.  With none of the care with which he'd racked her up there, he pushed the wooden yoke so that it slid off the forks and sent Kriss tumbling to the ground.  He saw no need to replace the bag; she'd already seen him and it made no difference.  Besides, he wanted her to go on her way, not be staggering around the warehouse all night keeping him awake with those bells.<br/><br/>"You be on yer way now bitch." he said, "And if by slim chance you survive beyond tonight, don't forget to tell yer friends whatchya saw here, oil drums by the barrel-load for the best price in the wasteland, yee-haw!"<br/><br/>Laughing, he simply walked away.