<strong><span class="bbc_u">Marko</span></strong><br/><br/>Laying their, so cognizant of the arm draped across her.  The swell of her bosoms are brushed by the large forearm of the arm.   She barely could breath.  Scared to do so, for fear she would wake you.<br/><br/>It did not matter with that.  She would have stayed awake anyways.   As she stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room.   Her life had changed.  She no longer made her own decisions.  She no longer had rights.<br/><br/>She should be appalled at such.  Especially in what she has been  made to do tonight.  At Carson's and now here back at the hotel.  Instead, she wonders if she will achieve this wetness.  This always being ready.<br/><br/>Her sleep would come in a few arms.  The letheragy of sleep would finally overtake her.