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1 Heather leaned back against the post and shut her eyes. Her body was slick with sweat, and the dirt of the floor. She waited for a good thirty minutes, then scooted on her haunches as far from the post as the handcuffs allowed. Extending her foot she was able to get one of her toes around the tattered shorts, tugging them back with her towards the post. She curled her legs up beside her, wincing at the burn it caused her strained thigh muscles. At last, she got them to where she could grab them with her hands. For the first time in what seemed forever, she smiled. Her FIT training had taught her nothing if not to prepare for multiple types of situations. Carefully sewn into the waistband was a metal wire. She had been afraid they might discover it when they cut away her clothing, but the men had been so intent on seeing what was underneath they never noticed.
It was laborious. What normally would have taken seconds, took many minutes due to the numbed nature of her arms, and the fact that they were secured behind her. But at last enough of the fabric parted to expose the metal tip, and from there it was easily removed. Getting to the lock mechanism proved difficult, but Heather was patient. She had done this hundreds of time in her sleep, but always then, her hands and fingers were less stressed. After several cursed failures, she at last succeeded, the cuffs springing free. She brought her arms around to the front, and carefully removed the awful nipple clamps, examining the deep groves left in her delicate flesh. She massaged the aching joints, and stretched some life back into her pained shoulders. Her ankle bonds were easily seen to, but then came the real challenge. Heather had no clothes, and no idea where she was. She decided for now, she’d have to make do with her tattered remnants still lying scattered about on the floor. Playing the part of a peasant seamstress, she assembled them into makeshift clothing, and crept out of the dank room. It led into a workshop, and there she found a pair of shop overalls, as well as a ball cap. She slipped into the overalls, turning her nose at how her sore nipples rubbed against the rough fabric, stuffed her hair under the cap, and set off in search of a way out.
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The scene the next morning in the bowels of the old coal plant was not pleasant. Mallory cursed a blue streak, then ordered everyone away except for Katrina and Samantha. Samantha let out a muffled laugh from behind her gag, which drew a barrage of stripes across her tits with the switch.
“How the fuck....” Mallory hissed.
Katrina said nothing, instead kneeling and holding up the piece of wire near the cuffs.
“Damn her,” Mallory spat. “DAMN HER”
She turned to Samantha. Grabbing a length of thin leather, she tied it around the girls strap holding the teen’s wrists some six inches apart in front of her. She threaded it between her legs and up to the leather welding her elbows behind her back. She looped it over those bindings, and pulled hard, the leather sinking deep into her crotch. Once it was as tight as she could manage, she tied it off to those elbow bonds, not concerned in the least with the distress it caused their young captive.
“These next days will not be at all pleasant for you,” Mallory hissed menacingly.
Grabbing the crotch-rope from the front, the three hastily left.
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Heather sat in the back of the limousine, her mind a blur. She hated not being able to free Sam, but as Keri had told her, the young girl was relatively safe as long as she was free. And she was. She had found some mail which contained the address of the building, realizing she was only a short distance outside of Vegas. One of a handful of trucks parked in the makeshift parking lot had its keys in the ignition, and she used the opportunity to hightail it back to the metropolitan area. At one of the posh resorts on the edge of the city, she made a phone call to headquarters under the watchful eye of a desk clerk who wasn’t accustomed to seeing clientele dressed as she was. In minutes the clerk received payment, and Heather was escorted to a room at his obvious disgust. Heather would make it a point to later introduce herself, once she had cleaned up and slipped into scant, and see if he still thought her unfit for such a place.
But a hot shower, some food, and a wardrobe were her first priorities. Once those items were out of the way, she found herself craving companionship. She knew that such an upscale resort would have a goodly number of eligible bachelors running around, so she decided to take a spin on the casino floor to see what was available. She made an eye-popping sight, wearing a red halter style mini-dress with a deep “V” front. It looped around her neck at the back with a spaghetti strap, then the two panels tapered out to cover her breasts coming together again several inches below her navel. Another spaghetti strap brought the two panels towards one another a couple of inches below her breasts, allowing her some modesty when she bent over. It continued at a similar point from the side of the panels around her back, leaving the rest of her back and sides bare. The outer edges of the fabric flared at the hips, going around behind her and just covering the swell of her ass. Matching red high heeled sandals and loop earrings completed the outfit.
She took a seat at a roulette table, watching for a time as a young man built a small fortune. Heather took a liking to him. He was probably about twenty-five, athletically built, and somewhat casually dressed for a place such as this. He wore a blue pressed long-sleeved shirt, with khaki slacks, and loafers with no socks. He nodded and smiled as Heather sat down, and didn’t seem particularly impressed with her, but not rude either. After several spins of the pea, Heather slapped down a goodly stack of chips, all on red. That seemed to get his attention.
The pea was released, and bounded around for a time, almost settling on black, but alas skipping over into a red slot. Heather smiled as the wad of chips was doubled, and let it ride. Two more times, she came up a winner, at which point Heather decided this wasn’t going to lead to anything more than a good economical endeavor, and she indicated she wanted to cash out. The man in the pit nodded and replaced her winnings with the higher value chips, and she turned to leave.
“Red seems to be your color,” the man smiled.
“Am I blushing?” she teased.
“Not anywhere I can see,” the man joked back, taking a look at her entirety.
“I’m not really much for gambling,” Heather smiled, turning to leave.
“Could I buy you a drink?” the man asked.
“They’re free here, aren’t they?” she said, bending over as if to something off the floor.
“It’s much quieter over there,” the man motioned to a mostly empty lounge off to the side.
Heather looked at him for a minute.
“Think we can afford it,” she laughed.
With that, the man indicated he too was ready to call it good, and the tow left the table with a small fortune.
The two spent the next couple of hours in the lounge making small talk. Heather learned his name was Lee, and that he and his father co-owned an asphalt company in Alabama. Business had been good, so Lee had decided to take a week and enjoy himself. Heather told him she worked in fashion design, and had even designed her own dress.
“I see why you’re successful,” Lee said toasting to success.
Finally, Heather told him she was ready to turn in for the evening. Their eyes met briefly, and each saw in the other a loneliness born of a life without an abundance of passion. Heather stood and turned to leave, then turned back.
“Tell me you’re not married,” she asked.
“Don’t have time,” he said.
There was an awkward silence, then Heather extended her hand. He grabbed it, the two leaving together for her suite.
They were no more in the door when they turned to face each other, and then embraced in a long probing kiss. Heather slipped out of her heels, her hands seeking his belt, while Lee peeled his shirt. He slipped his hands under the spaghetti straps, pulling the panels to the side. Heather’s erect nipples made the task more difficult, but at last they popped free, her large breasts bobbing on her chest. His hands moved to them, cupping their fullness, his thumbs rubbing the nipples still tender form the previous night. Heather forced the dress down over her hips and stepped out of it. Her black thong followed, and the two embraced once again, moving towards the bedroom as they explored each other. Somewhere along the way Lee lost his boxers, his erection caught between Heather’s thighs. She squeezed her legs, pumping more blood into his stiff member, then they fell back onto the bed. He eagerly licked at her engorged nipples, as she looked at him with glassy eyes. A minute later she was impaled on him, her legs wrapping around his waist as if he might change his mind. They rolled over so Lee was on his back, his hands filling with the warm muscularity of her firm butt, forcing her onto him harder. Heather tossed her hair back, and the sight of her with her large, firm breasts bounding energetically up and down excited him further. She rode him hard, his size filling her, her natural lubrication making the journey up and down as pleasurable for him as it was for her. He suppressed a desire to explode, successfully savoring the moment until she too could be pleasured, then finally they came as one, his hot sperm filling her as if shot form a cannon. Heather knelt there for a moment, feeling his fullness subside inside of her. She bent over, her firm breasts squashing against his chest, her lips pressed against his.
“Does this always happen when a man buys you a drink,” he grinned.
“Only after my chips are cashed in,” she laughed.
She left from the bed, returning moments later with a wet wash rag. She tenderly cleaned him, then knelt on the bed, taking the length of his penis into her warm mouth. Lee felt himself coming around once more, her breathtaking beauty making the task much easier. She worked slowly up and down, her hand, gently squeezing his testicles. Her long hair draped across his thighs, and the vision of her muscular back was an attractive sight from where he lay. She soon had him back to a stiff erection, guiding him once again inside her. Her vaginal muscles clenched him, and several minutes later she had once again milked him dry, her cries of pleasure merging with his. They lay together for a time, quietly, their bodies spent. Eventually, they dozed off in each other’s arms. For Lee, there were pleasant thought that the rest of his vacation might be spent in this nightly passion. For Heather, she knew it wouldn’t be.
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“When we are done here, once I have thoroughly fucked the shit out of you, you are going to lick me like a dog licks peanut butter,” Mallory hissed, her voice breaking with the thrusting motions.
Much to Samantha’s regret, Mallory’s word seemed to be coming true. The plane ride that morning out of Vegas took them back to the high desert country, and Mallory had wasted no time in seeing that Samantha got right down to business.
Samantha was whimpering, the sounds varying with Mallory’s thrusts. She was tied down, her wrists and elbows belted tight behind her, and flat on the floor. A cord ran from them to ring in the floor some feet away. Her legs had been folded up over her head and her ankles had been bound individually to rings at the other end of the room. Her position resembled that of someone doing a somersault. Mallory was fucking her with a large green strap-on, belted tightly around her hips. Samantha couldn’t imagine how the thing stayed on in the face of such furious onslaught. Neither girl was deriving a great deal of physical pleasure form the endeavor, but Mallory was certainly enjoying it more. It seemed to be a statement of ‘I can do whatever I want with you’ kind of thing.
True to her word, when she finally tired of raping the young blonde, she untied her legs, and dragged her to a kneeling position, then fastened her ankles to her thighs. She removed the strap-on, grabbing a handful of Samantha’s blonde locks and shoving her nose into her nude pussy. Samantha heeded the advice, eagerly licking Mallory’s pussy until she heard the woman begin to gain pleasure. She continued on, her tongue beginning to cramp from her rapid thrusts, until finally Mallory’s thighs trembled, and Samantha felt the warm slick juices coating her sliding down her throat. Samantha paused, but Mallory crammed her face back into her steamy sex.
“Clean me, you little bitch,” she demanded.
Samantha clenched her eyes, and finished the task fearful of what might happen if she didn’t.
When she was done, Mallory undid her legs, dragging the girl to her feet. Her mouth and face were glistening with Mallory’s juices, and her tits were thrust out from the elbow bonds. Mallory slipped a collar around her neck, and by way of a snap-on leash, escorted Samantha back to the shower.
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AT 5:30 am Heather snuck out of her room, leaving an exhausted Lee to awake to an empty bed hours later. From a secure phone in the lobby she phoned Keri, who asked if she was interested in an assignment.
“What is it? She asked.
“Do you have private on-line access?” Keri asked.
“There’s a terminal in the lounge here at the resort,” Heather answered.
Keri sighed. Heather seemed to always be living high on the town. Of course she was unaware of what her blonde friend had to endure to earn it.
“Go to our assignment page and type in 7228799-9942,” Keri said. “You’ll get the details there. It might just be up your alley.”
After the conversation ended, curiosity got the better of her, and she heeded Keri’s advice. It was an interesting assignment. There had been a flurry of F.I.R.M activity in the San Diego area, and they had been able to determine vacant properties were being use by them to finance their shady activities. In short, they were using vacant or abandoned buildings to house chop shops, and to smuggle large amounts of drugs into the country. There had been some question as to how they were going about finding these properties, and some investigative work had turned up an unlikely source. Heather looked at the screen, downloaded some two pages of information to the printer nearby, sent the order for her transportation to pick her up, then closed out the screen.
She tucked the information into her tote bag, took a look around the lobby, and left.
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Bailey Boswell settled into her chair and logged on to the company computer. It was becoming an easy task for her, the anxiety of her earlier late night escapades giving way to confidence that she wouldn’t be caught. Bailey was a 17 year old high school graduate spending the summer working at her dad’s company. It didn’t pay much, and that had been disappointing, but her father told her that he would foot the bill for her tuition at the college of her choosing if she worked the summer for him. She spent her days working and her night partying. It was a boring lifestyle until she met the strange new friend. Elizabeth was everything Bailey had never been. She was tough, carefree, seemingly had loads of cash, and also had some ideas as to how Bailey could get rich as well. It was a relationship that started midway through her senior year, and gradually Elizabeth Summers had brought the young teen into the F.I.R.M organization. Bailey didn’t know all about the renegade group. But she liked what she saw. Here was a chance for adventure. It was kind of like living the life of a spy, and the more of it she saw, the more of it she liked. It seemed simple enough. All they wanted was for her to get information of newly abandoned property, or foreclosures, and secretly remove the property from the public listings. Then the organization would obtain the property for a fraction of its worth, using the abandoned buildings to fund their activities in the form of chop-shops, and drug smuggling. Bailey made a tidy sum, and no one at Lancelot Mortgage seemed to notice.
Bailey had the type of body that got most girls her age into trouble. She stood 5' 7" tall and weighed 122 lbs. She had nice round thirty-three inch breasts that fell firmly in the C-cup range. That all tapered down to a twenty-two inch waist, before widening to thirty-two inches at the hips. She had brown eyes, and brown flawless skin. Her hair was long and dark brown, and very straight. She had fought that part for a time, but nothing she did seemed to give it body, so she left it alone and grew to like it.
She always dressed nicely when she did her mischief. She figured if she ever got caught she would make up an excuse for needing to catch up on work, but up to now, no excuse had been necessary. On this evening she wore a short black cotton dress, and platform sandals, all of which showed her lovely long legs, and her red toenails beautifully. Above that she wore a white tank top, tight fitting, that exposed her midriff, and the dainty silver chain that fell from her belly piercing. A pair of shell earrings dangled from her lobes, the silver chain glinting in the fluorescent lighting of the small office.
It could have been any of a dozen previous nights. Bailey did her thing, then sent the information via her laptop to Elizabeth. She was wrapping up her work, proud that a couple of prime locations were now off the public listings. That would bring her a tidy sum. She logged off the computer, and turned to leave, and that was where the routine came to an end. In the doorway of the small office was the spandex clad form of a woman. The spandex was all black, and Bailey could see by the contours that the stranger was well endowed. A black ball cap sat on her head, and it appeared her hair had been wound, and tucked up under the cap. A few blonde strands peeked out, a few more running to her shoulders near her ears.
“You’ve been a bad girl Miss Boswell,” Heather said.
“Who the fuck are you?” Bailey demanded, grabbing her laptop and her notes.
Heather laughed.
“I’m your Fairy Godmother come to set you straight,” Heather smiled.
“Get out of here,” Bailey spat, her anger equaling her fear.
“Or what, you’ll call your father?” Heather smiled.
Bailey was silent. This woman knew more than Bailey could have imagined.
“What do you say you and I sit down and have a look at that laptop? Heather smiled moving towards the teen.
There was a desk between the two of them, and Bailey made a dash towards the door behind her. Heather smiled and leaped onto the desk in one bound, and leapt through the door with the next. She tackled the teen, the laptop spinning away from her and across a tile portion of the floor.
It was an unequal struggle. Heather was a trained fighter versed in a number of combat arts. Bailey was a looker who finagled her way out of tight spots with her body, and an ability to stretch the truth, neither of which would serve her now. Heather planted herself in the middle of the girls back, and yanked her head up.
“Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?” she hissed.
Bailey fought for all she was worth trying to buck the woman off her back.
“As you wish,” Heather said calmly, stuffing the teen’s mouth with a nerf ball.
She released the girl’s hair momentarily, scooting forward to pin Bailey’s arms to her sides as she fastened the foam ball in place with a zip-tie. Bailey was making muffled noises through the foam ball, and those turned to desperate squeals when her arms were jerked up perpendicular to her back, and joint-locked in place. Heather swung her legs around them in a graceful motion, locking them into a painful position that freed her hands to do further work.
“You’re running with a bad crowd, Miss Boswell,” Heather hissed, crossing the girls wrists and zip-tying them tight. “They’re just using you to get what they want.”
Bailey was kicking her feet up and down, whimpering into the gag. Her whimpers turned to wails as another tie went around her elbows, cinching them tightly together as well.
Heather unfurled her legs allowing Bailey’s arms to drop to a more comfortable position. The young girl immediately twisted them around, working her wrists in a vain attempt to loosen the ties.
“I wouldn’t trouble yourself,” Heather grinned. “Those ties would hold a linebacker.”
Bailey glared at her captor.
“Have a seat, Miss Boswell,” Heather said shoving Bailey into a side chair.
She retrieved the laptop from the floor and brought it over to the girl, pulling up a chair beside her. She flipped it open, waiting for the login screen to appear. As she waited, she reached over and snipped the tie holding the foam ball in place. Bailey immediately spit the offending ball to the floor.
“Let me go right now!!” Bailey spat.
Heather looked at the girl with a smirk.
“Well now, you help me out a bit, and I’ll see what I can do,” Heather cautioned the girl.
“Go fuck yourself you bitch,” Bailey snarled. “My friends will nail you good for this.”
“Your friends are your problem,” Heather admonished her. “Slime takes all kinds of different persona, and don’t think they won’t kick you to the curb the first time you piss them off.”
“Who the hell are you?” Bailey hissed, once again working her arms feverishly against her bonds.
“I told you, I’m your Fairy Godmother,” Heather said. “Now, let’s get down to business. Your password please.”
Bailey pouted. Then the anger returned.
“My password is Y-O-U-C-U-N-T” she smirked.
“OK, you get one pass,” Heather said matter-of-factly. “Try again.”
“Oh, that didn’t work,” Bailey angrily replied. “How about P-I-S-S-O-N-Y-O-U.”
Heather calmly set the laptop down, and moved over to the girl.
“Get up,” Heather commanded.
“NO!!” came the emphatic reply.
Heather reached down and grabbed the girl by her nipples, her strong hand bringing a yelp of pain even with the tank-top and bra between. It was enough to convince her to comply. Heather grabbed a pair of scissors.
“One more chance to give me the password,” she snarled.
“Never,” Bailey said defiantly.
Heather slipped the sharpened blade under the front of the tank top, and slit it neatly from bottom to top. Another two cuts at the shoulders and it fell free.
“What are you, some kind perverted lesbo?” Bailey queried angrily.
“Only half the time,” Heather smiled.
Bailey stood staring dumbfounded. Her arms were beginning to hurt, but even worse was the way her breasts were shoving against the cups of her lacy, teal colored bra. Heather raised the scissors up, and seconds later Bailey’s tits popped into view, fine and round, and no tan-lines.
“You stinking bitch,” Bailey fumed. “How dare you.”
“You can stop this little exercise any time,” Heather shot back.
“And you can save your stinking ass by letting me go,” Bailey shot back.
She once again twisted her arms, but succeeded only in jiggling her exposed breasts.
“Very well,” Heather sighed. “It’s your choice.’
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Bailey Boswell had no idea how long it had been. The nightmarish evening had turned into the nightmarish morning. She had been stripped, bound, humiliated, and left to be discovered by whoever got to the office first. She whimpered and struggled once again against her bonds, the dildo still humming merrily away inside her.
It had taken a great deal of time, and at one point she got the distinct impression that her antagonist was greatly enjoying herself. The turning point had been the binder clips. Bailey held out admirably until then. But when the sensitive flesh was harshly pinched between the two edges of the cold steel, she caved.
Heather accessed the laptop, spending about a half hour going through the sent files, and then forwarding the information to headquarters. Once the binder clips came off, Bailey was back in form, cursing the blonde agent with a venomous tirade that eventually landed her in her current predicament. And it was indeed a predicament. Her wrists and elbows were still tightly zip tied behind her back, her arms having long since lost all feeling. She had been bent over the back of a heavy high-backed chair, and her ankles were affixed to the back legs with more plastic ties keeping her legs spread. She was naked except for her platform sandals, and her teal colored panties which had been knotted at the side so they dug into her waist. The purpose of this was to keep the dildo in place, humming away like a butterfly inside her. Her belly was over the top of the chair back, and a piece of phone cable was tied to her wrists, and then up to a plant hook in the ceiling. Her arms had been pulled into the air, keeping her bent over, her stomach rubbing against the leather chair. Her hair had been knotted to her elbows, so that her head was pulled up and back, drool spilling down her chin around the foam ball once again packed into her mouth, and pooling on the seat of the chair. Heather had taken the liberty of cutting her black skirt and fashioning a blindfold over Bailey’s dark eyes. Another strip went around her ears cutting off most sound.
And that was how Grace Green found her. Grace had not slept well. The 38 year old former model had started working at Lancelot Mortgage only a week before. She felt that since she couldn’t sleep, maybe she could go in early to work and get some things organized. She still had that look about her that would turn men’s heads, though the radiance of her youth was behind her. Her dark hair was cut short now, but it still shone and had nice body. Her large breasts had perhaps drooped a bit by model standards, but still pushed against the front of her blouse nicely. Her legs were probably the best part of her anatomy. Long and firm, she exercised regularly to keep the effects of age at arm’s length, and they showed them off beautifully in the black spike heels.
She was well inside the office before she first noticed anything was wrong. She had avoided turning on the large bank of florescent lights, not wanting anyone driving by to notice anyone was there. So it was that she practically bumped into Bailey, as she moved through the office. At first, she thought someone had been hurt, as she heard the muffled grunts of the pained girl. She stepped back, and for the first time realized just what the situation was. She stood motionless for a time, both curious, and wary, that maybe someone was still in the office and might not appreciate her being there. After a time, she realized no one else was around, and her curiosity took over. She was reasonably sure she had not been detected. Grace examined the sleek, long legs, trembling as they were from the strain of the position. She gasped. She knew those legs. They belonged to Bailey Boswell. The little tramp had come to the office to play out her kinky fantasies. She started to turn and leave, but turned back. Her bondage wasn’t the kind that would be mutually agreed upon. The plastic ties were cruelly applied; the position demanding. Bailey was sweating heavily from the strenuous position. This was no lover’s game. She saw the laptop, opened and on. She crept over to it, and looked at the multiple emails. A smile crept across her face. So, the little bitch was backstabbing her own father. How interesting. Then she heard the humming. She’d heard it originally, but thought it was just a machine humming in the background. She saw Bailey squirm her hips, and she knew that something was rattling around inside her. She crept back over and stood next to the young teen. Then she reached down and grabbed Bailey’s breasts. Bailey jerked like someone who had just about stepped on a snake, her muffled moans becoming urgent. Those moans turned into wails as the tightly bound girl realized this person was not there to rescue her. Grace pinched and squeezed the lovely nipples, remembering the chastisement Bailey had given her for spilling a cup of coffee in the break room. That had only been the first of a steady stream of insults directed her way. Bailey found fault in most everything Grace did, from having too many pens on her desk, to taking a package next door that was delivered to the wrong address. And she wasn’t about to allow this chance at retribution to pass. She walked behind the girl, her hand slipping between Bailey’s legs to feel the dildo buzzing away just under the lace panties. The panties were soaked with both sweat, and the girl’s own lubrication.
She stepped back, and it was all she could do to keep from busting out laughing. Bailey’s ass was quivering, and Grace decided it to be too good a target to pass up. She walked to a nearby closet, and grabbed a yardstick out of an umbrella holder, and returned. She took her best two-handed baseball grip, reared back, and let fly. The resulting smack immediately sent the teen into hysterics. Her wrists twisted in the tight ties, and Grace stopped long enough to be certain nothing was coming loose. It wasn’t. Whoever had done this knew what they were doing. So Grace continued, loving every solid blow until the young brat’s behind began to glow crimson. After ten minutes or so, Grace decided it was enough. She returned the yardstick to its place, and then walked back over to the bound girl. She reached out and pinched the nostrils shut, grinning as the frightened Bailey once again began to thrash around. She held them for a good minute, then released them, watching as they flared open and shut in an effort to regain lost oxygen. She looked at her watch. As much as she was enjoying herself, Grace decided it would be best to leave before some other insomniac showed up and spoiled the party. So she left as quietly as she came, leaving the helplessly restrained teen to be discovered several hours later.
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Heather took the red-eye from San Diego to Seattle, meeting up with Keri there. The two spent the morning at Pike Street Market, then had a bowl of clam chowder for lunch, and then walked around the downtown killing time. Keri had dinner plans with one of the brass F.I.T members that evening. She didn’t tell Heather, but she was hoping to get some information on where Samantha and Alicia might be held. She didn’t want to get her friend’s hopes up, so she would wait until after the meeting to dispense any information, if indeed there was any.
“So how did things go in San Diego?” Keri asked.
Heather laughed.
“Fine,” she smiled. “I don’t think those rats will have their way down there for a time.”
“Tell me,” Keri went on, “what’s it like drawing information out of an unwilling subject.”
“Depends on the subject,” Heather sighed.
“OK, more specifically, what’s it like drawing information out of a beautiful, young, unwilling subject,” Keri laughed.
Again, Heather smiled.
“You rather enjoyed it, didn’t you?” Keri said, stopping and putting her hands firmly on her hips.
“That surprises you?” Heather asked. “You said it might be up my alley.”
Keri bit her lip.
“Do you ever worry that you will become like those people?” she finally said.
“Keri.....” Heather said disgustedly.
“I’m just asking,” Keri said.
They walked without talking. Heather was wrestling with what her friend had said. There was more than a grain of truth to it. Heather found that she had indeed enjoyed herself. In the midst of her interrogation of the young teen, she found herself secretly hoping Bailey Boswell would hold out, maybe calling for more extreme measures. She had known from the beginning that she could extract the needed information in short order, but elected instead to draw it out. She chided herself into believing it was for the girl’s own good, but deep down she enjoyed the role of tormenting her. After arriving in Seattle early that morning, she had checked into the hotel, and gone to bed still hearing Bailey’s moans of pleasure as she had been toyed with. It seemed she could even smell the girl’s fragrance on her pillow, and feel the firmness of her youthful breasts against her fingers. She had struggled with those feeling all morning, and now, as if on cue, her friend brought them close to the surface once again.
“Well,” Keri said at last, “maybe I can help you through it later,” she smiled.
The two shared a laugh before parting ways.
“See you around 8 tonight,” Keri said, giving her a peck on the cheek.
Heather nodded, and watched Keri walk away.
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