And here's another fucking cliché, right? No sooner did I make that half-hitch step that leads into a run, but my heel caught on something (the...e's always something, even if there's nothing. That's what the scriptwriters rely on, right folks?). My hands hit the pavement at the same time as hands grabbed me by the collar of my tee shirt and the top of my hair.I heard the fabric of my shirt rip from the collar to the hem down the back (unbelievably thinking at the time, "of course, the. Sweat beaded up on the Slave’s back as the spotlights went purple. Mary ran her tongue down the spine and the spotlight went stark white, then light blue. James was now at the front of the platform, his organ thrust in the Slave’s mouth, forcing her compliance, his hands on her head and driving his entire short length into her mouth. Kelly’s hand roamed the Slave’s belly, her breasts, and down to her bare pubis, squeezing hard. Mary reached below, her fingers straying inside and finding the. More

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