‘Pretty good, Cyn. Say, has Marcus been around here lately?’ Marsha asked. She was oblivious to the fact that Cynthia was painfully aware that her...cargo pants had slid down again, exposing both of her pelvic ridges and a nice expanse of skin under her belly button. Cynthia shook her head with the motion of her towel, clamping her eyes shut, trying to force the arousal from her body before her nipples tented the flimsy material. ‘Haven’t seen him. Why, is he supposed to be here?’ Cynthia asked,. A switchblade appears and he pretends to stab me barely missing my cheek and eye, laughing at my pleas and streams of tears. “Stay still or I’ll slice you from fuckhole to fuckhole,” He orders as he presses the blade against the bottom of my sternum under the middle of my thinning bra. Sawing at the straps, he cuts wildly at the wires and brushes my nipples with the tip. He pulls off the garment lifting it just under his nose then takes a big whiff. His nose wrinkles in disgust. He looks at me. More

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