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She moves towards the window, her naked body looking stunning in the sunlight. Silently I move. The hood immediately removes her sight. Holding a cold...butter knife to her throat I Whisper, “Don’t scream and you will live through this.” As I say this both of her hands go for the hand holding the knife. “Don’t move. Are you going to scream?” She shakes her head.Pulling her hands behind her back, she hears the clicks of the handcuffs as they close. I slip fingers under her left boob. Her heartbeat. As soon as she started the vibrator, she started moaning and I asked in a shock, “what the hell is going on?” All laughed loudly. I felt ashamed, as if I had asked a wrong question.Now Hetal was taking video of Hema. She also masturbated for 15-20 mins and squirted. She also laid down and relaxed and handed that long dildo to me. I was like what do I do with this. I said I don’t want to do anything like this. Hetal said that then I should take the video while she masturbates. She removed her. I asked where she rode and she told me she had a preferred trail she rode down in Orange Park at the Westside Park, near the air station. I suddenly felt dizzy and she looked concerned as I stumbled a bit, my equilibrium suddenly lost in the time and space of the ballroom. The song ended and I recovered my grace and asked her to stay out on the dance floor with me for yet another slow dance song. I looked her in the eye, through my glasses and hers and I asked her in a hushed tone if she was. Her nail polish changed from blood red to black depending on her emotion: fierce anger or morbid depression.Worse, she had to face a whole buttload of strangers for her junior year in high school. Her clique of misfits--friendships well entrenched from years of school together in Englewood, New Jersey--had been torn from her. She had no illusions that any of the local yokels in this nowhere town barely on the edge of civilization would welcome her as a friend. And she couldn't imagine opening.
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