The words come, but I cannot identify their font. My memory remains elusive. “You are our plaything.”The voice sounds wrong. It sounds like it is ...ade from a synthesizer, a word I know, but a word divorced from its meaning. “What?”Pain. There is pain radiating from my balls, pain that shoots to my thighs and back. The things stuck to me are hurting me. There is screaming in my head. No – I am screaming. The pain stops and I fall limp in my restraints. “You are our plaything. You must be trained. ‘No, no, please, oh no, you mustn’t,’ she pleaded unconvincingly. Bobby still held her tightly and she just went with the erotic experience. She knew to protest would be futile at this point. She couldn’t scream for help and be found with three men in a motel room. As the new hands encircled her waist and caressed her ass, Bobby held moved her hand down onto the rock hard cock at the front of his pants. Barbara almost summoned up the courage to stop but she was too far gone. ‘Take it out. More

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