"Yeah, yeah, we know that, but you've been fucking Clete."

DesirЋe turned away. How did they know about Clete? It mortified her that anyone should know, but it had only been once that she knew of, or at least remembered well, for Hemmings' hypnotic manipulation of her mind had made her forget the first time, weeks ago, when under the influence of drugs that Priscilla Devereaux had slipped into her drink and she had allowed the older girl to seduce her into a position where Clete had been able to fulfill his dream of using her hot, wet baby cunt for his own pleasure.

"Now, DesirЋe, before he gets back I want you to understand that you're going to have to please him, any way you can. If he says jump, you say how high. If he wants you to suck his cock or eat his shit, you do it, just because he's got the gun, and don't believe he won't use it."

DesirЋe spun, her arms crossed over her breasts, shivering with fear. "I don't think I can go through with it. I'm not a dancer, I've never done… that."

Sam said slowly, in words spaced for effect, "You will have to, and do it well. Keep a big smile on your face, move like a belly dancer, push your crotch forward, and show him your pussy. Take your clothes off, all of them, slowly, but not too slowly, and whatever he tells you to do, don't say no. You do. You watch me, and I'll show you exactly how and when and what. And don't let your smile slip. You want him to think you like him, and if you show anything else, well, remember, he's got the gun. Bright eyes and a smile, don't forget, and if you turn him on, so much the better for you."

DesirЋe opened her mouth with alarm. "Turn him on! But if he gets turned on, what then?"

Sam was glad that his friend returned before he had to give an answer to that question. He didn't like being in the middle of the lovely young woman's outraged innocence and Billy's lust for vengeance. There was little more he could do for her short of physically confronting his unstable friend.