Sara Waller was in a decent little desk chair with her hands bound to the armrests and her feet to the main support of the seat. The rage was white hot. I could feel her pulse slowing under my touch. I could feel her pulse slowing under my touch. She was still hurting but she wouldn’t take her eyes off me. Next to those were two newer smartphones in designer cases. She didn’t know who to stare at. “Sara!” Erin snapped and the teen broke away from our kiss to look at her mother. Alright, boys and girls. Damp earth and fallen rain filled my nostrils. The fear was stronger in her but not as much as expected. My other hand grabbed her jaw and brought her face around to mine. She was going to be fucked. Stepping through that doorway would be the point of no return. She showed little of her thirty eight years. Every. The rage was white hot. The mantra of all those who wish to hide – to avoid notice. She was straining her neck just to keep an eye on us. The world was balanced on the edge of a knife – razor sharp and eager for blood. My body was alert. “Are you that fucking oblivious, you fucking cunt?! Hands attached to the supports at
