‘Kathryn,’ it read, followed by a cellphone number. I reached for the next. It was a piece of card torn from the corner of a menu or some such. �...Please, please, please call me. Your Sara,’ and a number again. I felt in my pocket again, the next was also card but seemed more regularly shaped. It was a passport-type photograph of the delicate otherworldly-looking blonde girl. On the back was written, ‘Fuck me.’ There was no name, just a number. ‘What have you got there, darling?’ asked Wendy. I. ”They force her onto her knees. A firm hand on the nape of her neck presses down until her cheek is resting on the carpet. Someone is holding both of her ankles in place, and the position naturally allows for her ass cheeks to part, revealing what her tiny black thong barely hides. Agnes couldn’t be enjoying the proceedings any less, and the knowledge of what comes next makes everything inside clench tight. She thrashes in desperation, but the grip on her limbs is iron-strong.Luke can’t help. More

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