I went to work on my makeup; false eyelashes, foundation, light rouge high on my cheek bones, eyeliner and eyeshadow and a splash of perfume; musk. L...astly, I attached my sholder length curly wig. For the final touch to my outfit I pulled on my shoulder length red latex gloves and red latex boots. These boots are long gone and I wish that I could find another pair like them. They were thigh highs made by a company called Latexa and were unlined rubber pull ons, like a slightly thicker molded. You need me, my lovely. Why can't you just listen to your instincts and accept that?" I pressed the tip of my tongue against the delicate fold of skin at the base of her opening, and I slowly licked upwards, humming contentedly in response to the gasps and shrieks she made as I gradually traced my tongue along every bit of her saturated, hypersensitive skin. Her hands shot down to my head, and she again grabbed fistfuls of my hair as she desperately clung to the source of her newfound. Darlene remembered the image in the washroom mirror. Her uniform wasn't hidingmuch. Self-conscious, she tried to reach the hem of the dress to pull it furtherdown. Between the restraint belt and the handcuffs she could just brush theedge with her fingers. All she succeeded in doing was to draw his attentionto just how short it was. "Your story is so far-fetched that it has to be true. We've had people breakin before, even try to hide after hours, but not once has a single one beenfound neatly. We waited.We start the same way each time, with the Captain firing the first shot. I had counted twenty-seven Comanches before the shooting began. They were drinking McAlester's whiskey and whooping around the fire. We'd kill them before they remembered their white-women prisoners.Their captives, exhausted from being dragged along the trail, were coffled with rope around their throats near the northwest edge of their camp. I counted eleven women of child-bearing years and six girl-children. Two.