The fucking was slow and rhythmic, each thrust of that cock was met which her hips pushing back to meet it, to meet “his” thrust. I couldn’t he...p but to come to the conclusion that she was with “him” again, and had been since the moment she’d left me to come to bed. Her left hand was leaving visible white imprints on first one breast then the other as “he” squeezed each to the point of pain. Her shoulders arched with each squeeze and a I witnessed a sensuous wave role through her body right. It all seemed so damned normal, like any of a million cabins aboard a thousand generic passenger liners. Considering the circumstances, she should be seeing manacles, medical scanners and, if you wanted to be really macabre, torture devices.She opened the closet, true to Minerva's word, her pack was there and, hanging from a bar, inside one of those clever anti-static fields and obviously freshly laundered, was the dress she had worn to dinner. Taking her pack from the closet and dumping it on. More

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