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Once in a while, she thought of breast implants, but never too seriously. Sex, like the rest of her life, had come easily and well lubricated, easy penetrations by lithe young boys, never wild or out of control. A terrycloth bathrobe and bunny slippers, she typed. Perhaps they would spot her in that article of clothing? The idea that she might be under surveillance, might be stalked, that any minute some rough man might grab her and drag her into an alley, made her stomach flutter and her nipples hard. He typed into a very select chatroom, to a very select group of friends. The Lynsey project united them, it galvanized them, giving them a sense of purpose. And there is an Italian restaurant three blocks away from her bullshit location. Humming, brimming with excitement, almost floating with sexual tension, she left the apartment. I dunno, fucking her mouth I suppose, probably tighter than her pussy. She was shocked into stillness when Ian simply upended the contents of her purse out onto the filthy ashpalt. She lost muscle control, collapsing on the filthy garbage strewn alley. Beaten, without a shred of hope or resistance in her. When she reached him, she looked up a final time, hoping for a shred of compassion. She stuck her tongue out and ran it along the leather toe of his boot... She lapped at the boot, her tongue working away the grit, smoothing the leather. Jack watched her face contort, almost able to read her thoughts as she worked her way through it all. He pulled out, his semen dripping from her lip, her expression dazed, confused and needy. You're going to walk out of here with your pussy throbbing, and all those ideas I put in your head rolling around, and you won't know if you're coming or going, you won't know up or down, you're just going to be so confused you'll swallow every bit of bullshit because I've tied your head all up in knots and your pussy is throbbing. Instead he helped the now helplessly docile Lynsey up, escorted her to his car. She built an island of stability for herself around that point. After a few nights, she had recovered herself enough to return to some of her comforting rituals, her life settling back into her old groove.