And how about Rebecca?

Rebecca looks worried as you exit with your daughter and another woman in a police car. She looks out at the lawn. There's a pizza car, her father's car, and what she surmises to be your SUV.

You had told her to feed and take care of your **** victim. Rebecca looked on the basement door with dread, before another woman arrived down the stairs. "Mrs. Mandy?" Rebecca asked formally to the older woman she had seen naked only a few minutes prior.

"Another one?" Mandy seemed to laugh off Rebecca's presence and she felt a little hurt. She had given her chastity to you, and had not expected anything in return, but hoped to be more than just a notch on the wall.

Before Rebecca could even broach the subject of the **** victim, Mandy was out the door. Rebecca was now alone in a big house in an unfamiliar town. Well, not alone.

First act of business was to turn off all the lights. The bay windows provided plenty of illumination, and Rebecca's Amish upbringing brought a natural distrust of technology. You can turn them on when you come back, but in the meantime, she was in charge.

She found plenty of food in the pantry, and collected some water from the faucet. The faucet was fascinating to her, much faster than her hand-pumped faucet in Godstown.

A TV tray carried a large glass of water and two elegantly made sandwiches, with a side of bananas. A knife and fork was placed on the tray if she needed it to be cut further. This would be the **** victim's Sunday breakfast.

Rebecca gingerly opened the basement door. "Hello," she whispered down the darkened staircase. No response. During a brief exploration of the home, Rebecca had found some candles in the master bedroom, and one was mildly lighting her way as she descended the steps.

As she reached the final step, Rebecca turned to find a shadowy visage tied to a beam left of the staircase. "Help me" was barely a coarse whisper that caused Rebecca to drop her tray and candle and run up the steps.

Coming to her senses, Rebecca returned to the basement a half hour later with another candle, glad that she did not set the house on fire. She looked again, slowly this time, in the direction of the **** victim.

She was asleep, and did have blue hair, to Rebecca's surprise. She had assumed "blue-hair" was some sort of English euphemism. She was completely naked and filthy, slumped down on a wooden beam. Rebecca began picking up the TV tray when...

The **** victim lunged at Rebecca, pinning her to the ground with all the strength she could muster. She held a butter knife up to Rebecca's throat.

"Where is he?" she yelled, but in a coarse whisper. Rebecca was too shocked to respond, until the victim began to dig a fork into her side.

"Aah! Church! His daughter took him to church!" Rebecca's skin had been broken slightly by the fork's prongs, although the butter knife merely caused minor bruises.

The victim was confused, both at the revelation and the fact that Rebecca didn't seem like an evil henchman. She coughed and weakened, rolled over, and fell asleep.

A few hours later, the blue-hair girl was lying in the bathtub, under a steady stream of running water. Rebecca had somehow dragged her up two flights of stairs and cleansed her as best she could, before tending to her own wounds. She was in the hallway bathroom, having removed her dress and upper underwear shirt. Topless, she was gently wiping at her wound with a washcloth.

The victim looked up at her as she awoke. "There's probably band-aids in the mirror," she whispered. Rebecca covered her large breasts with her arm. "Thank you, miss," she said to her attacker, finding one large enough to cover the wound.

Rebecca sighed and uncovered, she knelt down by the naked victim and shared her story, about being woken up by her father on the road in order to give her virginity to you after you requested it. That you needed sex every three hours.

"Oh my God," said the victim quietly, too weak to arise. "And here I thought he was an evil ****. I'm Leigh," she introduced herself giving a smile to Rebecca who smiled back.

Leigh and Rebecca shared stories under the running water of the hallway bathroom of the Doe residence. Rebecca thoroughly cleaned Leigh up, having practice in sponge baths during her late mother's illness.

Speaking more with her eyes than with her mouth, Leigh invited Rebecca's hand to focus on Leigh's pussy. "But..." Rebecca protested.

"John will love it," was all that the redhead needed to hear before going to town on the bluehead. The tub was full of cloudy water, but Rebecca didn't need to see to know what she was doing.

Leigh grabbed Rebecca's breast, and they locked eyes. And then they locked lips. Rebecca hoped you would like her to engage in this sapphic act, but subconsciously didn't care if you ever found out. Leigh forgot all her troubles. She had been through three days of hell, but it was all rewarded with three minutes of heaven. She hoped whoever you are would give her a wide berth to pursue this red-hair vixen.

"This looks like fun," you say, spotting two unexpected lesbians in your bathroom after your eventful day at church.