Earl modifies her costume while Bobby makes a 'business card' of sorts

"Rachel," Bobby finally said when she had her hands clean of bodily fluids other than her own saliva. Rachel looked up at him warily and he smiled as he pulled some things from his pocket.

"Why don't we go outside again, now that you're done cleaning up," Bobby winked, and Rachel's cheeks turned red.

"I'm dirty," she said, but before she could elaborate the men laughed.

"You sure are," Earl smirked taking her hands and pulling her to her feet.

Rachel's eyes widened and she tried to pull away from Earl as standing revealed the purpose of the clips he'd attached from stockings to skirt. When standing the stockings and skirt were separated by about three to four inches of skin. The small but powerful clips Earl had attached between skirt and stocking had no elasticity to them and attempted to bridge a three inch gap with but an inch of biting steel. As she straightened the stockings stretched a half an inch, the dress not at all, and her breasts made up the difference, pulled downward to take up the slack.

"Come along, Rachel," Bobby said, eyes alight as he saw what Earl had done.

"But..." she began, only to be pulled forward by Earl until she stumbled to a halt by the outer door of the room they'd gangbanged her in.

"First," Bobby said, handing her a list. "This is a list of the names of the eight most important people here that will help you. Make nice to them like you did with us and tell them that the name beside theirs sends you 'with compliments'. They'll know what it means."

Bobby held out a pad and pen. "Write down your full name, address, and cell phone number."

"What? Why?" Rachel asked suspiciously, forgetting for the moment her efforts to free herself from Earl and remove the clips that were dragging on her aching breasts.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Alright, I guess this was for nothing. I mean, if no one knows how to contact you I don't see how they can help you."

"Oh!" Rachel brightened, and wiggled her fingers toward the proffered pen and paper. Earl reluctantly let her go and she started writing.

"Sixteen pages," he told her, and at her quizzical look smiled and explained. "There's eight of us here who might get ahold of you, and eight out there. Oh, and put your agent's name and number."

"Oh," Rachel stopped. "I don't have an agent. Well, not here. Back home I do."

Bobby's brows raised, and he fought to contain his excitement. "You don't have an agent?"

"Um, no. Is that a problem?" She asked with concern. Was all this for nothing?

Bobby smiled again, waving it aside. "Probably not. Just write 'IP' under it."

"What's that mean?" she asked.

'Independent Prostitute,' he thought to himself, but aloud said, "Independent."

Rachel wrote quickly but made efforts to be as legible as possible, especially after the guys pointed out several times that her handwriting wasn't very neat. It was laborious and slow to a girl used to texting or typing, and she was uncomforatbly aware that semen was starting to leak from her distended holes. It was enough to make her forget that Earl's additions to her wardrobe were pulling on her breasts.

"Okay, done," she said, but Bobby shook his head.

"Write ABC at the bottom right of each."

"Why? What's it mean?"

'Ass, boobs or blowjob, cunt,' he thought, but simply shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It's a sort of inside code that you might one day know the meaning of. Right now you're on the outside still."

"Oh," Rachel sighed. She really wished she were on the inside already, but ever so carefully made very clear 'Abc' on each, as if it was a word at the beginning of a sentence. Bobby tried not to smirk at the sight of it, knowing that everyone would take the capital as an emphasis. "Done," she said with a sigh as she finished.

Bobby eyed the work, pondering if there was anything more he could think of before the next idea he had.