Jim is far from finished with Tara.

Tara was just about to slip her second foot into the panties and yank them up when someone approached her and put their foot on the crotch of the panties, pinning them to the sidewalk. A hand made a fist in her hair and she was pulled into an upright standing position. "Ah! What the fuck!"

It was Jim. Hunky, despicable, beautiful, Jim.

"What are you doing, girl?" he demanded. "Did I say you could get dressed? I don't remember telling you you could get dressed." His tone was sharp and authoritative, and it stirred something inside Tara.

Still, he had no real right to command her or **** her. Not outside. "You don't own me, Jim. I can get dressed if I... Why are you smiling?" A sudden sense of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. He still had the notebook.

"Oh, Tara. Stupid, backwards Tara. I do own you." He stepped around her a little so that the audience could see her better, but didn't release his firm grip on her dark hair so she couldn't turn away from the crowd. Jim leaned down and whispered into her ear. "See, because you know about the notebook, you know what I could do to you. To anyone, really, but I would especially do it to you. Drop your arms. Let them see you."

Tara had lifted her hands to cover her nakedness, but at his command she lowered them slowly. With that notebook, he could make her a drooling, sex-addicted idiot and she didn't want to give him a reason to do it. "You bastard," she breathed, and he laughed.

"That's right, my little Indian beauty. I like you like this." He ran a finger down her spine, giving her pert ass a little slap as his hand went lower. "You know, I knew you were a bit of a freak even before all this, but after seeing what you wrote in that notebook, I know what you're really into, and I have to say... it suits you. **** little brown whore, hungry for white cock. I'm pretty sure you're the reason I've had such a fetish for your kind, too. So really, you did this to yourself, and you took every other Indian woman with you into this game."

Tara swallowed, battling the arousal that grew within her as more people stopped by to gape at the Indian sluts being shown their place. Sandra was standing near the door to the cafe with her legs spread and her arms down. She was fidgeting slightly as though unbearably horny. It was true. She'd wanted exactly this. Mostly for herself, but she had made her rules broad so she could safely hide in them. She felt deep shame but it only fueled her arousal more.

"Stay." Jim said, as if commanding a dog, and released her hair.

Tara could just stand there, pinned down my so many eyes on her. She didn't have anywhere to go, anyway. There was no way she was going to run away down the street naked, and several more white men had entered the cafe by now. There was no safety there, just the promise of what would certainly be an unforgettable experience at the hands of, what six guys? She shuddered.

"Good girl." Jim pulled out his notebook and turned to a fresh page, where he started a new category: Tara Patel, CSU Student
He was very curious if he could isolate his rules to affect just her and no one else. He was fairly sure it would work, but ever the scientist, he would prove it.

New Rule: Tara's hair is long enough to reach her hips and is naturally shiny and healthy.

Immediately, Tara's hair stretched down her bare back to the desired length, and takes on a beautiful, lustrous sheen.

Tara felt the change touch her, and knew immediately that that notebook gave Jim total power over her. She needed to get it away from him before she could even consider crossing him. He did own her. Why did that turn her on so much?

Jim ran his fingers through her perfect hair, even lifting it to his face to take a curious sniff. "Beautiful." He gripped it near the back of her neck and pulled her gently but firmly back towards him so he could speak into her ear again. "Now I need to run a little errand, but I want you to stay _right here _until I get back. Don't worry, I don't think anyone will **** you as long as you stay outside." He lifted his head and turned to include Sandra. "That goes for both of you."

Sandra turned her head to look at him, but didn't say anything.

Jim continued, but Tara suspected he was largely speaking to the crowd now. Some of them seemed almost appalled at what they were seeing. "The two of you are my girlfriends. Stay here, and I'll come back for you. Let's make sure everyone knows that brown sluts like you are free game for white men inside these walls." He gave Tara another slap on the ass and she yelped. The crowd chuckled, now at ease with what was happening.

Apparently, her own rule about socially-acceptable raceplay needed them to understand they were in a relationship. Now in their eyes they were just a few happy kinksters engaging in some harmless public humiliation... which was seen as perfectly okay because Jim was white and the girls were brown. Tara had turned her darkest secret loose on the whole world... she couldn't believe how deliciously erotic the same of it felt.

She knew it was just a game, that it wasn't "real," but standing there in full view of everyone, right in front of the building where girls like her became sex toys for white men... it felt very real. She relished the surge of arousal she felt as she imagined all the racist and degrading things being thought about her in that moment. Part of her wanted more, wanted something actually real. Wanted the whole world to see her the way she felt in that moment. Degenerate, weak, inferior. If she had the notebook in her hands in that moment, she might not even use it to rescue herself. Part of her even wanted to dig herself in deeper.

She heard some comments from the crowd as Jim moved through the people. One of them even gave him a high five. "Good shit, man. Where can I get myself some Indian sluts like these?" and "I'm going to have lunch here every fucking day!" and "Of course! Everyone knows Indian girls are horny as shit. They go crazy at the slightest touch. Fuckin' sluts, all of 'em!"

Tara and Sandra were left alone to stand on either side of the door to the cafe. Just a couple of brown girls to be appreciated by any and all who happened by. It's not like they had anything useful to be doing. They shared a quick glance. Sandra seemed to be saying, "How did we get so lucky? Are you as turned on as I am?" If only Sandra knew the truth. God, have mercy, Tara loved it.