An agonizing wait.

She squirms. God fucking dammit she can't believe this is happening to her. Her heart is hammering in her chest, every hair on her body standing at attention, catching every little shift in the wind. Of course, she'd showered and groomed herself in anticipation of the long plane ride, so she didn't even have the luxury of hair to cover her pussy.

Luckily - if you could call anything about this situation lucky - she was in the international departures pickup zone, which wasn't as highly trafficked as domestic. There were still people, of course, and the occasional car, but the overall effect to Mackenzie was an eerie one. It was mostly quiet, and she felt jumpy. Who would come upon her? What would happen when the police arrived?

People walked by her, but all they did was gawk. Some looked at her with disgust, muttering hurtful words under their breath. Some leered, lingering to take in the detail or snap a picture. Some just pretended not to see her at all. No doubt they'd seen her streak through the airport and saw this as her comeuppance, because nobody helped her. Not that she could even ask for it, with the piece of duct tape over her mouth. All she could do was meet their gaze for a moment, then, overcome with shame and embarrassment, she would have to look away. It was a full-body feeling.

The total loss of control was new to her. She was, essentially, completely cut off from everything she owned, including her identification, money - fuck, even her shoes and socks had come off in the confusion. She was nobody. She was just a naked girl. A naked girl with her mouth taped shut and her hands trapped behind her back. In public, with nothing.