Bosom friends by the diner

You lean back against the brick wall of the diner. The back alley is behind you, and the front entrance is in plain view. The diner is bright in chilly night, a beacon in the dark.

The cool silk of your blouse seems unnatural over your nipples, as does the texture of your green plaid skirt over your bare hips. It feels odd to be out of your captor's apartment. It feels odd to wear clothes.

He's somewhere near, parked in a pick-up truck.

You lock your hands in front of you, pushing your breasts together, thrusting them out. You hope he's looking, checking you out. You hope he wants to use his knocked up cum ****, to fuck you in every hole, to keep you chained and enslaved.

You fancy him taking you behind the diner, hiking up your skirt, fucking your ass raw.

But first you need to do a little thing for him.

You hear heels on pavement.

"Michelle!" your voice rings out. It's too dark to see her clothes, but it's her.

"Emily!" she calls and looks around. You wave. She turns away from the bright door of the diner and runs to join you in the night.

You hold out your arms. She hugs you and you embrace her tight, bosom to bosom, locking her arms to her body.

Your captor is quick. He moves in from behind, taping your best friend's mouth shut, taping her struggling wrists, taping her ankles. She looks at you like a helpless doe, confused, pleading. A shiver runs through you.

He tosses her lithe form in the back of the pickup. You walk with him to the cab, meekly unbuttoning your blouse.