"The men sat silent for a moment. The SAC rubbed his eyes again, sighed, and looked over at his assistant, "All right; talk to me. Let's go over it again. What do we know?" Well, nobody in the room had an ID on them. Nobody. We found a vehicle we think three of the guys and Hanes, the undercover guy, came in — we think. It's registered to somebody in Texas, but there was no one in the motel who admitted to being from Texas or that claimed the car. The prints haven't come back on anyone yet; the 'registered' owner doesn't answer his phone, and the cops there said the house appeared deserted. We matched two of the guns to two of the people in the room. But the gun we think was Hanes' doesn't have a print on it, nor does it have a single print on the magazine or any of the ammunition."They're still running ballistics on all those bullets. Some that went through a body, or missed, hit those cinder block walls the motel is built out of, and destroyed any chance of getting any riflings off. "MMMMMMRRRRRRRMRMMHHPPHPHHHH" he screamed into it, the hopelessness of his situation finally beginning to sink in. Fear seeping like molten-tar into his chest, panic tingling and thrashing in his neck. She could keep him here as long as she wanted, and he couldn't do shit about it. He could be in this excruciating position for days.. weeks... months? Forever? He couldn't imagine how this ended -- what was about to happen to him. Everything he had ever done to a semi-conscious girl flashed through his head, only with him on the receiving end. She could do it all to him. All of it and more. Suddenly he wanted nothing but to apologize. To tell her what she wanted him to say. What had it been? Something about thanking her for molesting his asshole? It didn't matter, he couldn't say a fucking thing now. Not until she decided he could speak. His cock tickled and throbbed. He wanted to believe it was just the feathers, but he knew it wasn't. His helplessness, the power she held over him was.
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