On Monday Trudy said she had to go out for awhile. About two hours later she returned with her “leash” as it would turn out to be called. It was a black Motorola beeper. I asked her why she needed a beeper. She replied, “I told you Saturday night.”
This moment made it all to real. Trudy wasn’t making up these stories or events. Everything that she told me, as unbelievable as they might sound were actually happening.
Trudy was now a willing sex slave to a black master, or gang, or whatever. I didn’t know for sure. Everything else from what I could tell in our lives was normal. She didn’t seem affected by her new status as a sex slave, and in fact seemed a little more “into” me than usual.
I guess that was the reason that I didn’t say anything. That and the fact that I was curious to see what route her adventures would take.