Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: The Cryptkeeper
Title: The Abducted Co-ed
Summary: Young college student abducted, drugged, and raped by an older,

   butch lesbian.  Keywords: caution, rape, drugs, viol, nc, 1st, interr,
BF, WF, FF, oral, pett,
WARNING: This is sexually explicit material.  If you do not wish to read

   this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE
NOW!!!!Please do not read this work if subjects containing rape offend you.
This work is copyrighted to the author (C) 2013.  Please don't remove the
author information or make any changes to this story.  You may post freely
to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.



   Reggie and Shaquanda had broken in to the foreclosed house and set
everything up: a few pieces of furniture here and there, a couple of
decorations to make the place look lived in.  The ad on Craig's List
generated a lot of interest.  Unfortunately, the girls that showed up to
rent a room were not what Reggie and Shaquanda were looking for.  Shaquanda
escorts the heavy-set woman in her mid-thirties to the front door.  "I
already told another young lady she could have the room, but if things fall
through, I'll give you a call," Shaquanda politely informs the woman.

   Depressed that their little plan didn't yield better results, and ready
to call it a day, Shaquanda pulls the cell phone from her pocket and begins
dialing her partner when a knock at the door interrupts her.

   A gorgeous girl introduces herself to Shaquanda, "Hi, my name's Lisa.  I
called about the room."

   For a second, Shaquanda stands speechless.  The girl's beauty is
breathtaking.  Shaquanda never anticipated someone this stunning - and
white, nonetheless - would respond.  Shaquanda always had a thing for white
girls ever since she could remember.

   A runner's body dressed in loosely fitting designer jeans, a green sweat
shirt and sneakers, the girl named Lisa appears young - in her late teens
or very early twenties.  She tucks a wisp of soft, blond hair that falls
past her left cheek back behind her ear.  Her limpid blue eyes draw
Shaquanda's gaze right into them until the gentle, feminine curves of her
petite figure finally break their monopoly on Shaquanda's sight.

   Too young and naïve to realize the strange look from Shaquanda is a
leer, Lisa extends her hand to the older black woman.

   Shaquanda takes Lisa's hand and the two shake, making physical contact
for the first time.  Shaquanda notes the feel of Lisa's smooth, soft skin,
and a warm youthful energy emanating from the girl's grasp, which fan
flames of depravity burning in the older woman.

   "I'm Shaquanda." She hesitates a moment before releasing Lisa's hand,
but finally lets go.

   "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here," Lisa explains with a slight
southern drawl.  "I'm not from this area and I've never been to this part
of town before.  It's getting dark so early now and I had trouble finding
this place."

   Lisa doesn't realize this is a part of town she doesn't belong.

   "That's okay, dear.  I've had a lot of interest in the place.  Take a
look around and see what you think," Shaquanda replies, gesturing for Lisa
to come in.

   Shaquanda appears to Lisa not to care much about looks, wearing men's
khakis with a plaid, button shirt and brown boots.  Shaquanda could use
some makeup as well.

   Let me show you around," Shaquanda says enthusiastically.

   They go from room to room, Lisa silently observing how sparsely
furnished the place appears, Shaquanda pumping the girl for information as
they tour the house together.

   "So where are you from?" Shaquanda asks.

   "I'm from Castleberry, Alabama.  It's a very small town you probably
never heard of."

   "You're right, I've never heard of it.  What brings you here to the big
city?"

   "I go to UIC and live in the dorms now.  But since I'm between
semesters, I'm looking for a place to move."

   "You don't like the accommodations on campus I take it?"

   "I guess they're okay," Lisa replies.  "My dorm mates party a little too
much for me though.  Does anyone else live here with you?"

   "Nope, just me; so you won't have to worry about partying.  Don't you
have any friends or family in the area you can stay with?"

   "I haven't made many friends yet keeping so busy in school, and I don't
have any family around here.  My nearest relative lives over 800 miles
away.

   Lisa's answers makes Shaquanda wet with anticipation.  This one is
perfect and prospects are looking up.  Yes, this young fille will do fine.

   "Are there any churches nearby?"

   Lisa's question stumps Shaquanda for a second.  Churches?  Shaquanda
wouldn't set foot in a house of worship if her life depended on it.  She
has no idea where the nearest Church is.

   Thinking fast, Shaquanda claps her hands together and turns her gaze
towards the heavens.  "Oh, thank you, Jesus!  I was praying for a good,
strong, Christian roommate.  We must have four or five Churches within a
two-mile radius.  I'll show you where they all are when you move in and we
can go together," Shaquanda deceitfully answers.

   As Lisa walks into the kitchen, Shaquanda texts Reggie their prearranged
signal.  Reggie observed Lisa arrive from outside and knows she is alone.

   The price is definitely right, perhaps even suspiciously low, and the
place seems adequate.  But she is uncertain of the location.  Lisa turns
back to Shaquanda as Shaquanda sends her text message to Reggie.

   "Is this neighborhood safe?" Lisa asks.

   Shaquanda looks up from her phone and smiles at Lisa, revealing a piano
key arrangement of white and gold teeth.

   "Goodness yes, child.  You'll have nothing to worry about around here.
I've lived in this neighborhood my entire life without a single problem. 
It's the other side of Osborn Avenue where things get a little rough,"
Shaquanda assures her.

   Something about Shaquanda unsettles Lisa.  The black woman's large,
muscular frame, short nappy hair, and strong facial features make Shaquanda
look unattractively manly to Lisa.  Lisa innocently fails to recognize that
Shaquanda is butch and is hot for her, like a shark with a taste of blood.

   "Let me think about it and I'll get back in touch with you," Lisa
replies, deciding to pass on the room for now.

   The front door opens as Lisa reaches for its knob to leave.  A huge
black man with the body of a linebacker blocks her exit.  She backs away as
the man enters.

   Reggie shuts and locks the door behind him.

   "Excuse me," Lisa politely remarks looking for a way around the big man.

   Without warning, Reggie tackles Lisa to the floor knocking the wind from
her.

   "No, don't," Lisa tries to shout but gasps.  Out of breath, shocked, and
buried beneath 250 pounds of solid, dark muscle, Lisa feels like she is
drowning, and ignores something constricting around her arm as she
struggles with the more pressing issue of freeing herself from the huge
black man on top of her.

   Lisa's kicks and thrashes have no effect on Reggie.  He grabs her chin
and turns her head, pressing her right cheek into the carpet.  Lisa feels a
pull on her left arm and a pinch in the crux of her elbow.  She can't turn
to see what it is.

   Shaquanda injects a large dose of Rohypnol mixed with heroin into Lisa's
veins.

   Calm suddenly washes away Lisa's panic and she melts into her
surroundings as opiates and Rohyponol rush to her brain.

   "No, let me go," Lisa mumbles beneath Reggie, the movement in her arms
and legs slowing and seeming to lose purpose.

   **************

   On the other side of Osborn Avenue, deep in the seediest part of town,
Shaquanda and Reggie support Lisa's limp body between them.  With her arms
on each of their shoulders, they guide the very stoned girl a short
distance across the dark parking lot from their van into a rundown tenement
Reggie owns, abandoned for years and now used by prostitutes and
crackheads.

   "Wheeeere are yoooou taking meeeee?" Lisa slurs.  Her skin color is rare
around here, but the scene is not uncommon; she looks like another junkie
who's had too much dope and needs a place to sleep it off.  But upon closer
examination, this beauty lacks a druggie's usual haggard appearance.  A new
girl recently started on candy, now being taught by her two companions how
to prostitute perhaps.

   Reggie and Shaquanda ignore Lisa's delirious questions.  "Do you need
any more help with her tonight?" Reggie asks Shaquanda.

   "No, I think I can handle her for now.  I've got big plans for this
one," Shaquanda chuckles.

   "Okay, I'll get back with you tomorrow.  I want to hear all the juicy
details.  Don't forget, the next one is mine," Reggie answers leaving the
two alone in the empty building.

   A dirty mattress with old stains from various body fluids rests on the
floor in the center of an otherwise furnitureless room.  The mattress
smells of cigarettes and a hint of urine.  Lisa lies supinely on it as
Shaquanda undresses her.  Several lit candles siting nearby on the floor
provide the only flickers of light and cast macabre shadows on the walls.
With each breath she takes, a heavy must fills Lisa's lungs.

   Shaquanda jerks and rips most of Lisa's clothes off and throws them
about the room.

   "What are you doing?  Don't," Lisa sluggishly protests.

   Shaquanda straddles Lisa's thin waist.  Lisa's shiny silk bra - a cream
colored fabric with a flashy mix of red, green, blue and orange polka dots
- catches Shaquanda's attention like a fish to a lure.  Lisa's shapely
breasts fill the soft material like wind in the sails of a ship.

   Shaquanda reaches up and cups Lisa's firm tits.  Her fingers begin
tracing outlines of Lisa's nipples through the taffeta.

   "Nooooo," Lisa moans.

   Shaquanda begins unfastening the bra; but Lisa's hands get in her way.

   "Stop it!" Shaquanda impatiently growls grabbing Lisa's wrists and
pinning them past Lisa's head to the mattress.  Shaquanda holds them there
a few moments.

   The date rape drug has its way with her and Lisa settles down again,
ceasing to squirm long enough for Shaquanda to release her wrists and
finish unclasping the front of her bra.  "You won't need this anytime
soon," Shaquanda remarks throwing the garment somewhere past their tiny
island of candle light into the surrounding darkness.  Shaquanda's hands
start from Lisa's belly button and slide all the way up her smooth, tight
skin to her perky tits.  They knead the perfectly formed globes of
porcelain white flesh that are capped by small, pink aerolae and nipples
that pucker as the chill night air grazes them.  Shaquanda's fingers fasten
around the buds gently tweaking them to full attention.

   "I think I'll suck on these a while," Shaquanda comments.

   Lisa feels Shaquanda's full weight press her into the mattress as the
thick bull dyke lays on top of her.

   Shaquanda grips Lisa's breast and begins sucking her nipple.

   "No, get off," Lisa groans.  She tries shoving Shaquanda's mouth from
her tit with no avail.  Her hands push Shaquanda at random attempting to
get her away.  Her legs helplessly flounder about having no more effect
moving Shaquanda's massive body than her hands.

   Shaquanda squeezes Lisa's breasts, sucks and nibbles her taut nipples
flicks the stiff, wet flesh with her tongue.

   "Oh, these are so beautiful," Shaquanda mutters, loudly smacking her
lips and drawing on Lisa's nipples like a nursing baby.

   Lisa's squirming subsides.  She succumbs to the date rape compound and
inures to her assault.

   Shaquanda finally tears herself from the gorgeous tits and rises from
Lisa.  "Those were really nice appetizers," she remarks, leaving Lisa's wet
nipples sharply poking into the cold night air.  "But, now it's time for
the main course."

   Shaquanda's eyes wander down Lisa's toned abdomen and linger on her
shallow bellybutton shaped like a keyhole.  Her hand follows the muscular
contours of Lisa's stomach like a carpenter's finishing a fine piece of
woodwork.  Shaquanda wiggles her thumb into Lisa's naval.

   "No, stop," Lisa complains from the tickle to her umbilicus.

   While Shaquanda thumbs Lisa's bellybutton her eyes move on to pinker
pastures.

   "Look at these cute, little panties," Shaquanda remarks about the dainty
bikini briefs that match Lisa's bra.  Shaquanda's fingers slide into their
elastic.

   "No," Lisa moans, grabbing the garment so Shaquanda can't remove it from
her.

   Shaquanda pries Lisa's fingers from the waistband and inches the fabric
down.  She suspects Lisa is completely shaved down there when a wisp of
brown, shortly trimmed pubic hairs finally appears.

   Lisa's hands regain their grasp on the undergarment and attempt pulling
it back in a tug of war with Shaquanda.

   "Let it go!" Shaquanda snarls, roughly peeling Lisa's fingers from the
panties.  With Lisa too inebriated to sit up, Shaquanda jerks the
undergarment past its previous low mark, just beyond Lisa's reach, and
stops to watch Lisa's fingers clutch emptiness.  She stares at Lisa's
small, golden brown bush and how meticulously tidy it appears - a narrow,
almost non-existent line of shortly trimmed hair beginning above her slit
no more than an inch long with clean, neatly defined borders.  Shaquanda
begins inching Lisa's panties further from her grasp as if taunting the
drugged girl whose fingers continue blindly searching for them.  "You won't
need these for a while either," Shaquanda exclaims, finally sliding the
satiny undergarment the rest of the way down.

   "Please, no," Lisa somnolently mutters as Shaquanda pulls the soft silk
fabric from Lisa's foot like she is unwrapping a present.

   "What do you mean, `No'?  We haven't even got started yet, baby.  You're
in for a real treat tonight."

   Shaquanda takes the panties she just removed and inhales Lisa's female
scent from them.  "Mmmm...  you smell delicious.  I'm keeping these as a
little reminder of our first time together."

   Shaquanda places Lisa's panties beside their mattress where she won't
forget them and reaches between Lisa's thighs.

   Lisa hears a faraway voice repeating to open her legs.

   "Open your legs," Shaquanda barks again, while slowly forcing them to
part.

   Lisa wants to sleep and doesn't care about much else.  She relaxes and
Shaquanda spreads her wide.

   "Oh my," Shaquanda exclaims, seating herself between Lisa's splayed legs
and getting a good look at the girl's genitals: petite, young pussy -
probably a boyfriend or two and maybe intercourse a few times, but sexual
preferences yet to be formed.  The kind of pussy Shaquanda takes delight
cultivating homosexually and spoiling for future men.  Lisa must have
recently waxed or shaved, not a trace of hair or stubble anywhere outside
the tiny strip on her mound.  "What a gorgeous cunt you have."

   Shaquanda briefly grazes the smooth labia of Lisa's pussy, supple and
tender like an earlobe, and giving off inviting heat.  Desire to touch it,
to physically control the beautiful girl, consumes Shaquanda.  She barely
gets to sample the young pussy before Lisa's hands interfere.  Lisa's legs
squeeze Shaquanda's body between them in their unsuccessful attempt to
close.

   Shaquanda grabs Lisa's hands and forces them to the side.  "Let me touch
it!" she snaps, attempting a second time to caress Lisa's pussy.

   "Noooo." But for Lisa reality and time are severely distorted.  In what
seems like a second, 10 minutes pass.

   "Oh, yea, your cunt feels so nice.  I love playing with it," Shaquanda
coos, running her fingers though Lisa's warm, silky pussy lips for those 10
minutes that were a second to Lisa.  Lisa's hands return to block her.  But
it's far too late to stop Shaquanda; like an addict a few days without a
fix finally about to take that first hit of crack again, she already tastes
Lisa's sex and craves more.  Shaquanda grabs Lisa's wrists, violently
shoving them back.

   "Let me touch it!" Shaquanda growls, this time slapping each hand hard
when it attempts moving.  Shaquanda spits generously on her thumb and
begins gently tracing around Lisa's clitoris with it.

   A sensation between her legs grabs Lisa's attention, but her hands still
sting from Shaquanda's strikes.  She briefly grasps that she is being
touched inappropriately but the realization almost as quickly escapes her.
A familiar voice keeps telling her not to interfere.

   "Let me touch it."

   Lisa's pussy has become wet.  Shaquanda's thumb dips in it often for
lubrication and then resumes the same pattern along the edges of Lisa's
clit.  The thumb's path on Lisa's intimate flesh eventually becomes
predictable, familiar, a tenuous boundary of sorts to her, offering a false
sense of safety to the irrational mind of a victim drugged with Rohyponol
and heroin.  And then Shaquanda takes things to their next level. 
Shaquanda's thumb deviates from the comfortable pattern, landing directly
on Lisa's clit and delicately messaging it, the sensation abruptly more
intense.  Lisa isn't used to it.  "Let me touch it," Shaquanda slowly warns
in a deeper tone that sounds more like she is speaking to a dog, telling it
to stay.  She observes Lisa's hands hesitantly begin to return.  "Let me
touch it," she repeats, catching Lisa's hands with her free one and firmly
putting each back in place where it won't get in her way.

   Lisa slowly acclimates; her distress over this sharper, more arousing
technique Shaquanda uses on her lessens.  Lisa's hands move towards her sex
again, but anticipating another vicious slap, stall at her inner thighs
where they remain.



   "That's a good girl.  Just let me touch it for a little while and I'll
stop.  I'm not hurting you," Shaquanda lilts, continuing to tenderly
manipulate Lisa's clitoris.  The soothing stimulation as Shaquanda
masturbates her beginning to pacify Lisa.

   "No, please, don't," Lisa moans.

   But Lisa's protests become more meaningless the longer Shaquanda fondles
her.  Lisa's clit has begun to enlarge, responding to direct contact. 
Shaquanda spreads Lisa's labia, observing her beautiful, pink folds, and
slips her index finger into Lisa's small pussy.

   "Oooooh, you're so wet for me, baby," Shaquanda coos, locating the
girl's G-spot, simultaneously rubbing it and Lisa's clitoris.  "I'm going
to make you cum for me.  Have you ever cum for a woman before?" Shaquanda
asks enthusiastically, as if speaking to a small child.  She peers into
Lisa's bleary eyes, with tiny dots for pupils due to the Rohyponol and
heroin, their clear blue now somewhat obscured in shadows cast by the
flickering candles.

   Lisa stares back at Shaquanda with heavy eyelids and a blank expression
while masturbated by her.  Then suddenly a reaction: "Oh, naaah," Lisa
nonsensically exclaims, propping herself up on her elbows.  She turns her
head away in shame, brings her legs closer together, and arches her back,
then tries unsuccessfully to expel Shaquanda's fingers with her vaginal
muscles.  Lisa looks down at her pussy as Shaquanda plays with it.

   "That's right; I'm still in your pussy finger fucking you.  You didn't
think that little trick would really work, did you?  Look at how nice and
hard your clit is getting for me - how wet you are.  Do you see how
beautiful your pussy is?"

   The image isn't pretty to Lisa, it's an ugly, vulgar perversion.  But
she dumbly watches Shaquanda's thumb deftly twiddle her clitoris, the
horrific picture not fully registering at first.  Normally no larger than a
small pea, Lisa's clitoris is distended to double its usual size.  She has
never seen it aroused and big like this before.  It glistens with slippery
secretions from her pussy lubricating it.  Shaquanda takes the pink nub
between her split fingers and begins gliding them up and down along the
sides of its shaft, giving it incredible waves of pleasure that travel
Lisa's spine and throughout her body.  Lisa's nipples pucker.  Then for an
instant, Lisa comprehends what's happening and her emotionless face
suddenly distorts in disgust as she looks up at Shaquanda with wide eyes
and her mouth hanging ajar unable to find words to utter.  Interrupted,
Shaquanda surrenders Lisa's clit and palms her shapely breast, its rock
hard nipple, and nudges her to lie back down.  "Shush, it's okay.  Let me
touch it a little bit," Shaquanda repeats keeping two fingers securely in
Lisa's sex.

   With the Rohyponol Lisa's memory lasts as long as a lonely spark that
goes dim before reaching the ground after snapping from a fire log.  Lisa's
eyelids begin closing.  Confused, she docilely obeys Shaquanda and lies
back in the mattress.  Shaquanda releases Lisa's firm tit and pets her
silky, blond hair to calm her.  Wet, gushy sounds from Lisa's pussy
continue filling the room.  "Don't worry.  You're going to be alright.  I
won't hurt you.  Don't fight this anymore.  Let me touch it.  I'm going to
make it feel real good."

   Lisa relaxes for Shaquanda.  Shaquanda returns her full attention back
to Lisa's pussy, takes Lisa's clitoral shaft between her fingers again in
the same way people often hold a cigarette, and slides them up and down
along its sides with the grace of an accomplished violinist gliding a bow
across strings to produce long, harmonious notes - a conduit of pleasure
for the girl.  Lisa's eyes look distant and dreamy.  She bites her fist,
turns her head to the side, and arches her back.  Having never tried
Rohyponol or heroin herself, Shaquanda is intrigued by the way the
combination works.  What triggered Lisa to stir like that earlier - a flash
of lucidity and then a return to obliviousness?  Like an ember rekindling
as its running out of fuel.  With her southern accent Lisa asked about
churches when they met - a conservative Christian no doubt.  The type that
abhors homosexuality and isn't too keen on interracial relationships
either. Yet this cute, little thing is getting both.  Did that go through
Lisa's mind?  Did she realize for a second that a black lesbian was in her
pussy and was going to make her cum?  Shaquanda coaxes Lisa to open her
legs more in triumphant response to the thought.



   Lisa's clitoris and labia have become full and darker - like a flower
blooming.  Her pelvis begins sporadic and gentle coital motions.

   "Ah, oh, God," Lisa gasps.

   "Oooooh, uh-huh, does this feel good?" Shaquanda asks, before going down
on her.

   "Oh," Lisa sighs.

   Shaquanda pulls Lisa's delicate labia to the sides to eat out her pussy.
As she approaches, her nostrils take in the lavender scent of soap Lisa
recently bathed with.  Heat radiating from Lisa's pussy touches her face.
Shaquanda's mouth joins Lisa's cunt.  She lightly sucks and licks Lisa's
stiff clitoris, delves her tongue into Lisa's wet slit and slurps down
Lisa's sweet juices of love.  No two girls ever taste the same to
Shaquanda, presently savoring every drop of Lisa's wonderfully unique
flavor.

   "Oh, oh, oh, nah, please," Lisa moans, her fingers clenching the
mattress.

   But time proves Shaquanda's ally.  She no longer works to keep Lisa's
legs open.  Her hands now leisurely glide to and fro along Lisa's widely
spread inner thighs which stay agape.  Shaquanda's lips loudly smack,
filling the empty room with soggy sounds as she continues performing oral
sex on the innocent, young girl growing ever more complacent.

   Shaquanda softly plays with Lisa's hard, wet clit, doubled in size an
easy target to access.

   Lisa's breathing becomes rapid, her muscles tense.

   With her young, white victim's pussy wide open, Shaquanda notes the
changes in it: swollen inner lips that have gone from light pink to almost
red, and that beautiful little clit now timidly hidden beneath an engorged
hood.  Although no longer directly accessible, Shaquanda continues to
softly rub its protective covering.  She slips her fingers back inside
Lisa's soaked pussy, resumes indulging her G-spot.

   "I can tell you're getting close.  I need you to cum real hard for me,
baby," Shaquanda encourages.

   "Oh, please, don't make me do that," Lisa groggily pleads, her pelvis
subtly gyrating for Shaquanda.

   "I'll stop soon, baby.  I'm just going to play with it a little longer
until you cum for me," Shaquanda replies.  "I need you to cum."

   Lisa hears a distant voice that keeps telling her to cum.

   "Cum for me, baby," Shaquanda repeats.

   Stroking Lisa's clitoral hood, messaging her G-spot, Shaquanda feels
Lisa's pussy rhythmically clench her finger.

   "Oh, God, no, oh, oh, oh," Lisa squeals in a violent orgasm.

   Warm, silky fluid gushes from Lisa's pussy, coating Shaquanda's fingers
and making a new stain on the filthy mattress.

   "Oh, you're doing it.  That's it, baby.  That's a good girl - keep
cumming for me," Shaquanda goads, maintaining the girl's climax.  "Oh, I
love you so much.  I love making you cum."

   Shaquanda is wicked and twisted, referring to her depravity as love.

   A LARGER WET SPOT forms beneath Lisa from multiple orgasms.  Shaquanda
has lost count how many times she has made the girl cum.  Another climax
finally subsides, but Shaquanda fails anon to keep her promise and does not
stop masturbating Lisa.

   "Okay...  I came again," Lisa whispers between breaths.  "Please, oh,
stop."

   Shaquanda is infatuated with Lisa.  Lisa's clitoris has come out from
beneath its hood and is too tempting.  Shaquanda cannot resist touching it.
"Your clitty wants me to play with it some more," Shaquanda comments,
circling it with her well lubricated thumb.

   Lisa's hands try to stop Shaquanda.

   "Let me touch it a little longer," Shaquanda coos, then harshly slaps
Lisa's hands out of her way.  She resumes gently stroking Lisa's clitoris
as it re-hardens.  "It's so pretty."

   "Oh, God - please, no more," Lisa languidly gasps.

   "Just cum for me one more time."

   "Oh, oh, please, no.  I can't." But Lisa's pelvis involuntarily
undulates.

   "Shush," Shaquanda sighs, putting her finger to Lisa's lips while
continuing to masturbate her.  "You stop that complaining and let me play
with it some more.  I'm not hurting it.  Doesn't this feel nice?"



   *******************************

   The setting sun's rays pour through a broken window along with a cold
draft, tattered remnants of an old curtain helplessly flailing in the
breeze.  Lisa wakes naked in an empty, dilapidated flat with what feels
like a terrible hangover, her clothes strewn all about the room.  She is
freezing and can't think clearly.  She has slept almost 24 hours on a
disgusting mattress.  She doesn't know how long she has been here, what day
or time it is.  She feels exhausted like she hasn't slept in days.  She
dresses without finding her panties.

   Lisa stumbles from the abandoned tenement disheveled and unable to
remember how she got here, the din of inner city traffic filling her ears.
She is nauseous and disoriented.  She recalls fragments of horrible,
disgusting nightmares - unlike any she has ever had before - perverted,
unchristian acts that make her feel dirty, like vomiting at their thought.
Where would she even get such evil ideas if not from Lucifer planting them
in her mind?

   "Lord, Jesus, please help me.  Make this awful feeling, these sinful
thoughts go away," Lisa prays in confusion, trying to figure out where she
is and how to get back to her dorm.



   The End

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