The drug had worked well. I was too far gone to panic or fight back.
"She ready?" John asked.
"I think so. Pinch her tit."
I felt the pressure of John's fingers on my boob. It felt like he was pinching a balloon. It didn't hurt.
"All right-you want to see what you're buying?" John asked, standing up.
"What's the slut's name?" the Mexican asked.
"Melody Hart," John said.
I was in a dazed fog as they pulled me off the couch and flopped me onto the long, heavy coffee table. My blouse was pushed up until it bunched under my arms. The bra was stretched and pulled until my boobs fell out and spread across my ribs. The band snapped back. I felt the round jugs jerk.
They rose in steep cones from the pressure.
One of them tweaked my tiny, pink nipples. Hands probed the fatty part of my tits.