Natalie grabbed her phone, and she dialed Cameron. The call went straight to voicemail. “Hey. It’s past ten. I’m wondering where you are and if ...ou’re okay. Send me a text or call me to let me know you’re all right, okay?” She was uncertain if she should be worried for his safety or mad because of his silence. It was 10:30 and he hadn’t returned her call. Natalie weighed her options. Concern of his well-being won over the potential that Cameron might view her actions as psychotic. So, she. I don’t know exactly what else happened to me that night, and I probably never well - unless some of the photos leak online. The only memory I do have is bright flashes of light from camera phones, and I woke up with my photo Id resting between my tits. The photo ID was proudly proclaiming who I was, telling the world my address and all my details, if you could read it clearly. It, and the rest of my little tits, were covered in cum. Once my rapists had enough they left me, unconscious covered. More

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