“could you please tell her to make me come?”

        It took a while to lose them, those men who had seen Tami’s roadside doings and then kept following the black Cadillac, hoping for more.  McMasters got off an exit, then drove around some back roads, then got on the interstate, fortunately not getting lost.  “I’m hungry,” Wanda said, putting the remote control down and stretching with insolent laziness.  McMasters was hungry too.  Time to eat.  “Tami, you hungry?” he said, looking over to the squirming, dirty girl in her vibrating bikini prison.

        Tami looked out the window, her head jerking slightly.  She couldn’t deny that she was starving, though she wondered if these dildos would leave any room inside her for food.  “Y - yes.  Ohhh .  .  .”   She had a craving for a hamburger and fries.  Anything was better than sitting here with nothing to distract her from .  .  .  Wanda had been cruel.  After Tami’s first orgasm, shortly after they got back in the car, Wanda had kept the buzzing low and then turned it off and on and intervals.  Right now it was off.  The result was that Tami was suspended in a state just short of orgasm, a very uncomfortable feeling.

        Tami thought of saying, “Mr. McMasters, Wanda has been keeping me frustrated.  Can you tell her to make me come four more times so we can end this session?”  Bizarre.  But if they were going to be in the car away from watching eyes, she would much rather have the five orgasms over with so she could take these horrid things off and sit again in simple nakedness.

        “Daisy & John’s Diner”.  A safe choice, McMasters thought.  As the old Cadillac pulled up besides the pickup trucks the girls saw a couple of tractor trailers parked out back.  As if Tami were dressed perfectly normally, McMasters got out and chivalrously opened the door for her as Wanda went on ahead.

        Tami, too, tried to act normal as she walked in behind the others into what was a pretty big diner, with a long counter, the usual Formica tables, and stuffed animal heads hung on almost every available wall.  Obviously a place where hunters ate; during hunting season this place must be crammed.  Today, though, there were only a few tables occupied.

        As she followed McMasters and Wanda to a table in the back, Tami’s brave deadpan facade was shattered by the looks she got from the other diners.  She was instantly aware again of the kind of appearance she presented -- barefoot, filthy with grease and grime, and wearing a freakishly small bikini.  And if they only knew what was inside me -- !   She glanced at a teenage girl in jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, sitting at a near table and some kind of bell rang in her mind.  Then she realized it -- the girl looked a lot like Tami Smithers.  And was about her age.  And was wearing a T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, the kind of clothes that Tami herself used to wear.  What was so horrifying was the look on the girl’s face -- a look of shock and disgust.  Tami blinked back a tear, thinking of how she used to be, trying to remember how it felt to wear those clothes .  .  .