They went at her over and over. My camera got it all.
Streaks of mascara running from under the blindfold. Bruises they left on her tits. Smeared tally marks on her back, fourteen total. And all that ejaculate.
It was all I could do not to join them, like the crude phrase scrawled under her collarbone invited me to.
The next day her husband flipped through the shots, paid me and dismissed me. Tipped well.
The following week, she’s on his arm at the gala, in a necklace that looked damn expensive.
Was I just part of their kink?
