I move one hand to her throat with a firm tight grip. I lean into her. “Not a word whore if you want to live to see 17.” Commanding her silence. ... My other hands starts pushing up her shirts. Slowly I raise it. Inch by inch. Then I get a good feel of her nice firm puffy tit as I push her shirt up over them. I reach for my knife. I place it on her chest and cut the fabric of her bra right down the middle. The bra flies open. Her nice young tits give a good bounce. Putting my knife away. I keep. Along with her short fur jacket and tight orange miniskirt, she wore long orange gloves and stylish boots that were laced up to her knees. Her black hair was cut in a fashionable bob that framed her perfect features. As she posed against the lamppost Steven thought she looked more like an actress or model than a woman of the night. He wondered what she was doing here.His heart fluttered momentarily at her beauty and he stamped down on it. He had work to do. No distractions.The one weird thing. In front of one of the mirrors some sort of stainless steel pole about one inch in diameter protruded upward from the floor, about one foot high. They took me to the pole and turn me around, facing the bed. I had to lift my right foot and a large ring hanging from the inside of my ankle on the boot was slid over the pole. Mother helped to keep my balance and Marie helped me to do the same with my left foot. I now could not move my feet from the pole anymore. Then Marie took the pole and pulled. ’ My face turned red and I focused my eyes and attention on something more interesting. What was going on? Why did I feel guilty? What the fuck did I just say that was bad? Finally, the subject got changed and I was left to wallow in my own feelings. My first challenge hit me fast and hard. We were doing a water drill – our very first one in fact. A water drill is when most of the counselors go to an assigned area of the lake and search for a missing child. It is required and is pretty.