The immediate vision of Scarlette was striking and disturbing enough - the poor light in that basement room was bad enough, and yet there was still enough of it from several single bulbs to glitter and shimmy off the pink latex. Because it was pink latex it seemed to glow in the dark, or in the semi dark. Scarlette looked disturbed and unsettled herself - constantly shifting her weight from one high heel to the next. Sometimes jutting out one partly pink hip, and then sometimes the other one. Sometimes standing with legs splayed but straight. Other times she was like a little girl - a frightened little girl who had been thrown into something that she didn't understand. Her latex sheathed knees would be touching and her lower legs splayed out, toes pointing in to each other. She looked like a troubled teen. She was a troubled teen. She barely noticed the set of eyes on her and on her alone. That was Tisha. Her new special friend except it wasn't what it appeared to be. The special friend arrangement was on the side of Tisha only. Scarlette didn't notice the almost snarling looks from the muscle bound Heidi either. They weren't a constant - like a one only stare that didn't break off for air. Rather it was just occasionally, when Scarlette's heels scraped the stone floor, or they clicked in the silence of the room. Or when she moved in such a way the latex creaked and groaned and gave off a wave of its own aroma. But that aroma always drenched in Scarlette's sexuality. That was enough for Heidi to almost growl at her former Slayer friend and she did. It was like a throaty growl and then a snarl of the lips. The look from the eye was one of disdain and contempt. It was clear to see that there was no love lost there any more. That in itself a drastic turn of events.

The scene was bizarre and the closer one looked the more bizarre it was - or the more bizarre it became. The latex of Scarlette drew in the eyes but once those eyes were fixed in there, there was the sex lips hanging between her legs - and it became more obvious, or it became clearer why Scarlette was in like a constant state of motion - a constant state of moving from one stiletto to the other. In her movements she was creating that friction between her legs - she was creating that rub between her legs and that rub of her sex lips. And as she did that, or the more that she did that she could also manipulate the pressure on her clitoris. She was moving because she was pleasuring herself without making it obvious. Her way of keeping it together - her way of being discreet whilst she still could.

And if one were to look even closer, there would be the drips from her sex lips. Where her juices had run out of her latex contained sexuality and then found their own level by following gravity to her lips and down out of the latex to those lips. Those drips collecting at the lowest point of her sex lips and then just building there and building until each drip got so heavy it couldn't hold on any more. Then plopping to the floor. Those pools of sex juice, Scarlette's sex juices just collecting and spreading on the floor. Collecting and spreading to such a point that she was eventually simply walking and treading in her own juices. Even closer looks then at the hugeness of her nipples as they seemed to sprout from her latex top. The pinkness of the latex, all shiny and smooth and then the dark, disturbing grape like shapes of over blown nipples. Like they had been erected and then erected some more. The constrictions of the holes around the base encouraging such an obscene sight and then maintaining it also. The wonderment of the view, that shiny latex, all sexy and pink then slowly turning to some kind of pity for Scarlette as one wondered what must have been going on inside her head - and inside her body. A look at her face and it was troubled. Still stunningly attractive and yet drawn in the features and slightly downcast. And the eyes - the eyes constantly searching and darting side to side. Then there was the movement of her mouth. No sounds coming out, except occasionally for the gasps as her clitoris reach the peak of a throb - or when she found a particularly sensitive spot in her labia as she created that rub. Her eyes though told of a conversation going on in her head more or less all of the time. Of course, in the normal world there could be no such conversation, unless she was mad. If anyone saw Scarlette, they might come to the conclusion that she was indeed mad, to one degree or another. But this was Scarlette's world now.

The bench was a single occupancy bench now. It had been Heidi, Tisha and Xaviar seated there in their invisible bondage. They had had front row seats to watch Scarlette being taken apart. All hunched over like condemned slayers about to be slain. Now it was just Xaviar. One got the feeling that he had been left until the last deliberately because he was the one who was in the much more mental turmoil. It was as though this invisible thing, this bitch entity or whatever it was had taken it on itself or herself to make the process as bad as she possibly could for the one and only male of the group.