 Clarissa regained consciousness slowly. Pain accompanied every petiteteen muscle contration; even teen breathing was agony. She was petite adrift in a sea petite of teen pain. She tried to open teen her teen eyes, but was prevented from doing so by a crust of petite dry cum. She felt nasty all over. The laughter of twenty teenage petite boys still rang in petiteteen her ears. Finally, the realization that petite she had been raped and left for dead teen enraged her petite enough to lend strength to her petiteteen rubbery muscles petite. She rolled off her back onto her belly, and after resting for about ten minutes, she was able petite to pull herself forward some. She teen headed uphill, toward petite the exit. Whenever she felt her strength failing petite, she petite thought teen about how the boys had waylaid her, dragged her into the underground petiteteen parking garage, and then had used their switchblade petite knives to cut her clothing from her body petite in itty petite bitty strips. She petite wanted help. She wanted justice, but above all, she wanted revenge. Each pull brought her about a foot closer petiteteen to her goal. She was on the third pictures level below ground. Each petiteteen level was about petite a hundred yards long. One pull roughly every pictures ten minutes. Even if it took her a week, she was getting out. After three hours, Clarissa was exhausted. Even her rage failed her. She petite wouldn petite't have even known she had fallen asleep had she not petite been awakened by the sound of footsteps. She tried to cry out, but all she managed teen was a feeble squeak. In the hollow emptiness of the garage, it was apparently enough petiteteen, for after only petite a petite minute, Clarissa felt strong hands on her, lifting her to a petite sitting position. She was carefully sheathed in a petite coat and lifted from petite the concrete teen. She petiteteen managed to squeak out a "thank you petite."
 "'Bout petiteteen time you petite asked. I'm Phil. Phil Grimble." With that, Phil pulled back the pictures covers, revealing the beautiful silk gown he had dressed her in petite.
 The teen submission of evidence took little time petite. Clarissa and Phil attended the petite trial, watching from the petite gallery. All of the boys were found guilty, and sentenced to two petite consecutive life sentences. Phil had one arm around Clarissa's shoulder, and occasionally he petiteteen would run his petiteteen fingers petite over the "scrunchie," as Clarissa called it, that held her hair up in a waterfall ponytail. Clarissa didn't notice. She was too petite intent on the trial.
 "Phil, I gotta ask you..."
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