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The Tyrant's Secret fetish - Chapter 81
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... swallowed the last of him. The water was still hammering down on my shoulders, my knees were killing me from the tile, and my mouth tasted like him and soap and regret all mixed together. I tried to stand up on my own, but he just hooked one arm under mine and yanked me upright like I weighed nothing.
"Stay still," he said, voice all low and smug, reaching for the soap bottle on the little shelf behind me. "You’re a mess. Let me fix it."
"Fix it? Fix what? I’m not a fucking car," ...
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