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63. Burning Pie

Ray laughs at me the entire ride home. The jerk took my purse with him as well, with my phone, so I wouldn’t be able to call anyone to come get me. And he’d tied my hands so tightly, it had taken Mr. Dante cutting the tie with a knife to get my hand loose.

Walking to the counter in my underwear and heels, hands tied behind my back and the smell of my own cum covering me has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me, and this punishment from Sinclair is just downright mean.

I’ll get back at him. I swear to the Goddess. Thankfully, Ray had me memorize her number when I first arrived at New York, just so I could reach her if I ever got lost. She came with clothes and her annoying-as-hell laughter. Best not to even mention the gag.

Ray snorts, swerving to the lane that leads to the highway. “Damn, girl, you looked the fool. I’d be practicing how to dice his dick like sausages and feed it back to him if I were you.”

I ignore her, because I’m too mad to respond. When sh
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