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17

I think I am dying. It is the only way I can describe the sensation. Everything starts leaving me. There is nothing left in the world but me on that table with his hand sealing my mouth shut, my legs wide open, and the friction of his long fingers working me. Forceful, fast,

possessive. Then even that goes and I disintegrate and become one with pure pleasure. Waves and waves of it.

But it doesn’t last. I don’t die. I come back. To voiceless sobbing and acute embarrassment. His fingers are still inside me, and I’ve squirted all over his fine furniture.

I look up into his cold eyes and I think they will mock me, but they don’t. His eyes are more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. I feel breathless. I am transfixed by his eyes. I feel as if I’m being sucked into them. The water is cold but it is impossible to resist. It pulls me deeper and deeper.

Slowly, he takes his hand away from my mouth and I inhale a shuddering breath. His head
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