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Chicken? Maybe.When I got home I dumped my stuff down the laundry chute and fired up my computer to start on my project for Photography. Mr. Nordstrom...had given us a list of subjects and one of them turned out to be on how to handle difficult lighting. I had just taken some warehouse shots for a client and this project could not have come at a better time. The warehouse was an older one that had about every type of lighting I could think of—incandescent, fluorescent, mercury vapor, sodium, you. "It's okay." I ran my hands up her creamy thighs again, and felt incredible warmth. And lacy underwear. I ran my fingers along the tops of her thighs, and she shuddered and bit my ear softly. Her own hands were working at my belt buckle. I found the top of her panties, and began slowly sliding them down. She raised her hips to help, and then took hold of my zipper. I felt it buzz as it went down, and then I felt her hand massaging my growing arousal. The sensation was amazing. My whole body. She wondered what Manu, her torturer was doing right now.He had left the room, ostensibly to fetch her some lemonade, but in truth, he could not bear to see her whimpering in pain, trying to writhe and not succeeding. How he would manage to burn her clitoris off was only one of his worries. If Al-Mansur had simply ordered her de-clitted, he could slice it off with a scalpel or cut it off with scissors, both methods that, while painful, were more humane than the horror that he had to subject her. I had never used my fighting skills to kill for money though. I was working at a club called the “V” a strip club when I was introduced to Mary by a friend of mine, the club bouncer named Tiny. Mary was good looking but wasn’t showing off, rather the opposite, she was dressed down. She seemed completely out of place in the strip club like a lot of first time women at club like that just can’t relax and fit in. Most of the women who went to a strip club had a hunger to quench. Mary was different.
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