They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. She studied her form in the full length mirror, assessed 69 her body as one would that of a prize calf, trying to see it through his eyes, through the eyes of desire. Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. I knew it was only a matter of time before the boys started paying attention to you, Lucy.
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