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... p>

Her body ached in places she hadn’t known existed before Diana’s light-dick marathon. Her thighs burned, her back was sore, and the place between her legs felt like it had been through a divine war.

[Walking would’ve been a mistake. Flying hurts less. My poor kitty needs a spa day. And therapy. And possibly an ice pack the size of... well, me.]

She landed awkwardly on the wet stone, wincing as her thighs protested. The temple entrance gaped like a hungry maw, dark and wet. ...

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