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... er fingers… what kind of beauty will that be… ah, look at your pot-holding, udder-squeezing, shit sweeping coarse fingers… truly upsetting…”
A dull crack filled the tent.
Before the slave could scream, a smiling Kereyid had already grabbed the gigot off the floor and stuffed it into her mouth.
Four more quiet cracks followed and the young slave shook violently, her blushed face now paler than a ghost. Tears dripped down her face and she fell to the ground, her broken misshap ...
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