They were chained, bxxten, whipped, rxped and destroyed… Others call it history – for you and me it is the present right now, because you made a mistake. I don’t like mistakes. Helpless you stand there now – still like I stretched you at first. Little drops of sweat glitter silently on your skin, pour down and leave a labyrinth of traces. You look down in shame on the wet, dripping flesh pulsating between your legs, while every stroke feels like a scalpel slicing you open.

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