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... il swishing faintly.

"Actually," Rhea leaned in, her voice teasing, "do we need to feed you in a bowl now? Kael, you want me to grab one?"

Tila didn’t speak, her black eyes burning, her mind clearly elsewhere—on the plug, on every tiny shift of her body, every movement amplifying the pressure, the humiliating awareness of her role.

She focused on chewing, swallowing, refusing to make a sound.

The meal wound down, plates half-empty, cups drained, the table settling ...

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