PREVIEW
... days of his wicked conditioning. I cried a lot like a child and wanted nothing more than to smash the glass. I hadn’t realized how bad it was until then, how I had convinced myself that I was no longer beautiful.
After a few weeks, I got used to my reflection. I didn’t hate it any less, but it got ’bearable’.
He did things to my lactating breasts that made me cry and beg and appreciate the experience, because that sensitivity was something unusual and he was taking full advantage ...
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