Une méchante saloppe, n'est-ce pas, Brigitte?"Brigitte stared in the face of what must be a beautiful girl, a really sweet blonde doll. But right now...all kinds of emotions contorted it. Saliva ran from the weak, open lips. Tears and snot dripped from the nose and cheeks. She must have bitten her lips cruelly. Blood seeped from little cracks. Her neck seemed unable to keep her head upright.Soft groans struggled to pass the swollen tongue. The lips tried to form words. Maybe she said "Bonjour,. I'm doing this to you as a joke, at most as an experiment."The urgeto run hits me again, to flee back to my family. But I know that I must bestrong. I must not run away from myself any more. I must be true to my stationand status and ambition. I hold still, trembling, dust motes awakened by themovement of the large wooden construction dancing together in the slanting raysof late afternoon sunlight which slant from the window. "Lasttime you came here, I failed to force you to suck my cock. I was. More

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