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Goldcrests and Glitter

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Weaved wicker abuses my buttocks' soft flesh, abrades my spine, pinches behind my knee. I'm slumped. I'm splayed. I'm balanced en pointe on a single toe, my Lloyd Loom chair no refuge from her exploring mouth. Each shudder, each tremble, each grind of my responsive hips sparking slithers of pain running through my offered flesh.  My glazed eyes gaze, barely seeing beyond the single glazed

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