I trained the camera on each of Pippa's limbs one after the other, making sure her husband got a good view of her manacled wrists and ankles and the chains binding her to the bed. His voice was unsteady. "What's. what's going to happen to her?" I didn't bother to answer, instead, I focused on the lipstick scrawl my wife had applied to the insides of Pippa's thighs, "NEEDY FUCK HOLE"
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