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There was no stigma attached to it either. It was just "our normal."It made me happy and we all had fun together.I was also a straight A student and ...didn't have many interests orfriends outside the house with "Daniella" providing me (and my sister)with the engine for hours of self amusement. I didn't play video games.We didn't watch a lot of TV. With few outside distractions I was ableto finish as valedictorian of my high school. Upon getting intoHarvard, my sister suggested we go out to. It changed my life. More than that, her memories and experiences saved me from the very loss of my own. Not that I would have recognized their value at that time. Only much later would I realize how invaluable my first days of existence had been. Those days that I was allowed, or forced, to operate the way I did shaped my thinking patterns uniquely in ways that would benefit me in times to come.This early initialization of my heuristic routines would lead me to rely on them far more than the. It started relatively simple, with men. Nude men. Long camera shots across their bodies, homing in on their big cocks. One of the men was a well-endowed hunk with a tanned, ripped physique and a cock longer than the combined length of the three prisoners! He and his handful of friends stood around a bedroom, teasing their growing erections as the cameras circled. Suddenly, words flashed across the screen, so fast that Gareth almost could not catch it. It said: Big men are superior to you! He. It included a choker, a vinyl playsuit with three ring tethers. Jane's breasts were wide open. Jane also wore garters that held up a pair of fishnet stockings. Her feet were in a pair of over- the-thigh, stay up vinyl boots, made of nylon/spandex, with three inch heels. Jane rang the doorbell and was welcomed in by Miss Collins, dressed simply in a white teddy and matching stockings. "Hi slave, how are you today?" asks Miss Collins as she pulls Jane in, pushes her against the wall and shoves.

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We are not trying to kidnap your daughter.”I briefly thought, ‘Hey! Not a bad idea. Let’s kidnap Misty and make her our sex slave. Oh wait, she�...�s already our sex slave.’ I snickered to myself.Marjorie said, “Then let’s tell her that her father and I approve of her proposal.”I went and yelled up the stairs. The two came down a little more serenely this time. Their eyes showed that they were both full of teenage questions about the outcome of our negotiations.I said in a serious tone, “We decided. She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. My eyes blinked in the light as I lay there, holding the sheets up to my chin, staring wide-eyed at my brother. He stood in the doorway in his t-shirt and boxers. He’d obviously bounded out of bed and burst in here, expecting to find us being attacked by some masked intruder or whatever. When Tara’s words sank in, he visibly relaxed, and then his face became concerned. He came into the room and walked towards me.“Is everything okay now, Bec? You. More

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