"Did I hear you …" began McClintock. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. Sometimes I try to talk. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. He died in the war. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 03-07-2024 14:27:11
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