Lavender's neck is strapped to a pole in a basement. Her wrists are cuffed. She hears sounds of distress and the smack of wood on flesh. She waits, nervous, craning her neck. Before long PD shows up, stuffing her mouth and hooding her head. He drags poor lavender into the other room. Two girls sit on the floor side by side, both with wrists and ankles cuffed, both hooded and chained to the wall. Left to their own devices, their fingers find one another. Before long, they've removed hoods and gags, but metal is another matter altogether. He fucked me half a dozen times, Brina tells Lavendar, panicked and breathless.
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