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Diagnosed For Fúcking Part 5

His text message came at exactly 8 PM. It was a single, brutal sentence that made her pussy clench and her blood run cold.

My car. Outside. Now.

There was no question of where. She knew. She threw on a simple sundress, no bra, no panties, just as he’d programmed her. The fabric was a soft torture against her hypersensitive skin. She walked out of her building, her legs unsteady, and saw it. A long, black, gleaming sedan that looked like a panther waiting in the dusk. It was parked right ...

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