Mr**** Posted 13 hours ago Her handler grunted a reply, lost among the congregation gathered lecherously in the yard, simmering with greed. They already had numbers on her. “Three days!” was the first of them, offered without conviction and taken up nonetheless. “Two days,” came next, predictably enough, and with little reception. “A week!” from someone farther back who enjoyed the sound of their own voice when it cost them nothing. By the time the cage was properly through the gate, the wager had settled into what it always did: not whether the fresh meat would break, but when. “She folds by day’s end,” cruel and rapacious. “Hour’s end, more like,” self-congratulatory. “You’re overbidding it.” Rhetorical and limp. The Book leaned into the wall, feet crossed casually, fingers tapping orders into his phone. *** moved when it needed to. The rest was noise. Inside the cage, the Cunt knelt, hands folded, eyes cast low. A spectacle of acquiescence. Then— “One session.” It came from beyond the rail of bodies, a bored-sounding certainty, almost indifferent to being heard. “Under me.” The change in the room was palpable. A low whistle. A murmur. Some facetious applause. Then the slower current caught it, a riptide of opportunistic greed that pulled the crowd’s attention back to the Book. Elias let the first wave pass in ponderance, something tugging incessantly at the edge of recognition. He looked again to the *** creature behind its bars and then closed his eyes, replaying her obsequious entrance in his mind. That voice. “Ten.” Then half a breath. “She holds.” Elias returned to the room, glancing up toward the Book, who gave a slower-than-usual nod in confirmation. Curiosity. The room caught it too and followed in step, obliging its predictable trope with furtive glances and bets against. Her voice looped again, pitch and timbre teasing recognition. A name, right there, on the tip, but still elusive. Not that it mattered now. Not here anyway. Cunts don’t have names. Elias wondered if he’d managed to stifle a smile in time as Vey walked past him and out of the yard, her eyes lingering. A challenge laid. A challenge accepted. With measured pace and a practiced air of disinterest, Elias followed Vey into the main hall.
Fu**** Posted 37 minutes ago Fairies dykes look alikes where are we where are we going have you wondered why are you are here what is there to do where is there to go is there anything out there I think all we have is ourselves nobody else everybody else is nothing like ourselves so why should we be with anybody or try to let them change who we are
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