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September 12th, 2015
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Marquesa worked her hands down his back, squeezing the muscles, kneading away the tension.  He lay on the massage table, a white fluffy towel wrapped around his waist.  She sighed as her fingers dug in.  She hoped he would tell her that she could stop soon.  Her hands were sore.  Until then she would keep going.  She had to.  He owned her. Read more…