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Iggy tried to rub it off, but it wouldn’t budge,

“I’m sorry, Rebecca; it’s permanent. I walked in, avoiding the bartender, and found a group of six men sitting at a table in the back. What would you like?” one said in English but with an African accent. I didn’t wake up until the following day, having a rough night reliving the thoughts of the train I just pulled and my time with the Kabye. I looked behind me, and the other men stood in the doorway, blocking my exit. “Yeah, come in me, fill me up like they did,” I wailed. Zafra bent down and lowered my panties; I stepped out of them. The restaurant was empty, but when I looked into the bar, I saw it was hopping. They made me find a therapist to see regularly to help me through this nightmare. I let them fuck me until they were too tired or they couldn’t get it up anymore.