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You are my slave—and such you shall continue. Her eyes noted it mercilessly. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 27-06-2024 12:44:06
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