One arm stayed around her, holding her near. The other hand stroked her hair, then settled on the side of her throat. He looked at her mouth, then int... her eyes. She knew what he was thinking: tell me to stop. ‘We’ve got to stop,’ she said, her voice tight. He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t going to do it this way.’ ‘Yes,’ she said, looking away in confusion. ‘I wasn’t either.’ He started to lower his mouth to hers again. ‘But I kept thinking about it.’ She summoned all her willpower and pulled. They were haunting him, calling him names, telling him that he was a sexual deviant who would never understand what they felt having their humanity traded like a c***d’s baseball card. Several men had to use the bucket to shit and the stench became even more oppressive as everyone pretended to be oblivious. As the morning wore on, one by one, the door opened and another name was called. Seemingly they were being called in the order of their arrival which meant Donald was the next to last to. More

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