My body, which had softened, stiffened. I opened my eyes in vain, calling Stan Wallace's name over and over, finding fleeting, minuscule comfort in his hoarse responses.In those rare moments of intimacy, Stan Wallace's hands had also touched the skin beneath my clothes. His warm palms could ignite a fire within me at will.But now, as his hand pushed aside the fabric and caressed my waist, I couldn't help but think of the slick, cold hands of that man in the factory, like venomous snakes, dry and menacing.I would be stripped and torn apart by those hands, those desires, those gazes.Biting down on my inner lip, I forced my eyes wide open, not daring to make a sound, afraid I would lose control, do something that would hurt Stan Wallace the most, push him away.However, during such intimate moments, nothing can be hidden from each other.The movements on my body gradually stopped. A sudden flash of white light made me tightly shut my eyes. My chin was pinched, gently shaken.At
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