The Sisterhood

by CarthageOmega12

Tags: #dom:female #f/f #masturbation #memory_play #mind_control #sub:female #breastfeeding #cunnilingus #hurt/comfort #hypnotic_amnesia

Melanie is betrayed by her husband and left to live alone. At her lowest point, she is approached and guided on a new path. It just takes her a while to remember what that path is.

Any feedback provided to this story is appreciated. This story contains elements of memory recollection and hurt/comfort. Thank you for reading.

When Melanie woke up, she could still taste the essence of her dreams on her lips. This was not a comforting sensation.

“Guh…” Melanie grumbled out slurred words as she fully oriented herself into a new day. The taste on her lips turned bad as she breathed in the aroma of unkemptness around her. Sleeping in the backroom of a strip club did not often mean clean living quarters. At least the bed sheets were unsoiled, something Melanie took a moment to celebrate as she got up from the bed and rearranged the covers for the next paying clients.

It did not take Melanie long to sort out her personal belongings. Besides her shorts, crop top, smooth-fitting undergarments, and casual sneakers, she had a small backpack containing her wallet, a broken cell phone, and whatever portable food and drink she could save. She remembered when she had more, but she did not want to remember how things had gotten this way.

There was a full-length mirror in one corner of the room, which Melanie used to check herself over. Without the chance for a shower, Melanie’s reddish-brown hair looked somewhat messy but still presentable. Her thin body had some curves, and she did need a B-cup bra to avoid unnecessary bounce when on the move, but her job in data entry for a shipping company’s local branch was more sedentary than she liked sometimes.

Leaving the room afterwards, Melanie navigated through the empty halls and quiet front end of the club’s interior. It was a small establishment, one that Melanie had chosen just for a night and given a generous renter’s fee in advance to the club’s owners. They, a couple sporting matching rings on their ring fingers and matching relaxed postures, had told Melanie she could stay for one night with her “renter’s fee”. They would also put word for another club they acquainted for her to stay in next at a reduced cost.

Jumping from club to club had been part of Melanie’s life since… oh, God, since only yesterday. It felt far longer than a single day.

Thinking about it brought back the same memories; Melanie screaming, a stranger sharing sloppy fondles with her just-married husband, and an open pack of condoms in clear view on her old bed. The memory of her throat burning from how much vitriol she had launched at her husband only added to the pain. But being kicked out of her home with whatever she could carry in a small backpack and on her own body was the worst part to recall.

Melanie shook her head to clear it all out, but it was very hard to clear away the bad taste of the love of your life betraying you for a complete whimsical interest.

The young woman moved to a back entrance to the club told to her by the club owners. No sense in having someone leave through the main entrance when the place was supposed to be closed, they had agreed. Melanie understood this treatment signified her place on the social totem pole here: very low. Lower than folks willing to pay good money for good times.

She had swallowed her pride by coming here, away from places and people she had known. She had burned through a sizeable portion of her personal savings already. She had been reduced to a wandering homeless woman, something out of a nightmare. But where else could she have gone when all her relations and friends had left for their own homes, too far away to get to on foot, and her only way to contact them without using more of her money was broken?!

Melanie licked her lips as her memories changed their tone; they brought back a sweet taste, something, or someone, she could not remember beyond meeting last night. If that meeting hadn’t been just a dream, that is, since this was a strip club.

Melanie stepped out of the club’s darker interior into the brighter day of a backside alley. The club sat near the end of the “red light district” of a larger city. The city was a hubbub of activity even in the early morning, people and cars moving by on their own agendas and activities. People all having lives beyond Melanie’s care; she had been like that just two days ago.

Melanie sighed and joined the crowd. The first thing she wanted was some breakfast. After that, she would find her new temporary home and any surrounding places of note. Anything to get some enjoyment out of her downtrodden situation.

“You look lovely, Miss.”

Melanie nearly choked in surprise while sipping on her small coffee. She felt the liquid’s searing touch dribble down her chin and onto the small napkins on her lap, taken from the same coffee shop she had gotten the drink from. Twisting on the side of the park bench she was occupying, she looked up at the speaker standing to her left. Her reactive thanks died in her throat when she saw the woman’s icy blue eyes and warm smile.

Melanie swallowed what remained of her sip’s contents. “Uh… Thank you.” Real smooth, Melanie.

“Pleased to hear you are pleased.” The woman disregarded Melanie’s attitude. “Sharing respect and care is something anyone can do. I just think you need it more than others.”

“Sure. Thanks again.” Melanie looked down from this woman’s face to see the rest of her. A quick scan of her dark blue business suit identified her as “Office Worker”, and the three-inch heels on her feet accentuated the image along with her height. Her black hair was pulled tightly back from her face, drawing out her eyes even more against her lighter skin.

The woman gestured towards Melanie’s coffee that she still held in her hand. “Which shop did you get your drink from?”

Melanie blinked. “The coffee shop at the east end of the park.” She pointed in that general direction. “It’s a café, but it has takeout too.”

“Ah, I haven’t been there yet. Thanks for the recommendation!” The woman’s smile grew a tiny bit wider. “My fiancé and I may drop by there this afternoon.”

Melanie took a metaphorical punch to her gut with nothing more than saying, “Okay.” Damn it, she mentally vented, why did she have to bring up a love interest? It made Melanie feel even lower down on that totem pole, so close she could touch the mud-covered bottom.

“Would you like to join us there, dear? Say, at two—”

“No, no, that’s not necessary.” Melanie roughly chugged down some of her coffee, the scalding temperature fueling the fire of denial about her own lost love in her heart. “It’s fine, thank you, but I don’t want to do it.”

“Alright, that’s fine.” The woman did not leave, despite the conversation seemingly being over. Then she asked Melanie, “May I ask one more question to you?”

Melanie huffed into the lid of her coffee cup. Just answer it and she’ll go away. “Okay, fine,” she said after she had taken another sip. The caffeine buzz and the coffee’s flavor counteracted the sour impact this stranger was giving her.

“Have you heard of the Sisterhood?”

“The what-now?” Melanie lowered her cup to her lap, keeping both of her hands tightly gripped on it while she looked just above the stranger’s eyes. “That some kind of church?”

“It’s an extended group of friends and acquaintances based at a local convent. They aren’t a church per se, they just took the name because it fit. Like a sorority.”

Melanie kept her opinion to herself and instead asked back, “Are you with this group?”

“I am an acquaintance, yes,” the woman explained with a quick nod. “My name is Mora.” Then she extended her hand towards Melanie, incentivizing her into a handshake. Something to connect them a little more, Melanie figured.

Showing a sense of personal hygiene, Melanie wiped one of her hands on the napkins still on her lap before she took the offered hand and gave it a few bobs up and down. “Mora is an unusual name,” she stated.

“I am an unusual person, so it fits.” Mora chuckled at her own wittiness, and then slowly eased her hand out of Melanie’s not-so-firm grip. She and Melanie both automatically wiggled their hands, though neither of them noticed the other doing it. “Well, enjoy your drink and your day. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

She turned away and walked towards the east end of the park. Melanie watched her for a few seconds, which was enough time to see how her body’s curves were not entirely hidden by those clothes. She then turned back to her drink. That woman was weird. She dressed like a professional worker, but she looked quite attractive and spoke to Melanie without a care of any differences between them. That handshake had been a simple gesture, and her comments weren’t filled with high-class terms or things only veterans of the workforce would know. And she had called Melanie “lovely” like she had known her.

Melanie sipped the last bits of her drink, draining the cup for however much liquid energy she could gain. Once that was done, she wiped her face with a napkin, only to pause as the scent of something clearly not coffee-based crept into her nostrils.

What the hell? Melanie sniffed again and found the strange scent was coming from the hand that had held Mora’s for those few seconds. It was like honey but not as thick. It was… good. Very good.

She coughed as she inhaled that scent again. That smell… those eyes…

She remembered.

Those eyes had been there, blazing in the shadows of the darkened room. Despite their intensity, they appeared as cold as a star in the void of space. The eyes shone into Melanie’s own eyes, a sign of dominance imprinted cleanly into the retina and cornea. They bound her to the floor, undergarments surrounding them in haphazard fashion.

“Listen to me, Melanie,” a silky voice had ordered through the mouth of this woman. “Listen, drink, and obey.”

The owner of those beautiful eyes spoke orders to her, and she absorbed the words while suckling the juices beneath a second, warmer star resting atop her mouth…

“Haagh!” Melanie snapped back out of her mindscape. Her hand trembled mere inches from her nose. That same scent continued to float into her nose, grabbing her with gentle hands to pull her back into those dreams. She pulled that hand away and vigorously wiped it with her napkins.

“What’s wrong with me?” Melanie whispered as she double-checked the offending hand after she felt it was clean. She almost drew it back to her nose but managed to stop herself. Getting up, she put the coffee and the used napkins in a rubbish bin. It was far harder for her to throw out the images and sensations she had just felt.

Those eyes were something Melanie latched onto for clues. Mora must have been in the strip club last night. She must have stayed in the same room as Melanie. Doing things to her she did not know how to feel about.

Melanie shivered. What had happened in that club? And why did it make her nether region tingle as she walked?

The strip club Melanie had been given advance notice about was not a real “club” at all. It had the appearance of a bar, but two special “private rooms” on an upper floor had been rented by the owner, a gray-haired woman named Griselda. The rooms were used by a specific group of patrons that liked to indulge in more ways than drinking. The tour of that room, and the rest of the bar-club hybrid, took close to an hour, primarily because Griselda asked Melanie lots of questions about her prior life. Melanie kept her lips shut tight, answering only what was necessary so the owner wouldn’t throw her out on the street.

After the tour, Melanie paid her fee for one of the special rooms. It was close to fifty dollars less than the previous club; Melanie appreciated that considering her saved cash was running quite low. Then they both sat at the bar on adjacent, black-topped stools, to engage in more idle talk and a more casual introduction. They both also shared glasses of tap water to keep their throats and lips dry; the day was starting to really heat up outside.

“I am not a therapist,” Griselda soon explained, her voice carrying a thick Russian accent but speaking very articulate English. “I just like to know people who come here. Many come for a simple drink, many others for simple fun. Your circumstances are not so simple, truly, which makes me very curious.”

Melanie tightened her fists against the bar’s hard counter. She looked down at the counter’s various marks and polished areas, a sign it had been used for years and years. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she firmly said. She didn’t want to growl it out, but she was getting close to that point.

Griselda put her glass gently down on the counter. “Then we shall talk about what you will be doing next,” she offered. “Your future, however far you are thinking about it.”

“You don’t need to know that.” Melanie pushed her own glass to one side. “You won’t be seeing me after this little engagement.”

“Melanie, if you do not think about this carefully, no one will be seeing you again.”

Melanie turned to look warily at Griselda. “Are you threatening me?”

“I am warning you.” Griselda turned to Melanie and held eye contact with her. Melanie’s eyes looked far more innocent than Griselda’s at that moment. “There are people out there that would enjoy someone in your situation very much. Someone to hold, tease, caress, and bend until they break into pieces. You cannot hide from them without getting your life on track.”

Melanie swallowed hard, turning back to her water. Griselda kept talking, using phrases like “thinking sensibly” and “being calm”, but she tuned them all out. The warning she had just heard carried images of things that could have happened between her and her husband but didn’t. Getting injured in a fistfight, for example, or not taking what money she had before forcibly being ejected from her shared apartment. How lucky she had been to carry some level of sensibility in that situation!

Shame that sensibility can’t help me find a new place to live any easier. Or a new lover. Or a new job. Or some more cash unless I want to sell myself out as an actual stripper. God, what would Mom and Dad think of me if they saw me like that?

Melanie blanched. What if her former husband saw her like that?! Would she spit in her face and laugh… or play with her like a toy and leave her broken inside and out?

Melanie looked down at her hands. They were shaking again. She tried to breathe slowly while her mind conjured pictures of herself as a woman who sold her body for pleasure. Indulging in the fantasies of the flesh rather than a more rigid working schedule. But her body wasn’t pretty or sexual; it was just hers.

Could she act differently? Could she be a woman who drew the eyes of others by her beauty?

“Melanie? Are you listening?”

Griselda was still speaking. Melanie blushed, embarrassed, before she apologized: “S-Sorry, but this is starting to scare me. All… this.”

Griselda, watching Melanie’s eyes flick between several objects around her, appeared to understand what “this” meant to Melanie. “Change is scary. It is better to not face it alone. Or so says the Sisterhood.”

Melanie couldn’t hide a jolt in her gut from hearing that name. “Uh, who?”

“The Sisterhood. A large group of rich women who sometimes travel to bars and clubs like mine and the one you were at yesterday. They do not mind being among drunkards and lowlifes.” Griselda tapped her fingers quickly against the bar counter as she spoke. “I know enough about them to believe they could help you now.”

“I don’t want…” Melanie stopped herself before finishing the sentence I don’t want their help. How could they help her? She wasn’t anything like what she imagined them to be: sensual, beautiful, moving among a crowd like a beacon of light against smaller candles, looking in the prime of their life as—

–as she rubbed Melanie’s naked breasts with tender motions. Melanie whimpered as tingles went up and down her body, her tongue threatening to break free from the confines of her lips and lick the sweet liquid she felt coating her skin. She settled for tilting her head back and looking at those shining blue eyes that gave her comfort and pleasure.

“Good girl, Melanie,” the voice whispered. “Such a good sister.” And she leaned in to kiss Melanie’s cum-stained lips—

Melanie bit her actual lips and squeezed her eyes shut. Where had that come from? Why had she thought it at all? It was totally inappropriate for this situation!

“Melanie?” It was Griselda again. She sounded concerned. Melanie did not want that kind of concern when she felt like this. She shot up from the stool, hands almost grabbing the glass, and took a few steps back from the bar.

“I’m sorry, I need some time alone.” Melanie felt as tall as an ant on its hindmost legs. “No more, no more talking, Griselda. Please.” She licked her lips, tasting the same sweet liquid as in her dreams. She barely repressed a whimper of fear with that realization. How had it gotten there? She had only been drinking the water Griselda had provided…

Cold sweat trailed down her neck and back. She needed to get away from here. She needed to get rid of this pleasure.

Griselda raised an eyebrow as she looked at Melanie, confused but staying silent. Melanie raced up the stairs to her bedroom for the night, slamming the door shut behind her. Once alone, she exhaled and tried to think happy thoughts.

Her breasts grew warm. She still tasted that sweet juice on her lips. Her tongue snapped out to lick it like a cat cleaning itself. She felt too overwhelmed by everything wrong with her life to stop this action, too tired to resist this dream-spawned substance. What she wanted was a chance to let go of the world for a while. There were multiple ways to do that.

God, this is so wrong. Melanie pulled off her sneakers and climbed onto her new bed, lying on her back to look up at the ceiling. I’m not like this. Why am I…?

Her question dissolved as her wandering hands acted on her body’s urges. Melanie moaned as she cupped her breasts through her clothes with one hand. The other hand snaked down, down her stomach and gingerly slipped beneath her pants. The sensation of skin rubbing against skin, after suppressing the feelings for an entire morning, triggered a tiny orgasm.

“Fff…fuck.” Melanie’s voice came out dainty and childish, as if she were inexperienced with the ways of sexual pleasure. Her former husband had given her a lot of love when they had been dating, and she knew where the most intimate parts of her body were. Was that not enough to satisfy him? Did he want another body to bang and gotten another woman to satisfy that urge?

Melanie’s rubbing intensified as she panted, her tongue wiggling around her face to try and find more of that lovely dream juice. She moved between both of her breasts as her lower hand slipped a finger into her folds. She bit her lip to try and block out the moan this made, closing her eyes to the world around her for what she hoped would be just a few minutes.

I’m not like this. I’m not. But it feels so…

Melanie rubbed faster, squeezed harder. She eventually moved her breast-grabbing hand beneath her shirt so she could pinch her nipples without obstruction. Her legs twitched, her toes wiggling as she worked to satisfy herself as quickly as possible. She knew how to do it, but the past forty-eight hours had put a strong damper on her capability to enjoy her body.

Her body was not like that woman her husband had been banging. No, fucking was the right word—it matched the callousness of that man’s lying vows and lack of commitment. The woman he had been fucking had breasts the size of his large hands, skin that glistened with sweat, and legs that could bend back enough for him to hold and use as handholds as he thrusted his cock within her folds—

Fuck!” Melanie squeezed her breast like it were a lump of clay, like he had done several times before. “Fuck you!” she cursed at him. “Fuck you!” She rubbed herself harder, working to end this suffering and cleanse herself of these vile thoughts and memories. She felt the wave of orgasm coming, approaching from the distance. Soon, it would break.

Melanie dug her fingers into her pussy as best she could. “This isn’t good enough for you?” she spat at the man who had rejected her. “Had to find another hole to fuck with, huh?! Mine isn’t—oh—good enough?!”

There was no answer. Melanie suffered in isolation, crying even as she felt her orgasm come closer. It needed one last, big spike of pleasure. But she was already doing everything she could; in the past, the steady, firm thrusts of her husband’s cock had provided that spike. When he had stiffened inside her and gave one final demonstration of his commitment to love her, she had embraced it with relish. Now, she had nothing of that sort to draw on.

Melanie groaned in as much despair as pleasure. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t cum, and it was agonizing—

but she endured it. She had not been told she could cum. No matter how devoutly she plunged her fingers into her pussy and stared at herself in the full-length mirror, she could not cum. It was so arousing and terrible to see herself like this and not be able to do anything about it except plead with her Mistress laying right next to her on the bed.

“Please, Mistress, please let me cum.” No matter how stressed her voice was, she could not talk any louder than a whisper; another order forced in place by her Mistress. “I need to cum. Please! Please!”

Mistress only smiled, those blue eyes glimmering in the mirror, and placed a hand behind Melanie’s head. “Then drink, Melanie, and cum. Take my love and become my sister.”

Melanie’s mouth opened wide, and Mistress pulled the masturbating woman’s focus away from the mirror to her teat. She suckled hard, pulling in a torrent of that sweet liquid she loved so much—


Melanie’s back arched off the bed as the orgasm finally arrived. Her pussy squirted out burst after burst of her juices, staining her undergarments and pants very quickly. She kept it going, her earlier wish to get this act over with replaced by the desire to keep going, keep frigging herself until she could give no more. All the bad thoughts flowed out of her mind like water, leaving only the soupy remnants of love and satisfaction in her head.

As the orgasm ended, Melanie’s fingers gave a few final rubs. She panted, sweating profusely, driven to an orgasm born from her dreams. Or was it her memories? It seemed too real, too important to dismiss like that. They all had that same woman, that “Mistress” she could not disobey…

Mora. Her name was Mora. Mora was her Mistress and Sister. Mora was going to be at the café at two-o-clock today.

Melanie smiled as she let fatigue was over her along with the afterglow.

Melanie floated naked on the surface of a pool of water. She opened her eyes and caught glittering lights far above her. At the edge of the pool were three large stone statues of human women, their eyes all covered by their hair and sporting the same caring smiles. She opened her eyes wider when she felt wet fingers massage her temples.

Melanie looked up to see the blue eyes and smiling face of Mora standing in the pool. “Mistress…” Melanie breathed out. She felt too tired to move or do anything else than talk. But that was enough for Mora to smile at her and gently spin her body around in the water. When Melanie’s head was lined up with Mora’s, they passionately kissed. Then Mora pressed her tongue into Melanie’s mouth, causing her to moan in remembering her place.

Mora broke the kiss and leaned back. “I am your sister, Melanie. And I want you here, with me.”

“I want you too, Mistress.” It felt so right for Melanie to say that, and it also got Mora to keep smiling at her.

“Come to me, sister. Be with me, and the Sisterhood. Join us, and all your worries will be gone forever.” She leaned down to kiss Melanie’s forehead before lowering them both into the water to indulge in greater pleasures.

Melanie’s eyes opened. She inhaled that sweet scent, placing the hand that had shaken Mora’s hand to her lips and licking the skin. She still tasted that sweet liquid there, and she wanted more.

Her body instead dropped her back into sleep, too tired to keep her awake any longer.

Melanie surfaced from the pool alone. Her Mistress had left her. But she had felt and obeyed a compulsion to stay. Climbing out of the water, she turned to look at the space around her. It was a cave, deep and dank and humid with small glittering crystals above the pool. It felt warm; it felt safe.

Melanie then looked at the statues. They were all colored ocean-green and stood close by each other. She took in their postures, their ample breasts, their open legs, and their glistening vaginas, with a growing sense of need.

As Melanie looked at them, the statues moved. Their mouths opened and closed; words Melanie only half understood slipped into her mind. Then the foremost statue raised its head and willed its mouth to split open like an egg. A long, red tongue, slithered out of that mouth, so long Melanie knew any man she had fucked before could not compare.

"You have come to the Sisterhood," the leading statue told Melanie, giving the English language and a twisted vibration in the listener's ears. "What do you offer us for our pleasure?"

She hesitated, thinking back on what had led her here. She had been betrayed, cast out, seduced, and guided into a state of obedience. She did not feel any greater before the Sisters and their hidden sanctum than a beetle before a human's boot.

Melanie did not regret her decisions. She inhaled, taking in the sweet scent all around her that permeated the sanctum with the blissful gifts of warmth and comfort. Those were things she wanted, more than anything in her life could provide. Now, at the cusp of achieving her desires, she had only one thing to give.

"I..." She inhaled again, feeling the sweat flow down her flesh. "I offer my body and mind to you." She blushed and imagined the statues to turn their heads ever so slightly to get better looks at her naked flesh and open mind.

"Your thoughts and flesh are pleasing." The Sister's mouth curled up in an attempted smile, that tongue tapping against Melanie’s forehead for a moment and making her pussy clench. "But pleasures of the flesh are best when given and received in equal measure. This shall be your test."

The Sisters made various coos and giggles as the speaking member of their group stood at her tallest and spread her long, ocean-blue legs open. The sweet aroma dripping out of that stone pussy slammed into Melanie’s nose and brain like a sledgehammer. She dropped to all fours, drooling, her own tongue sticking out as far as it could go as she panted like a dog in heat.

She felt so hot. So thirsty. Her throat burned for a sip, a drink, a droplet of what she knew was in her reach yet impossibly beyond her capability to fully know.

"Come to me, Sister. Sup from my loins. Taste the shared fluids of our Sisterhood."

She crawled forwards, craning her neck up to reach the liquid she saw flowing down alien thighs. Her tongue latched onto the furthest stream of juices and tasted them. Her brain exploded with delight, her fantasies becoming more real than her dreams had ever promised.

She worshipped the Sisters’ shared love, not caring as they shifted around to watch her indulge or the words they put into her head. She only tasted love and happiness, the only emotions that mattered in the Sisterhood. As the juices coated her cheeks and splattered across her glazed eyes, she smiled in total, unending bliss.

She was free.

Griselda had not been around when Melanie had stepped out of the bedroom. Cleaned up as best she could manage, Melanie left the club with a new mission in mind. She walked back to the city park, strode along its paths, and came to the same coffee shop from that morning.

Opening the doors to the shop was simple. She recognized Mora’s eyes from across the shop floor, and the white hair of the woman sitting across from her. Tilting her head slightly, anticipating the discovery of something amazing, Melanie confidently walked up to their table.

Mora was the first of the two to notice Melanie, and her smile set Melanie’s heart aflutter. “Melanie! Good to see you again!”

The other woman turned to look at Melanie as she approached; Griselda, eyes widening as she saw Melanie for herself. She kept quiet as Melanie walked up to Mora and clasped one of Mora’s hands in both of her own.

“Mistress.” Melanie kept her voice quiet but firm. “Sister. I am here, just like you asked.”

“Such a good girl.” Mora let Melanie bask in the adoration of her Mistress before she turned to Griselda. “What do you think? A good addition to the Sisterhood?”

“I…” Griselda looked between the changed Melanie, eyes only for her Mistress, and Mora’s waiting stare. “I did not expect this to happen so fast.”

“It usually takes longer. We just had the right things at the right time with her.” Mora looked at Melanie again and gave her another smile that made her whimper in momentary pleasure. Her Mistress’s happiness meant that much to her.

“Even the… you-know-what?” Griselda leaned down to whisper that last part to Mora. “When did you do that part?”

Mora winked at Griselda. “The mind makes the impossible possible, dear. I just had to give her some instructions to follow. She wanted to escape her sorrows so, so badly, she would have done anything to feel happy with herself.”

Mora turned back to Melanie. “Sister, can you order drinks for us all? My treat, of course.” She whipped out a credit card from seemingly nowhere and offered it to Melanie.

“Yes, Mistress.” Melanie took the card and waited to hear both women’s preferred choice of beverage. Once she got them memorized, she left them to continue their discussion. She wondered what they were talking about, but that soon changed to looking at every other woman in the shop. What if they could all see what she did? What if they were all part of the Sisterhood?

Melanie twitched as her pussy tingled with new anticipation. There was time for that later. For now, she had orders to follow and a newfound freedom to enjoy.


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