The Gun Room had ceased to be intimidating. The menacing shackles and many implements designed only to inflict pain, were no longer items to be feared; but embraced. I shook off the vague and troubling pricks of discomfort and applied rigorous attention to polishing the brass. My uniform felt comfortable, the exposure now normal. I pretended I had an audience. Bending from the waist, bare buttocks and wet slit mesmerized my admirers. I simpered and fluttered my eyelashes. Feeling daring, I ran the feather duster handle between my soaked folds then licked off my cream. I dried the floor; again.
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