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My first posting.  Ideas welcome.  Klaw87@hotmail.com
---
Stephanie's Adventure


Six months after graduating from college I found myself under mixed
circumstances.  On the positive side, my computer degree had landed me a
terrific freelance job as a consultant.  The hours were flexible, the
pay was fantastic, and it allowed me to relocate to the San Francisco
bay area.  My projects usually required brief, intense periods of work
lasting a few weeks at a time, followed by a few weeks of down time.  My
colleagues used this time to catch up with their families, but as a
single 23 year old girl, I tended to get bored.

In college I had been a member of the cheerleading squad, and I was used
to the action that accompanied that activity.  Here I was surrounded by
career-obsessed married men who were always 10 years older than me.  I
had dates, but they did little to alleviate my boredom.

There was one interesting person I worked with, though.  Carrie was the
receptionist at our office.  She was attractive and younger than me --
maybe 21.  Despite her best efforts to conceal her true nature by
dressing professionally, there were too many clues to her true nature. 
I immediately recognized that she was wearing a corset under her suit,
and that on Monday mornings she always worked to hide the handcuff marks
on her wrists from the office workers.  I was the only one who
noticed...everyone else was fixated on their work.  I never mentioned my
suspicions to her, but our shared sense of humor and more than a little
veiled sexual tension quickly turned us into friends.

Our appearances were almost polar opposites: Carrie was 5'3" with very
short straight blonde hair and blue eyes, and a fit but curveacous body
with noteworthy breasts (no doubt accentuated by her corset).  On the
other hand, I was 5'10", more athletically built, with naturally dark
skin and long jet-black hair in a soft wave.

We had just completed another "rush" project and were having lunch
before I started my time off work.  As usual, I was bemoaning my failed
attempts at adventure and romance.

"You know, I might know of something that would interest you."  She said
mischieveously, locking her eyes on mine and smiling as if concealing a
tremendous secret.  All right, I thought, I'm game.

"Really.  Would this be something that's somehow related to your 19 inch
waist, or your fondness for wearing really long sleeves every Monday
morning?"  I taunted.

Her smile grew wider, then she continued in an ucharacteristically
direct manner.

"I thought you might have noticed that.  You see, I'm a submissive.  A
sex slave.  I spend most of my weekends in the Union Building near the
Trocadero club downtown.  Once I show up Friday night, I'm not free to
leave until Sunday evening.  Does that shock you?"  Again, the eye
contact.

I thought about it before I answered, but I held her gaze.  It did shock
me, but more importantly, it excited me.  I thought and formed my
answer.

"No, that doesn't shock me."  I replied, holding her gaze, "It excites
me.  I want to try this."

"It can get a little rough, you know," she confessed.  "When you're held
captive, they really do torture you and make you bend to their will. 
It's scary, but very fulfilling."  I think she was testing me.

"Look, I've never been tied up in my life.  I've never been with another
woman.  I've always wanted to try bondage and lesbianism.  I look at you
-- you're happy, and every Monday you're back at work, so obviously this
isn't life threatening.  No, I definitely want to try this."  My playful
tone briefly gave way to seriousness as I underscored my committment.

"I can't promise that you'll be picked my my Mistress.  I know she'll
want you, but if another Mistress picks you first, we may not see each
other all weekend." She added.

"If that happens, you won't see me for two weeks.  I want to spend my
entire vacation in a dungeon."  I responded.  She looked at me almost in
disbelief, and then paused.

She finally spoke.  "I think we should go there tonight.  Do you have
anything to wear?"  I noticed that she had leaned in closer.

"Can you help me find something?"

Four hours and nearly a thousand dollars later, I was standing in the
back part of The Stockroom wearing a full-length black rubber hobble
dress and matching opera gloves, a metal slave collar, and 5 inch
locking stilletto heels.  The dress constricted around every inch of my
body, as Carrie zipped the heavy-duty zipper from my ankles up my back
to my neck.  When combined with the heels, the tight dress made walking
a challenge and running an impossibility.  I felt sexy.  Our next stop
was Carrie's aparment where she did my hair and makeup before dressing
herself.  She undressed in front of me, showing both her locking metal
chastity belt and the locking hasps on her black leather corset.  A red
leater miniskirt went over the chastity belt, and with my help she laced
the black patent stilletto boots up to her thighs.  She concealed her
breasts with a latex bra, and then added her own 3" locking collar and
2" locking wrist and ankle cuffs.  Where I was a fetish femme fatale,
she was a slutty submissive.  In fact, we both were stunning, by any
standards.  As it turned out, a wealthy patron of the club routinely
sent a limo out to collect several of the submissives, and it arrived
outside just as we finished dressing.

Once in the car, Carrie began to explain what was happening a little
more.

"The Trocadero is what we call a 'front door.'  New dommes and subs can
be introduced in the club, and established ones can use it as a meeting
ground to find each other.  The bartender keeps a record of which
bottoms leave with which tops, as well as an expected return time.  This
is an added safety feature for the bottoms.  Tonight I'm being sold to
Mistress Rachel from Mistress Holly, and I'll be taken to her dungeon
for the weekend.  Before I go I'll introduce you to some of the other
players, and maybe you'll find something that intrests you."

I took all of this in, listening intently.

"As you probably guessed, there's a protocol for all of this.  Mistress
Holly will order me to introduce you, and you are not to speak unless
spoken to during this process.  If you're unbound when we meet everyone,
that means you're just getting oriented.  If you choose to be
restrained, then the Mistresses know that you're ready to be taken.  You
and the mistress can then determine how long you will be incarcerated."

I wished I could touch myself throught the thick rubber of the dress.

She continued.

"You can simply observe tonight if you want to get more comfortable.  If
you think you may want to submit to someone, they'll want to see a
demonstration of your training or potential.  The club holds contests
where dommes and subs can show their abilities.  My mistress usually
enters me in the contests just to watch me; you might want to try it."

---

And then we were there.  The club was a two story building that had been
a warehouse in the 20's and 30's.  Now there were two doors leading
inside.  The first led to the main floor which was basically a techno
dance club.  The que leading inside was nearly a block long.  The second
door led immediately into a freight elevator going upstairs, and anyone
not in true fetish attire was turned away immediately.  We took the
elevator up, drawing admiring glances from everyone in the que as we
entered the building.

The upstairs only covered half of the building.  The side facing out
over the dance floor was floor-to-ceiling glass, affording the dancers a
partial view of our playground.  I noticed several TV monitors around
the dance floor which appeared to be showing closed-circuit feeds from
the upstairs as well.  Voyeurs and exhibitionists must love this place,
I thought.

The music was more quiet in the play area.  In addition to the glass
wall there were three exposed brick walls, with the room's ceiling 15
feet above us.  The area was strategically illuminated by track lights
which highlighted the various bondage devices throughout the room, as
well as the small stage opposite the glass wall.  The sides of the room
were lined with tables, booths, and couches for the patrons.  The center
of the room contained the toys: a large metal cage that could easily
hold four slaves, which was currently empty; a smaller cage which could
barely accommodate one person on all fours, also empty, a vintage
barber's chair with leather restraints built in, a bondage table with
stocks at the head and foot; a St. Andrews cross, and a pair of
old-fashioned pillories.  Additionally numerous chains dangled from the
ceiling.  I guessed that as many as 20 people could be restrained on
this equipment at one time.

I scanned the room first to identify the staffer.  I noticed a short,
muscular man with a brush-cut in black leather pants and a black t-shirt
with a ring of keys on his waist quietly surveying everything, including
us, and I suspected that he was a bouncer.  There was also a bartender,
a thin blonde woman in her 30's wearing a purple rubber dress, cleaning
glasses behind the bar.

There were a other patrons.  The first couple I noticed was a tall,
bald, powerfully-built black man, perhaps 25, wearing rubber pants and a
rubber t-shirt that looked ready to burst under the stress of his
frame.  His eyes were hidden behind black Gargoyle sunglasses.  Sitting
across from him at their booth as a stunning, light-skinned black woman
who looked about my age, wearing a white bra-panty-garter set with
matching heels.  It took a second to realize that her hands were cuffed
in front of her, and that a black rubber ball gag was around her neck,
ready to silence her.  They talked quietly as she kept her eyes cast
downward.

There was also a tall, thin middle aged couple with slightly graying,
professional looking haircuts.  She ware a dominatrix's black leather
jumpsuit ala' the Avengers; he wore black leather shorts and a heavy
leather collar, by which he was being led around on a leash.  They were
examining the cages.

Finally, there was another girl about my age, shorter than me but
similarly built, with unnaturally red hair and full, beautiful lips,
wearing a red bra, panties and heels, carrying a duffle bag.  I watched
as she prepared for the evening all by herself.  First she locked a
leather chastity belt around her waist and between her thighs, careful
to snug it securely.  Then she put on leg irons, then a heavy leather
bondage belt with D rings around it and two heavy padlocks buckling it
in front.  Then she gagged herself.  She put a very large foam rubber
ball in her mouth, then taped her mouth shut with several thick bands of
tape.  Then she produced an elaborate leather head harness.  Her entire
face below her nose was obscured by the leather.  She then blindfolded
herself before attaching the hood over the blindfold.  Straps ran under
her chin, around her neck, and over her head, holding the whole thing in
place very tightly as she padlocked it onto herself.  To do this
blindfolded must have taken practice.  The then hung a sign around her
neck which read "Property of Mistress Anya", lastly cuffing her hands
behind her to the leather belt.  she was now totally helpless and unable
to see or speak, and she had no sign of her escort being present!  I
shuddered with fear and delight at her predicament.

While I had been surveying the room, Carrie had been studying me.

"The black couple are here almost every weekend.  He never restrains
her, but you can see she's very well trained.  She won't speak or make
eye contact unless he tells her to.  When there's more of a crowd he'll
make her lick his boots in front of them.  She never goes on the auction
block like I do, but sometimes she'll be entered in the competitions. 
The older couple I haven't seen before -- probably tourists.  Very few
male subs here.  The girl who just tied herself up is a lifestyle
submissive: 24/7.  She's safe here, but it wouldn't be at all surprising
if someone took it upon themself to put nipple clamps on her, or give
her a spanking while she waits for her mistress."

"Tell me about the cages."  I asked.

"The big cage is where they place slaves for the contest.  On a busy
night like we should have tonight, they may have 6 slaves, all tightly
bound, pressed against each other in there, each waiting for her turn to
compete.  It's delicious!"

Just then the Mistresses began to arrive.  The first off was Carrie's
Mistress, Mistress Kathryn.  She was also young like Carrie, and wore a
black leather miniskirt and black lace bra under a white silk blouse. 
The attire seemed conservative if this setting, but it was stunning. 
She had the same hair style as Carrie, but jet black hair.  She walked
right up to us, and on cue, Carrie dropped to her hands and knees and
kissed her shoes.

"This slave exists to serve you, Mistress."  Carrie said in a voice so
that all near us could hear.

Mistress Kathryn allowed the grovelling to continue, but otherwise
ignored her.  She smiled at me and extended her hand.

"Hi, I'm Mistress Kathryn.  You must be Carrie's friend Stephanie.  I'm
glad you could join us."

I shook her hand, somewhat bewildered.  "I'm sorry, Mistress...do I call
you Mistress?  Should I be doing what Carrie is doing?  I'm very new to
this."

"No, you're doing beautifully.  You start out here as a guest, and
you're the equal of everyone in the playroom.  It's common courtesy to
address tops as Master or Mistress, but you don't have to submit until
you've identified yourself as a slave.  You look lovely, by the way...I
adore that dress!"  Carrie continued to lick her heels.

"I'll be happy to take you on as a slave for the weekend if that's what
you want, but you might want to play the field first.  There might be
another Domme who is a better match for you.  However, if you enter the
contests, you can bet I'll be the first one whipping you.  Mmmm, virgin
flesh."  I took that as a compliment, after a fashion.  "Carrie, on your
feet, position two, and don't speak.  I don't know why, but you're
already on my bad side, little girl."  Her smile suggested to me that
Carrie was in for a welcomed spanking.

Carrie stood up, clasped her hands behind her, and cast her eyes on the
floor.

The elevator returned.

As the doors to the freight elevator opened, the first one stepped out. 
Everyone in the playroom stopped and looked, and with good reason.

In a word, she was Amazonian.  A 6' tall, muscular yet feminine body in
a rubber minidress and 5" heels, with strawberry blonde hair cascading
over her shoulders.  Her body was flawless, but it was her face that
intrigued me.  In contrast with her fetish dress and the bullwhip and
handcuffs which hung from a belt around her waist, she wore stylish but
very normal eyeglasses.  This gave me the impression she was saying
"Here I am, this is who I am, not just a fantasy."  Before I had been
excited, now I was getting wet.  She walked purposefully over to the
bound slave in the corner and held her close, whispering something into
her ear.  The slave responded by pressing against her affectionately. 
Now I knew who Mistress Anya was.  I thought about it and decided that I
would have endured the same rigors as her slave in order to be with her.

The elevator was returning with more guests.

This time it was a younger Asian woman in thigh high boots and a body
harness which regrettably covered her private areas.  She had a leash by
which she was leading her slave.  The slave was in a slutty
bra-panty-garter ensemble and high heeled mule shoes, and her torso and
arms were tightly bound in white rope which looked inescapable.  Her
skin revealed that she was caucasian, but a leather discipline helmet
prevented me from seeing more.  The helmet had neither eye nor ear
holes, and I could see a bulge where the ball gag must have been under
it.  A red ponytail stuck out the top of the hood.

I imagined how the rope must be digging into the poor girl's wrists,
breasts, and crotch, and again I became envious.  I knew already that I
wanted to be a part of the scene.

"I know who I want to leave with."  I whispered to Carrie.  "I want to
belong to Mistress Anya."

Carried smiled but remained silent.  Mistress Kathryn responded
however.  "Most of the Mistresses here are like me, what we call 'two
day terrors'.  They have normal jobs and lives, and just take prisoners
for the weekend and the occasional weekday overnight.  Mistress Anya is
a lifestyle dominatrix.  Her slave is under her control round-the-clock,
24/7.  She won't 'play' with you, she'll really try to control you.  And
she's good at it.  Is it worth that risk to you just for some fun and
games with a hot chick?"

It was the risk that made it worth doing, I thought.  How would I fare
with two weeks at the hands of this Goddess?

"I know what I want."

"Okay, then we have to change plans.  If you enter the contests, there's
not telling who you'll leave with.  If you want Mistress Anya, we have
to be more...daring.  Carrie, prepare her in the stocks."

When I nodded my assent, Carrie led me over to the stocks in the middle
of the room.

She whispered.  "I'm going to lock you in these, and then Mistress
Kathryn will and interrogate you.  I'm going to put a microphone in
front of you so that everyone in the club can hear you when you answer
her questions.  If you say the right things, there is a good chance that
Mistress Anya will examine you.  If not, you'll be the club plaything
for the rest of the evening -- that's another seven hours, if you don't
realize."

My heart was racing now as she opened the stocks.  She unzipped the
zipper on the back of my dress up to my waist.  First I stepped forward
into the half circles at my feet and she closed the wooden restraint
behind my ankles, locking the catch.  My legs were spread about three
feet apart at the ankle.  it was mildly uncomfortable now, but I could
tell it would become agony after an hour, as would the awkward position
my heeled feet were in.  I leaned forward, placing each rubber-gloved
wrist into the appropriate half-circle on the top of the stocks, finally
resting my neck in the larger center opening.  Bending forward like this
caused the stiff rubber dress to shift off my body. leaving me
completely exposed from the midriff down.  Just as Carrie closed the
stocks over my wrists and neck, I realized that I wasn't wearing any
underwear.  Again, I heard the click of the latch being secured.  The
spotlight on my bondage device suddenly became brighter, and attention
in the room was shifting to me.  I was instantly overcome with the
embarassment of my predicament.

Instinctively I struggled against my bonds.  I was immobile, awkwardly
bent forward with my legs splayed apart, my eyes cast at the floor in
front of me.  With effort I could raise my chin and look around, but I
knew that this would be impossible after only a few minutes because of
fatigue.  I was getting scared, and even wetter.

After I was completely secured, I looked up at Carrie, who suddenly had
a worried expression on her face.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry."  She said, "My Mistress made me do this.  You'll
be okay, though.  Just do exactly what she tells you, no matter what."

She hurried off only to be locked in the large cage by another Mistress,
where she watched me intently.  I knew at that moment that I was going
to get more than I had bargained for.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Masters and Mistresses, Lowly Slut-Slaves, may I
have your attention please."  It was Mistress Kathryn's voice over the
PA system.

"Tonight we have a special treat.  The lowly creature you see in the
stocks before me used to be known as Stephanie, although I think we can
come up with a more fitting name than that.  She fancies herself
something of a submissive, even one worthy of the attention of someone
as perfect as our own Mistress Anya!"  The crowd laughed at that.

"So tonight she is ours.  If her peformance pleases Mistress Anya, she
will be incarcerated.  Otherwise, we'll have our fun tonight and then
I'll just keep her locked in my basement for the rest of the weekend. 
Let's begin, shall we?"  The crowd cheered and applauded.

"Question one: what is your name?"

"My name is..." a sharp sting of a whip across my ass stopped me cold.

"You're not a person anymore.  You're a slave, an object.  You will
refer to yourself in the third person only.  Answer 'This slave is...'"

"This Slave is named Stephanie."  I responded quickly, only to earn
another painful swat.

"No Slave, you surrendered your identity when you submitted to me.  You
have no name until I give you one.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

I quickly realized that my 'interrogation' was really a training
excercise.  More often than not I guessed incorrectly on questions of
slave protocol, only to be whipped and corrected.  After an hour, my
neck, back, thighs and feet ached from the restraint, any my poor ass
was incredibly sore, yet the exercise continued.

"Have you ever been fucked by a woman, Slave?"

"No, Mistress."

"Have you ever been fucked up the ass, Slave?"

"No, Mistress."  I was crying now from pain and humiliation.

"Well then, I think it's about time."  A different female voice said
this, coming from behind me.  Mistress Kathryn suddenly wedged a ball
gag in my mouth, tightening it severely, then she sat in a chair
directly in front of me. I felt gloved hands on my tender ass, and then
a plastic phallus rubbing up and down my crotch, sliding on my wetness. 
Then unceremoniously, the intruder plunged into my asshole.  I screamed
into the gag and bucked helplessly.  The pain and shock passed quickly,
and suddenly I was having the most erotic experience of my life -- bound
and gagged, I was being publicly fucked in the ass by a strange woman
with a strap-on dildo.  My orgasm was almost instantaneous as a howled
into the gag and shuddered violently while the fucking continued.  The
crowd cheered wildly.

Mistress Anya walked up to Mistress Kathryn, looked at me with what
appeared to be only mild interest, and said, "I'll take her."

I may have tried to resist as unseen hands removed me from the stocks,
but I was exhausted by my torment and would have been ineffective.  I
can't remember.  I remember feeling my dress being zipped back on me,
and having handcuffs and leather straps placed on me, leaving me
helpless.  A leather hood was placed over my head with the gag still in
my mouth, sealing me off from the world.  I was carried over to a corner
and placed on my side on the floor.  I passed out from fatigue.

I awoke again after an uncertain amount of time to feel more unfamiliar
hands carrying me to the elevator and then to another car which seemed
to be a van of some type.  Frightened and disoriented, I struggled in
vain.  My captors were silent as they drove me for about an hour until I
was taken in a new building.  I heard the sound of metal doors slamming,
and then the hood was removed from my face.

I was in a dungeon cell, 10x10, with three concrete walls and steel
bars, illuminated by a lone incandescent bulb high above me.  Before me
were Mistress Anya and her slave, whose restraints had been removed but
her gag remained in place.  With the same practiced efficiency I had
seen earlier, she unbound my hands and arms chaining them above my head
to the back of the cell, leaving me seated on a metal cot.  She removed
the remaining leather straps, refastening one about my waist to the cot,
leaving me sitting there. She looked at Mistress Anya, who nodded
silently, and then she removed my gag, then returning to kneel at her
Mistress's feet.

Mistress Anya silenced me with a look, reminding me of my place.  I
worked my jaw, glad to be free of the gag.  Time passed, and she spoke.

"I take on only one or two slaves each year.  This allows me to be
selective and very thorough in my training.  Make no mistake, I chose
you, despite that little floor show you and Mistress Kathryn put on at
the club.  I've seen the paperwork.  You're completely mine for the next
two weeks.  The rules are simple: I demand complete, unquestioning and
immediate obedience.  You will learn or be punished.  Do you
understand?"  Her voice continued its firm but indifferent tone.

"Yes, Mistress."  I replied, surprised at the weakness in my own voice.

"I choose to name you 'Puppet'.  You will answer to that name alone. 
Say it."

"Puppet, Mistress."

"What is your name?"

"I...this slave's name is Puppet."  I caught myself.

"We'll begin training tomorrow.  Tonight I'll have slave Pet demonstrate
proper obedience."

She removed Pet's gag and clothes, and had her stand facing the side
wall with her hands pressing against it as if she were about to be
'frisked' by a police officer.  She then affixed nipple clamps to Pet's
ample breasts.  She said 'open and accept', and placed a large dildo in
Pet's waiting mouth, then placed a running vibrator in her ass.

"Eyes forward.  Don't speak or move until I return.  Silent
ackowledgement, Slave."  Pet blinked once slowly to indicate she
understood her orders., but otherwise didn't move.

"I'll see you tomorrow."  Mistress Anya said, and then left, locking the
cell door behind her, leaving me chained to the wall.

Pet remained motionless, sucking on the rubber cock while the vibrator
buzzed away in her ass.  She made no effort to look at me.

"Pet?" I asked in a whisper.  No response.

"How long have you been here?"  She remained as a statue.  I thought
about how to interact with her.

"Will you be punished if you move?  How will she know?"  Nothing.

"Can you blink for me like you did for Mistress Anya?"  Surely she would
do this!  Nothing.

"Does she really have that much control over us?"  My final question,
and the only one to earn a response.  A single tear rolled down Pet's
face.

The night passed slowly in our windowless cell.  My bonds weren't
terribly uncomfortable but they prevented sleep.  The only way to track
the passing of time was by watching the rhythmic breathing of Pet, and
listening to the batteries slowly fade in her vibrator.  I had plenty of
time to take in my surroundings.

First was Pet, now naked except for her shiny, polished metal collar
which had clearly been welded in place.  The red coloring in her hair
concealed what her real color was, and her shaved body kept the secret.

The cell was unpainted concrete, smooth to the touch, with sturdy metal
eye bolts strategically placed in it.  Beyond the steel bars was a
narrow hallway running parallel to the cell, yielding nothing to me.  I
was seated on a metal cot mounted the rear of the cell.  It appeared
tolerably comfortable, if I were able to lie down.
The cell was spotless, as though it had been washed that very day.  The
only sounds were from an industrial blower in the distance that must
have been supplying the dungeon with air.

Fear gave way to boredom which gave way to daydreaming and fantasy, and
suddenly I was again aware of my circumstances.  I was being held
prisoner by a cruel and beautiful Mistress as her sex slave.  Before me
was an example of her work, an stunning and completely obedient sex toy
with whom I would doubtlessly be forced to engage in acts of
perversion.  I looked at the rubber dress, folded neatly at the edge of
the cot.  I examined the sturdy leather cuffs on my wrists, and the
brass padlocks which held them there.  I savored the gentle but ongoing
strain in my limbs from what had now been hours of bondage.  I imagined
being impaled again by the strap-on dildo that had taken me at the club.

My sex again became moist and my nipples erect, but there was nothing I
could do about it...or was there?

"Pet, you have to help me.  I know we're locked in this cell and you
can't let me go, but I need you to touch me."  She opened her eyes but
remained silent and motionless.

"I'm helpless over here.  Wouldn't you like to kiss a helpless Slave on
the lips?  Or maybe pinch my nipples?  I know...Pet, slip your dildo
inside me.  Just once.  Then you could taste me while we wait for
Mistress Anya.  I promise I'll never tell.  Our secret, between slaves."

Pet first looked around with her eyes, and then turned her head ever so
slightly, verifying that the coast was clear, and then she hesitated
again.

"Come on, Pet!"  I nearly hissed, trembling with excitement.

Wordlessly she came over to me, withdrawing the dildo from her mouth. 
The vibrator in her ass and the clips on her nipples swayed with her
motion.

"You must never tell Mistress."  She whispered, looking me in the eyes. 
I immediately noticed an English accent.

"I promise.  Pet, please fuck me with your dildo."  I begged.

She smiled and slowly slipped the cock deep into me,then quickly
withdrawing it after that single stroke.

"Never tell!"  she whispered again, as she resumed her position.

I wanted to beg for more, but knew that I was already taking a
tremendous chance.

TO BE CONTINUED...


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