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Subject: {Pervette}TG The Girl Inside 4/5 M/F M/M CD femdom
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Pervette}TG: The Girl Inside (4/5) (M/F, M/M, CD, femdom)

This story was written by Princess Pervette.  Despite a 
certain compatibility, I am not the author.  I am posting it for 
Princess Pervette because she can't.  -- Vickie Tern

Warning:
Contains adult material.  Not to be read or downloaded by persons
considered underage in the jurisdiction in which they live.

May be posted to any appropriate newsgroup; may be archived on
any not-for-pay Web site.










Laura sent me home in my slutty drag.  Maybe people saw me as I left my car
and went inside, and maybe they didn't.  I was beyond caring.

When he saw my face, and how I was dressed, Chuck said, "Teddy, dear, are
you all right?  My God, that woman...!  What are they doing to you?"

He had never called me "dear" before.

In response to my questioning look, he went on.  "It's the way you look.
Not what you're wearing.  Well...that, but it's that glassy-eyed look on
your face...like a mystic...as if you were in ecstasy."

In a very low voice, I said, "That was just it, Chuck.  Ecstasy.  When
Laura told me what she was going to do, that she was going to put me on
exhibit in front of all her women friends, I dreaded it.  But when the
party took off, and they were all using me....  Anyway, when Laura said I
was their slut and they all began to have their way with me....  Funny,
old-fashioned expression, isn't that, `having their way'?  But that was
what it was.  When that happened, I really got into it.  Chuck, I *liked*
being their slut."

"Slut?  Is that what they call you?  What's your femme name?  Kind of hard
to figure a feminine form of Ted.  Tedetta?  Tedessa?  Tessa...?  Oh...of
course: Theodora, I suppose."

"No; she just calls me Baby, or Girl.  That or Baby Girl, or sometimes Girl
Baby."

"You mean, she's done all this to you and she hasn't had the decency to
give you a name?  You're right, Teddy.  Just a feminized slut.  That's all
you are to her.  A nameless pair of holes."

I looked at him.  "Chuck...I'd do anything to have that experience again."

"Ted, she's destroying you.  I've known you and lived with you for half a
dozen years now, and you aren't the same person any more.  Not the same
guy."

There were tears in his eyes.  "Teddy, I've got to tell you this.  I love
you, Teddy.  I don't mean, I want to get into the sack with you.  I know,
that's not your thing, and I respect that.  But I love having you around,
just being with you.  It's been so many years.  When I come home, and
you're there, or when I'm here and you come in, my whole world just lights
up.

"I don't want to lose you, Teddy.  Oh...I know, I will some day.  You'll
get married, and I'll be your best man, and I'll manage.  It'll be all
right.  Just knowing you're happy will make me happy."

This came as a complete surprise to me.  Chuck had always concealed his
feelings, to the point that I hadn't had any inkling that they existed.

"But this isn't marriage.  This is something else.  She's taking Ted away.
Taking you away completely.  It's not as if Ted were just somewhere else,
with a wife.  Ted isn't anywhere now.  Or hardly anywhere."

My sleep that night was troubled with dreams.  Dreams of abasement and
slavery, of women using me in every conceivable way....

****

The phone blasted me out of bed Sunday morning.  Through the haze of semi-
consciousness, I heard Laura.

"Get your cute little ass over here, Baby Girl."

"You mean, now?"

"I mean, right away."

I didn't know what to expect.  When I got there, I changed as usual and
walked in in my bra and panties (and garter), the way she liked.  I found
a sumptuous breakfast laid out.  Juice.  Eggs.  Bacon.  Pancakes.

"To-day we celebrate your coming out, Baby.  Go upstairs, throw on a dress,
and come back down here."

And all day Sunday was one long celebration.  For once she was all smiles.
She kissed me, over and over; she pampered me; she put me in a luxurious,
lacy peignoir I hadn't worn before; she had me wear nice comfortable girl's
slippers instead of heels.  In the afternoon we went upstairs and she
tied me up and gave me one of her fantastic, controlling blow jobs.  I
surrendered to her as I lay there helpless, abject.

The next week was given over to drill.  More practice in walking in heels,
moving, sitting down, the same things we had practised the week before,
over and over again.  Make-up and hair care.  Another butt plug, bigger
still.  And dildo practice, at both ends.

"It's not enough to look like a slut, Girl.  You've got to feel like one.
You've got to be one, inside."

****

The following Saturday, we had another party.  I was much more secure in my
heels, now, and when I made my entrance I did a little turn, flaring out my
short skirt for their delight.  Then I stopped cold.  This evening's crowd
was mixed.

There were the same six women as last week, but with them were five men.

When we went up to my room for sex, the men came along.  If it had been
thrilling to serve the women last week, it was doubly thrilling now as I
realized that I was being used--humiliated and used--while the men were
watching me.

But after I had satisfied five of the women, Laura announced that it was
now the men's turn.  "Slutty girls are for men," she said, looking at me
as I lay strapped down in the bed, "not just for women.  And it's time we
broke you in."  The men had by now stripped.  "You're going to do this out
of love for me, Girl, aren't you?"

That, I realized, was what all the dildo practice--and the butt plugs--
had been for.  Opening me up and training my lips and tongue for the Real
Thing.  And here in the room there were five men with five Real Things
standing erect, waiting for my services.

They took me two at a time, one at each end.  But they kept changing off,
so I ended up being fucked many more times that I had expected.  The men in
my ass used condoms, for which I was grateful at first; but then each man,
as he finished, carefully stripped off the condom and emptied it into my
mouth.

It was nasty, at the start.  I wasn't gay, and the idea of gay sex repelled
me.  But then the same old urge took hold of me--the urge to be a feminized
slut at the bidding of my Mistress.  And as I remembered her words--"out of
love for me"--I began to have the same delirious excitement I had had the
Saturday before, and that I had had earlier this evening as the women used
me.  Stripped down to bra and open-crotch panties and being used, finally,
as a real girl.  And I began to get hard inside my panties.

When the men were finally spent, one of them noted my excitement.  "Hey,
Laura, look at the little slut's hard-on!" one of them cried.  "Should we
let the little cunt jerk off?"

Laura bristled at the word.  "Watch your tongue.  Not cunt.  Not from you.
She's a little slutty girl, all right, but she's my little slutty girl, not
yours."

She turned to me.  "Yes, Girl Baby, you're excited.  I knew you would be; I
meant you to be."  She sat on the bed next to me.  "I think we should show
these nice people how I can dominate you with my lips."

And she gave me one of her fantastic blow jobs, right there in the midst
of the crowd.  I think they understood the domination, too.  More loss of
control: lying there strapped to the bed, my arms immobilized, passive,
as she brought me again and again almost to the peak, until finally I was
whimpering and begging her to let me come.  It was a virtuoso performance,
and as I trembled, coming down from the experience, I was proud of her.
Proud of her and proud of how well I had served her and her twelve guests.

We went back downstairs for drinks later.  As I was preparing drinks and
getting more munchies in the kitchen, it suddenly struck me that one of
the women had never used me.  Not last week, and not this week, either.
While I was wondering about this, I heard a movement behind me.  Then an
embarrassed cough.  I turned around.  It was the sixth woman herself.

"You did very well to-night," she said.

"Thank you," I said.  Then: "But I noticed that you didn't...er...indulge."

"I wasn't allowed to," she told me.  "My name is Ralph, by the way.  Or
used to be.  I belong to Mistress Julia.  She brought me here so I could
see what Mistress Laura had done to you."

"You mean, you're...?"

She smiled.  "You could say I was one of Mistress Laura's alumnae," she
said.

I stared at her.  "You mean you've been here, and you've been through...?"

"Please.  We won't have much time to talk.  Yes, I was one of her girls.
She did to me just the same things she's doing to you.  Only I think she's
going to do even more to you before she's done."

That was what Laura had said the week before.

She wasn't smiling.  "She'll feminize you and use you, and eventually
she'll get tired of you."

"And then...?"

"She'll pass you on to someone else.  The way she handed me over to
Mistress Julia."

I was aghast.  "She dumped you?  How could you stand it?  I think it would
kill me."

"She made it pretty easy.  And inevitable.  She said I should go out of my
love for her.  You do love her, don't you?"

I nodded.

"All her slaves do.  It's love, and it's the satisfaction of their hidden
desires.  And when the time comes, you'll go."

She went on.  "When she makes her men into girls, they stay that way.
She's very thorough, as I guess you must know by now, and she takes only
men she knows are promising."

"Well...if I may say so, she was certainly thorough with you.  I would
never have dreamed you weren't...."  I stopped, embarrassed.

"Give her six months and nobody will dream you aren't, either.  Maybe less
than six months.  You're already a good deal closer to passing than you
think.  How long has it been?"

"Only a couple of weeks."

"I remember when I had been her girl for two weeks.  I wasn't anywhere near
as far along then as you are now."

I thought of something.  "Have you met any other of her, um, `alumnae'?"

"A couple."

"Are they all like us?"

"Pretty much.  The ones she gives to men are generally the more slutty
ones.  That will probably happen to you.  She's made you sluttier than she
made me."

She leaned closer to me.  I could smell the cologne she was wearing.  "Just
watch out," she said, quietly.  "Not for her; for yourself.  She'll take
you as far as you want to go--and then a little further.

"The whole process is driven by your desires, more than you think.  That's
the way she works.  She's like a mind reader.  She doesn't ask you what you
want; she knows.  And she gives you what you want.  That's why her girls
are so devoted to her.  She gives them all they ever wanted--and then a
little bit more.  That's why you have to watch out.  For that little bit
more.  Don't let your desires get out of hand, or you'll find yourself in
deeper than you want to be.  Much deeper."

"Was that what happened to you?"

Before she could answer me, there was a voice:

"You, Lady Boy!  What are you doing here?"  It was Mistress Julia.  "Did I
give you permission to talk to Laura's slut?"

"No, Mistress," my friend answered.

"Come back here and let little slut here tend to her work!"  She took hold
of Ralph by one ear and carried her off.  "You're going to pay for this,"
I could hear her exclaiming.  "You're going back into your cage for this!
And I'm going to make you do the garbage men again, don't think I won't...!"

I didn't have time to think about Ralph and her punishment.  I was stricken
with worry.  Handed off to another Mistress.  I didn't think I'd be able to
stand that.  And the possibility hung over the rest of the evening like a
black cloud.

As I was leaving, Laura handed me a videotape.  "For your friend Chuck," she
said.

When I got home, however, Chuck was in bed asleep.  I was glad not to have
to give him any explanations.  If I had looked ecstatic last week, I must
have looked out of my mind this time.  I stripped down to my bra and
panties and collapsed onto the bed and into a night of troubled dreams.

****

Sunday was another celebration, even more festive than the one the week
before.  She preferred the carrot to the stick, she had said, and this day
was all carrot.  She had bought me more clothes, and she had me put on a
fashion show for her.  Bikinis, thongs, tap pants, sissy panties; dresses,
gowns, robes, bodysuits, teddies, pantyhose...the collection seemed
endless.  I noticed a Wolford's label on the pantyhose.  I knew by now how
Wolford's prices ran: she had gone all out.

I was wishing I could discuss my conversation with Ralph, but I didn't want
to disturb the happiness of the day.  As I decked myself out in one outfit
after another, all I could think was:  I mustn't let her get tired of me.

Sunday evening I watched the videotape with Chuck.  I was stunned.  Laura
had taped the five men as they were using me.  There I was, on the bed, my
dress turned up, with a man pumping into my mouth and another one butt-
fucking me.  Two of the women were holding my legs in the air, by the
ankles.

Chuck said, "I don't want to watch this."

"Chuck, if you don't, I'll get in trouble."  Now the men had changed off.
One of them was emptying his condom into my mouth.  Laura had told me not
to swallow, and there was a close-up of my mouth, white with the ejaculate
of three of the men.  But the scene went on and on, as the men continued
to possess me, and for the first time I saw my degradation at one remove
instead of experiencing it.  I was embarrassed to have Chuck see this, but
of course that was what Laura wanted.  And in spite of myself, as the
images awakened memories of that dizzying experience, I found myself
excited by what I saw.  I suddenly wished I was still back there, still
being used.

At the end, Laura's face came into view.  "Chuckie, this is what your
roomie is doing at my place.  Dressing like a girl and getting ploughed.
Aren't you jealous?"  And the tape went blank.

Chuck was silent for a long time.  Then he said, very quietly, "I didn't
think you were gay, Teddy."

"I'm not."

"But I saw your face.  I was watching the video; I was watching your face.
You were getting off on it.  You had that same goofy look I've seen when
you've come back from her.  Your eyes were glazed--as if you were on
another planet."

"Chuck, I don't get off on the men.  I get off on being made to do it.  By
her."

"The woman's a monster."

I had a sudden realization.  "No, Chuck, if anybody's a monster, it's me.
Or something inside of me.  She just found it and let it out of its cage."

****

Monday evening she took me out to dinner and then to a private home.  I
wondered: Was this to be another orgy?  But it turned out to be the home of
a friend of hers who was a physician.

"Sylvia, this is the girl I was telling you about."

"Oh, she's cute, isn't she?"  Then, to me: "Come into my examining room,
Honey."

And she gave me a complete physical.  Eyes, ears, nose, throat, chest,
genitals...the works.  "Hmm.  Her anus shows some signs of wear and tear.
A bit...well, looser...than normal.  Been using her very hard?"

"Yes, my Baby Girl has been, well, fucked over pretty thoroughly.  And
there are the butt plugs, of course.  There's no problem, is there?"

"No, but there could be in the long run.  I'm going to teach her to do
Kegels."

She explained that Kegel exercises were designed to firm up the sphincters.
"You don't want to become incontinent in your old age, Honey," she said,
"making messes in your panties."

She took a blood sample, and then we went home.  When I asked Laura what
all this was about, she gave me no answer.

But on Wednesday, when I arrived, I found out.  Laura had a little bottle
of pills for me.

"Hormones," she said in answer to my enquiring look.  "The next stage.
That's why we went to the doctor.  You have to take these under medical
supervision."

I didn't like this idea at all.  "Er...Mistress...that's a little further
than I'd care to go."

"How far you go is my decision, not yours."

"But I would grow boobs, wouldn't I?  I can't handle that!  They would
show.  At work I'm a man.  My career...that would ruin my life."

"It would ruin Ted's life, you mean.  But Ted's life was already ruined
from the moment you chose to work with me.  Don't you understand that?
Hasn't that been implicit from the beginning?  We are destroying Ted.
Killing him.  That's what your commitment is about, what all our work
together is about.  Slowly killing him.  You aren't going to be Ted any
more.  You're going to be my little slutty Girl Baby."

I remembered what Chuck had said to me: "Ted isn't anywhere now."

"I...er...Mistress, let me think about this...."

"You don't need to think about it, Baby Girl," she said.  "Don't worry your
little head with thinking.  I can think for you.  That's what I'm here for.
Just take the pills like a good little girl, and leave the thinking to me."

She had a glass of water.  She opened the bottle, removed the cotton from
the top, and shook out a little purple pill.  "Now, be a brave little girl
for me, Baby, and take your pill."

Well...how much harm could one little pill do?  I could take it now and
renew the question later on.  That was so much easier than disputing the
whole issue with her right now.  I took the pill and washed it down.

"That's a girl.  You have a natural gift, you know.  I'm taking you further
into femininity than I've ever taken anybody before.  You should feel good
about that.  Proud of it."

And, as so often when she talked to me, I did.

****

Life went on.  I was much more calm at work now, and better able to
concentrate on the job.  The work went smoothly.  I had grown so used to
panties now that I hardly realized I had them on.  And they had come to
feel natural on me.  Natural--and right.

My hormone treatment continued, and so did Laura's training sessions.
Feminine behavior, in ever greater and more minute detail.  I was much more
presentable now.  When I went for another makeover, I sat in the front of
the shop, not the back room, and nobody "read" me.

Then came work on my voice.  She got a videotape about voice training, and
we spent hours working with it as I tried to get it right: not a falsetto,
but a higher register than usual, and great emphasis on intonation and even
on vocabulary.  It gradually became a habit.  One evening at home I slipped
into my feminine voice and didn't realize it until I saw the look on
Chuck's face.

And the parties continued.  Not every week, but never more than two or
three weeks apart, and now many of them were all-male parties.  Always the
same, with Baby Girl the center of attraction, the party slut, the easy
fuck, available to anyone who wanted her.  One evening we never made it as
far as my room; I ended up on the living room floor with my skirt over my
head and one man after another in me.  Somewhere inside me there was that
voice protesting that this was not what Ted did, that Ted wasn't a fag,
that Ted didn't let men fuck him this way.  But that voice was drowned out
by the knowledge that I was under the sway of my Mistress, that I was doing
this out of obedience to her.  The excitement, the vertigo that that sweet
knowledge engendered, always carried the day, and, as I felt my men
thrusting into my butt and down my throat, I loved it.  I cried out; I
moaned; I squealed; I wanted more; I couldn't get enough of it.

A few days after I had started the hormones, I noticed that my nipples were
tender.  Tender and maybe a bit swollen; I couldn't be sure.

We paid a couple of visits to Laura's physician friend, so she could see
how I was doing under the hormones.  She said there were no problems.

Then, one morning after I had been on the pills for a little more than a
month, I was showering and noticed that I had distinct projections on my
chest.  Not obvious, but the beginning of breasts.  I panicked.  How could
I conceal these at work?

Laura noticed them, too.  "Oh, my sweet little girl!" she exclaimed.
"You're coming along!  Okay, I've got to get you a training bra.  We'll put
you into it to-morrow night."

******


Part 4

That was the first time I ran away.  I came home that night and couldn't
sleep.  I lay in bed, feeling my nascent breasts and wishing they would
somehow shrink back down again.

I had been going through this entire process with Laura like a sleepwalker
or like someone in a trance.  And now I woke up for the first time.  It hit
me:  How weird all this was.  I remembered that inner voice, the one that
kept objecting that this wasn't the real Ted, that Ted didn't do things
like that or let things like that be done to him.  I had not heard that
voice for some time; now I did again.  Then, too, I suddenly saw myself as
I would look in others' eyes--in the eyes of my colleagues at work.  Me,
Ted, the take-charge guy, wearing panties and dresses.  Dressed like a
whore.  Providing sexual services to all comers.  Being used in the most
degrading manner.  And, lately, alone with Laura, letting her use my mouth
as a urinal--her newest step in my training.  My God...!  How long would
that particular exercise remain private...?

My life would never be the same again, she had told me at the beginning.
And the prospect had only made me more eager.  And when she started me on
hormones, she had said we were destroying Ted.  I had taken them anyway,
under the sweet, hypnotic sway of her domination, thrusting the reality of
what they would do to me out of my mind.  But here the reality was, now, in
the form of unmistakable swellings on my chest.  I couldn't live with this.

When I have that kind of sleepless night, the only thing that will let me
finally drop off is making some kind of decision.  Some kind of resolution
to be carried out the next day.  "To-morrow, first thing, I'm going to..."
something.  And that night I decided that I was going to break it off.

When I told Chuck that in the morning, he told me I had come to my senses
at last.  "It's the only way you'll survive, Ted.  I would have told you to
break it off long ago, but the decision had to come from you, not me."

I remembered what Laura had said--that Ted's life was already ruined, that
we were slowly killing him.

I didn't go to Laura's that evening.  She phoned me, but we let the
answering machine take the call and didn't pick up.  I sat around in a
comfortable dress, one of the feminine outfits Laura had encouraged me to
take home with me...and then, realizing what I was doing, changed to a
shirt and shorts.  And I took off my ruffled blue garter and threw it away.

But I was still wearing panties.  I told myself that that was because I had
thrown all the other underwear away.  But I hadn't; I had kept a couple of
pairs for doctor visits.  I remembered that and reflected wryly that the
only physician I had seen since this whole business started was Laura's
friend who had prescribed the hormones.

The hormones.  I got the bottle and flushed the remaining pills down the
toilet.

But I was still wearing the panties.  And as Laura's unanswered calls
continued for the next couple of days, I continued to wear them.  One
morning I put on my Jockey shorts.  They felt terrible.  Well, I told
myself, if it's merely a matter of comfort...and put on panties instead.

Work was hell that week.  I couldn't concentrate.  I went about in a fog,
sleepless after nights of terrible dreams.  Dreams of loss, of deprivation,
of wandering endlessly in empty wastes.  Other dreams, about Laura's
parties.  Still others about dresses and lingerie.  But always, in the end,
more dreams of emptiness and desolation.

I worried about my boobies, which--maybe it was just my imagination, but
they seemed to be still growing, even after I had stopped the pills.

But I worried more about dressing.  I was unable to stop.  I had managed
for the first two days, just wearing panties; but the third day, when I
came home from work, I took off my jacket and tie (I dressed more formally
than most of the guys in my section) and looked in the closet for a change
of clothes.  The dresses were still there.  I had meant to throw them out,
but somehow, I had kept procrastinating.  And I saw a nice blue dress that
I knew was the most comfortable thing I had.  Loose and flowing, but not
bulky or hard to manage.  And I remembered how nice it looked.

And I put it on.

Chuck frowned.  "I thought you were over all that now."

"Well, it's only clothes, after all."

"Ted, when a man puts on a dress, it isn't `only clothes'."

"Well...but I'm in the mood for something comfortable."

All he said was, "Yeah, right."

****

My rebellion lasted only a week.  I had stopped seeing Laura on a Tuesday.
I broke down the following Tuesday.  I dialed her number.

"Mistress...?"

"Who is this?"  She knew perfectly well who it was.

"Mistress, it's me.  Your Girl Baby."

"What do you want?"

"I...I want to come back."

"It's a little late for that now."

"Mistress, please.  I've tried to get along without you, and I can't."

"So you think you can just drop me when you feel like it, not saying good
bye or giving me a word of explanation and not returning my calls, and then
just pick me up again when you want.  It doesn't work that way, Ted."

Ted.  Not Girl or Baby; just Ted.

"Mistress, I implore you."  Chuck gave me a disgusted look.  "I need you.
More than I can say.  Isn't there something I can do?  Something that will
change your mind?"

It's clear to me now that she meant to have me back.  But it wasn't then.
She let me suffer for a good five minutes on the phone while I pleaded with
her and abased myself to her.

Finally, she said, "No.  Not to-night.  Call me again this time to-morrow
and we'll see."

When I called the next night, she told me to come over.

When I got there, I stripped to my underwear, as I always did, and walked
in.  She took one look at me and said, "Where's your garter?"

Oh, God.  I had forgotten about that.

"I...er...when I ran away...well, I....  Well...it's gone."

"You have a lot to answer for, Girl.  And you're going to answer for it to-
night.  Follow me."

We went, not to my room, but to the basement.  Unfinished.  Bare concrete
walls.  When we got there, there was another woman there already.  Martha,
the first woman I had pleasured at that first party.  She was holding a
whip.

The place was cold and dark, lit only by candles.  There were shadows
everywhere.  I was terrified.  This was far more than I had bargained for.
Laura must have seen it in my face.  She said, "This is your expiation,
Girl.  You didn't expect to get off scot free, did you?"  I shook my head.
"Take off your bra and panties and go to the wall.  No, over there.  Not so
close."  I backed up a step.  "Now put your hands up against the wall, as
if you were being searched.  Hold them there."

Martha came over to me and spoke to me gently as I stood there naked.  "My
dear girl," she said, "I want you to see what I'm going to use."  She held
it up.  "This is what is known as a flogger."  It was a fearful object, a
handle with lots of thin strips of leather attached to it.  "I'm not going
to be gentle with you.  This is punishment, after all.

"But it can also be a new step forward.  If you take this in the right
spirit, you can discover new depths within yourself.  It will be painful--
very painful--but it can be fulfilling.  Such fulfilment as you have never
known.  I promise you that.  Now..." she held the object up to my face
"...kiss the instrument of your punishment."

I kissed it.

"You are making this offering of your own free will.  That's why you're
standing there instead of lying bound.  Your willingness to suffer is your
gift to us.  And your pain will be our gift to you."

I could feel the expectancy in the air, the tension.  Martha lit some
sticks of incense.  As their scent began to pervade the area, I felt as
if I were going to take part in some kind of sacred ritual.  A ritual of
atonement, with me as the sacrificial victim.  Laura had been the priestess
of my feminization; Martha was to be the priestess of my atonement.

She started gently, in spite of what she had said.  She just brushed
the leather tips across my butt.  Then across my back, just below the
shoulders.  Just firm enough to stroke without tickling.  She did that two
or three times.  Then the gentlest, softest blows.  No pain at all, just
barely beyond those first brushes.

She settled into a rhythm.  One stroke every second or two, it seemed to
me.  It was clear that this was going to be a very long session.  My heart
was pounding.  The blows were sharper now, and beginning to sting.  One to
the back, one to the butt.  The tempo was steady, but I never knew where
the next blow would fall.

end 4/5


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