MALLORY DAWN BRYANT

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There was an angry red welt across her belly from the pantyhose, her gray pubic hair was sparse, her stomach sagged, her thighs were dimpled, but she stood with her spine straight like she was proud. She noticed the girls staring at her. “Would you prefer me to be ashamed?” she asked. “My appearance is the least of my qualities.”
Witchcraft for Wayward Girls
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