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Claire sets the key on the dresser, her voice flat as she says, 'I want to meet her. Dress for me—latex dress, blonde wig, the whole thing.' Warren's hands tremble as he pulls the wig from the drawer, the cage pressing between his thighs as he steps into the tight black latex that clings to his smooth skin. Claire watches, unblinking, as he becomes Willow in their bedroom, the belt still buckled under the dress. 'Now sit,' she says, 'and tell me what David promised you.'
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