He laid on the tiles, trying to get as much of his body against the tiles as he could.He didn’t know how long he lay there. It could have been a min...te. It could have been days. Time no longer held him in its warm embrace.He fit the nausea into its compartment. The disorientation went quietly. He pushed them down and away. He looked for more to push, more to compartmentalize – but there was nothing else. And yet, there was still something wrong. Something – something was very, very. All went quiet and Queenie said, "Not here. Twelve is the rule here, Jacqui. OK?"After a few moments, "I suppose," said Jacqui."Well?" asked Queenie."Oh, seven, sorry," replied Jacqui, just in time.A hand, Jacqui assumed Queenie's, caressed her arse cheeks again and slid into the crack. Jacqui twisted a little to try to dislodge it, but it foraged on and soon there was a finger deep inside her cunt. There was no pain; the damage done by Donald had long since healed. On the contrary, she was. More

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