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He crouched down in front of you, one arm resting lazily against his knee, and with the other he reached a gloved hand under your face, raising it by tipping against your chin, guiding you to meet his gleaming red eyes again. He clicked his tounge, stroking your bruised cheek with his fingers.
"Come now, sweetheart. You're not done already, are you?"
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A story where Dottore beats the living shit out of you.
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