til it aining a sliced lemon on table, its s refresry July afternoon. t falls in regular parallelograms tted blinds so rol of tside, a few birds ced songs of high summer.

    taccato click of bootory barrage of gloved fists on ter under , te ed ing for me in terranean torture-c t of taur he orifice of a sow.

    My fatumbles across tea-table. Cups, saucers fly apart in s ty air to catc, lost  slips away from him for ever.

    tripped me, raped me on t under my moture, t over me, t a gun in my back and forced me doaircase to ting outside. I  pain.

    Madame Sc uniform of drab olive, ockings and t stab took my particulars at to tell er of t riding upon a y, sed end of te to terior membrane of my labia minor. t tral node of t stunned me more ted.