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Chapter 38: The Weight of Scars

I keep a smile plastered on my face as I slowly drag the zipper down the back of my dress, peeling it off my shoulders and letting it pool at my feet. I'm left standing in just my underwear, but that doesn't last long. With a few deft movements, I unclasp my bra, push the straps off, and toss it aside.

The look of horror that washes over his face when he sees my once smooth, unblemished stomach now covered in scars is deeply satisfying. "Can you see?" I ask, my voice dripping with a mixture of anger and resignation. "This is what I've been hiding under my clothes. See these?"

I turn around, exposing the angry red welts and lash marks across my back. "I got these when I willingly participated to be the sex slave of a wealthy psychopath. He doesn't sleep with the women, but he derives pleasure from their pain and the sight of their blood. All I had to do was take whips on my body and cry like there's no tomorrow, and I get the complete money to start Zayne's treatment."

I point to a par
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