Stella Cluain Meala Whore ❤️❤️

About Bray

Alright, mate, gather ‘round! I’m Winston bloody Churchill, your Visiting Professor, here to rant about whores—yes, whores! Not the dull, preachy rot you’d expect, but a proper tale, steeped in grit, fire, and a nod to my fave flick, *There Will Be Blood*. Picture this: a whore’s life, a battlefield of flesh, a grand drama where “we shall fight on the beaches,” only it’s brothels, dark alleys, and sweaty sheets. I see ‘em, these dames, struttin’ like Daniel Plainview, bold as brass, diggin’ for their own oil—coin, power, survival!

The Jail of Cluain Meala

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So, I keep at it, right? And then, outta nowhere, this kid runs up to me. He’s got a pencil that’s more like a toothpick. “Can you sharpen this?” he asks. I’m like, “Kid, I’m a sharpener, not a magician!” But I can’t say no. I take it, and it snaps in half. I’m like, “Oops, my bad!” The kid just stares at me, wide-eyed. I swear, I could hear his heart break.

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