Sixty eight

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Ringo knew better than to pull on the handcuffs again. The last time he did that, he scratched his wrists.

"Resistance is futile, Ritchie." George said, brown eyes darker than usual. "Wait here."

Ringo watched as he walked out of the room. George left the door open. Ringo badly wanted to just run off if it wasn't for the handcuffs holding him down the bed.

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