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Tabitha's Tickle (and my other books) are back in print!

Robin Wilde

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Back in the 1990s, I published four novels featuring f/m tickling and tease and denial, originally with Masquerade Books, and after the closing of Masquerade, by Pink Flamingo. I've just republished them as ebooks, and because of the long support and kind words I've received from this community, I'm giving a 50% discount to members of the Tickling Forum good through the end of the year. I'm also posting a tickling scene from each of the four books below. I hope you enjoy them.

Cheers,

Robin Wilde


Tabitha's Tease https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/582793 (Normally $4.99, 50% off coupon, use code AT52Y)

Tabitha's Tickle https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/582796 (Normally $4.99, 50% off coupon, use code XA74X)

The Capture of Archer Cordell https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/582802 (Normally $3.99, 50% off coupon, use code BW38W)

The Taming of Archer Cordell https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/582804 (Normally $3.99, 50% coupon, use code CG95S)
 
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Here's a scene from my first novel, Tabitha's Tease.

“Close your eyes,” Tabitha ordered, and he obeyed. He felt soft hands stroking his arms and legs. Delirious, horny, he writhed under her arousing touch. She had good hands, knowing hands. “Mmmm, delicious,” she cooed. “I’m going to enjoy this.” Gently, she dragged his arms above his head, and suddenly he felt something cold go around his wrists. When he heard a metallic “snap,” his eyes flew open! Tabitha had put handcuffs on his wrists and fastened the other ends to the table legs.

“Wait a minute,” he said, “W-what are you doing?”

Batting her innocent eyes, she smiled. “Why, I’m getting you ready for your punishment,” she said. “Surely you didn’t think that was it.” She pulled one of his legs out and slipped a noose over it, fastening it to another table leg. Before he could react, she had his other leg fastened. He was helpless.

“Untie me,” he pleaded. “Please. I don’t like this.”

“Shhh, this is your punishment,” she replied. “You’ve been a very bad boy. If you behave and take your punishment like a man, we may not have to get you expelled.”

The threat was enough to calm him down a little bit, but being tied up scared him.

“Perhaps,” she smiled. “But you’ll certainly be a mascot. You’ll get more if you behave and don’t argue.”
He tugged experimentally at the cuffs. He was well and truly helpless. “W-what’s going to happen to me?”
She smiled. “You’ll find out, all in good time.”

“W-what are you going to do to me?” Robin asked repeatedly, becoming increasingly frightened. What had he gotten himself into? What were they going to do to him? All this just to attend a girl’s school so I can get laid he thought, and I still haven’t gotten laid.

“Slow torture,” she smiled, trailing her fingers over his bulge. He strained upward to meet her gentle touch. Maybe this wasn’t going to be real punishment after all, he thought. Her fingers stroked gently up his chest to his nipples, and circled them sensually, scratching at them, driving him insane with tortuous pleasure. Then they began to tickle, softly, tantalizingly. “How ticklish are you, anyway?” she asked with a teasing grin on her face.

His eyes widened with shock. “Oh, my god, no, please!” he cried, desperately and futilely tearing at his shackles. He was terribly ticklish. Vulnerable and scared, he fought for freedom. If willpower could have broken his metal bonds he would have been free. Just the thought of being tickled was more than he could stand. He hated the idea. Of course, that would be his punishment.

“I guess I’ll find out myself,” she giggled. “Your underarms? The inside of your thighs? Your neck? Ooh, the widdle boy ticklish!” Her fingers played spider’s-legs over his spreadeagled and helpless body. He was ticklish, more ticklish than even he realized. Every spot she touched was more ticklish than the one before. He struggled to maintain control, then giggled helplessly, then began to laugh, cackle, convulse as the tickling grew in intensity. He pleaded desperately, his pleas choked off by bursts of helpless laughter. “No—ha, ha—please—no-oo!—hahahah!” he cried.

“I know,” she said brightly, “how about your feet?” The first scratch of her long red fingernail down his vulnerable arch made him scream helplessly. “Oh, baby, you’re very ticklish, aren’t you? Too bad. How about your kneecaps? Oh, your ribs! Careful, you almost hurt yourself. I don’t know when I’ve met someone so ticklish.” His laughter came in bursts and screams, wrenched from him at each touch of her wiggling, squirming fingers. If it weren’t for his erection, he was positive he would have wet himself.

“Oh, look! It’s been one minute. Only nine more to go,” she laughed, utterly in control and obviously enjoying herself without limit. Her wicked threat exploded in his brain. He would never live through nine more minutes of this eternal agony.

Her merciless fingers continued to tickle his underarms, his stomach, and nipples. He writhed in helpless, uncontrollable laughter, squirming futilely to escape. He begged helplessly, “No...hahaha...please...stop...aaaah...no!” But her tortuous tickling continued. Seconds passed like hours.

As soon as he seemed to have his sensations under control she switched tactics, moving from gentle tease-tickling to digging her fingers into his twisting sides, convulsing him in agonies of bursting laughter. “Poor baby,” she laughed. “What’s the matter? Am I getting to you already? That can’t be right. I’ve got nearly six minutes to go!” Each announcement of time only prolonged his agony. Eternity minus eternity is still eternity.
Tabitha straddled his helpless body and sat down so her panty-clad crotch rubbed against the bulge of his hungry cock. Then she attacked his vulnerable torso with her fingernails. He giggled and sputtered and pleaded with her to stop wiggling her fingers in his armpits, tracing her fingers up and down his arms and chest, and making slow, tormenting circles around his rock-hard nipples. She dug her fingers into his sensitive sides, making him howl with agony. She tickled his ribs and tormented the agonizingly sensitive ridge of his hip with her fingertips.

“Oh, ha-ha, I ca-can’t stand-ha-ha-any more!” he pleaded futilely.

“Oh, I could,” she smiled. “I’m having so much fun I could extend it at least another ten minutes. How about you? Could you take fifteen more minutes of this? Your face is all red and there are tears in your eyes.”

Devilishly, she traced the contours of his neck and sides, sending shivers up and down his body. Slowly and tormentingly, she moved her tickling fingers down his body, switching back and forth from tease-tickle to outrageous attacks on his ribcage.

Robin had never been so helpless, so unable to control his fate, so completely at the mercy of another. His cock pulsed and bounced, desperate and crazy for attention, for some warm, wet place to go. But as devastating as this torture was, it was still about the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him.

Tabitha wiggled around, showing off her cute ass in a skirt that had ridden up high enough to reveal her pink panties, and then began to tickle the soles of his feet by dragging her nails up and down the sensitive flesh, driving him into a renewed frenzy. She laughed at his pleas and tickled his feet with even greater enthusiasm. He could feel his sanity slipping away in one eternal burst of sexual agony.

Finally, finally, she looked at her watch. “Your ten minutes are up,” she smiled.

Stunned, head reeling, his body a mass of sensitive nerves, he gasped for breath during the respite. He could barely concentrate on anything, but he was immensely relieved the torment had stopped, at least for now. He was still a prisoner, though. Experimentally he tugged at the cuffs and ropes. He could feel the red marks where the bonds had bitten into his wrists and ankles during his long, futile struggle.

Tabitha stood up and smoothed down her dress. He looked hungrily at her. Perhaps now he’d get what he so desperately needed. His cock was so hard the sight of her body was nearly enough to trigger his orgasm.

“Enjoy yourself, baby?” she asked teasingly. Perching beside him on the table, she stroked her hands over him, rubbing her palm over his hardness. “Hmmm, looks like you leaked just a little bit.” She giggled. “Do you like being tickled?”
 
Here's a scene from the sequel, Tabitha's Tickle.

“Is little Woody ticklish?” Susan cooed.

“Ha-ha-ha-no! Hee-hee-hee-please!” He choked and twisted as four sets of girlish fingers tormented his helpless nude body. No sooner had he begun squirming under Susan’s teasing fingers than the other girls joined in--teasing Tiffany and the two new cheerleaders. His cock was still rock hard, saluting its captors, but his mind was overloaded with the powerful tickling sensations. He hated being tickled and he was very ticklish; this was true torture for him.

He howled and pleaded and guffawed and laughed uncontrollably; he jerked at the inflexible mechanical cuffs that held him to the leather exercise bench. Susan and Tiffany were still seated on either side of him, working on sides and neck and underarms and nipples. One of the new girls, short with light brown, sandy hair and brown eyes, worked on his stomach and inner thighs, while the other new girl, another cruel looking brunette, tall and classy, had pulled a stool up to the foot of the bench and attacked the soles of his foot. It was a tickle orgy with himself at the center, and he wasn’t enjoying the attention one bit.

“Please...ha ha ha ha...I can’t--ha ha--take any more,” he begged. Tears of agonized laughter ran down his cheeks. His arm muscles hurt where he had jerked them, trying desperately to get free.

The girls weren’t in any hurry to show mercy; they clearly were enjoying themselves, delighting in his agony and competing to see who could draw the most helpless laughter from his body. He continued to beg and plead for mercy. Wrong move. That only inflamed them more. These girls had a helpless male at their mercy, and they planned to take full advantage. And there wasn’t a single thing Bobby could do except go nuts.

“Nooooo! Please!” he cried, continuing his struggle against the merciless cuffs. Their wriggling fingers tickled his underarms, his stomach, his nipples. He writhed in helpless, uncontrollable laughter, squirming desperately to escape the tormenting sensations. “Ha-ha-aha-ha-ha! Oh-ha-ha-ha-stop, please ha-ha-stop, no, no-ha-aha-ha!” It was hard to breath; he felt himself gasping for lack of oxygen. They didn’t even notice; they were wrapped up in the torture.

His brain was completely short-circuited. Seconds passed by like hours in the agony of being a truly helpless tickle-victim. He had never imagined that; Sharon tickled him from time to time, but he could always get away. By now, he was completely hysterical, but his cock stayed hard as an iron bar.

The four cheerleaders continued to play Bobby’s helplessly strapped body like a piano. They tickled him all over--underarms, nipples, the inside of his thighs, his kneecaps, everywhere. The more he begged, the more they laughed with fiendish glee and redoubled their efforts.

The cheerleader who scratched his soles with her fingernails made him screech and scream with tormented agony. Susan drew designs in his armpits and made slow, tormenting circles around his rock-hard nipples. Every touch, every stroke turned a new area of his body into a ticklish zone until there wasn’t a square inch of non-ticklish flesh on his body. Tiffany alternated between gentle tickle and rough tickle, digging her fingers into his sensitive sides, making Bobby howl with laughter as she slid her devilish digits up and down his shackled body.

“Oh, ha-ha, I ca-can’t stand-ha-ha-any more!” Bobby howled. Meanwhile, the sandy-haired girl at his middle traced the contours of his legs and inner thighs, stopping for an agonizing eternity in the hollow of his knees. Bobby never imagined that such sensations could be drawn out of that part of his body. Slowly and tormentingly, she moved her tickling fingers higher up his thighs, tantalizingly avoiding his rigid, straining cock, then back down his inner thighs and calves, then up again. Throughout this, his cock was standing straight up, pulsing hotly, leaking drops of clear seminal fluid.

He was desperate for relief from the terrible tickling and his incredible frustration. Twisting and turning, he struggled to get free, but the shackles were relentless. He was just about to pass out when the four grinning sadists finally decided they’d had enough.

The girls were panting with their exertion; driving him insane with tickling torture took energy. “Let’s stop before he has a heart attack on us,” Susan chuckled.

Even then, as he started to calm down, panting like he’d just finished running a marathon, one of the girls would give him another tweak or tickle, sending him back into paroxysms.

Naked and helpless, Bobby’s heart pounded as I awaited their next move.

“We just came by to tell you to have him ready for the party tonight,” the sandy-haired girl said. “Looks like he may not survive, though,” she said, tweaking his side, making him jerk in helpless reflex.

Susan laughed. “If he has trouble with this part, he really will have trouble later. This is just a little warmup.” She planted a kiss on his lips; her teasing eyes focused on his. “Just a little warmup.”

He gulped; he could believe anything now.

The brunette at his feet came up. Her luscious body showed to great advantage in the scanty Valentine cheerleading outfit. She smiled. “Your girlfriend’s having a good time. Her initiation is beginning right now. You know she gave you to us as a toy, don’t you.”

Susan smiled. “I think he was beginning to figure that out, but we haven’t made it official yet. That’s right, Woody. You’re really going to be our mascot. Sharon’s initiation required that she give us a boy toy. She volunteered you. That’s okay with you, isn’t it? Tell us you like being our boy toy.”

He blushed yet again, revealing the truth even before he spoke. “Oh, god, yes...just don’t tickle me any more.”

“We’ll do anything we want, and you’ll like it,” Susan said, giving his right nipple a hard pinch. “Besides, I bet I can make you beg for us to tickle you again.”

“Oh, no...no...” he pleaded.

Susan grabbed his throbbing erection and began pumping it, slipping one finger over the leaking head to rub the seminal fluid over the entire shaft. She stimulated him quickly toward an orgasm, then slowed down.

“Would you like to come right now?” she asked.

Deliriously aroused, he looked into her teasing eyes, “Yes...yes...please...” He knew this was some sort of new tease, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to come so badly.

“Just beg for us to tickle you again, twice and long and twice as hard, and I’ll make you come. Okay?”

He was silent. Nothing was worth being tickled...except the way her hand continued stroking him, teasing him up to the edge, then backing off, up to the edge and backing off again...

“Yes! Yes! Tickle me twice as long and twice as hard! Just make me come! Please!”

She released him. “See? There are worse things than being tickled. And this is one.”
 
The Archer Cordell novels are erotic bdsm romance set in a near future where sexual slavery is legal. Here's a scene from the first book, THE CAPTURE OF ARCHER CORDELL.

In her sophomore year, a few of her sorority sisters banded together to buy a fraternity initiate as a weekend slave. She watched the auction, mouth dry with increasing passion as the boys were paraded out one at a time, wearing mere loincloths and the shackles of slave status. More than one had bulged out the loincloth with growing passion and arousal; it was as sexy for them as for her. She was too embarrassed to bid, but her sisters did and she gladly paid her share and they took a young victim from the stage, giggling and blushing with their own aroused embarrassment. Sabrina brushed her hand lightly over his loincloth, not quite believing her own action, and started with surprise as his cock gave a sudden lurch.

The girls paraded their acquisition through the dormitory, letting the other girls toy with their new pet, showing off their new possession. It was so much fun to tease, and the combination of blushing boy-toy and stiff erection was too much to resist. Giggling and clustering around, they mocked his helpless lust in cooing expressions of fake pity, commented on his equipment, and probed his helpless, shackled body with teasing fingers until he squirmed in near-ticklish agony. And then--to his utter horror and the girls’ delight--he let out the first stifled snort of restrained ticklish laughter, which prompted the girls to observe, “Are you ticklish, little slave boy?”

With the approval of the owners, the sorority girls dragged their tickle-victim into the TV room and pushed him to the floor to begin their attack. He screamed with terrified laughter as the kneeling girls attacked with wiggling fingers. “Cootchie-cootchie-koo,” one girl laughed, her red-painted fingernails digging into his sides. It took two girls to sit on his convulsing legs, holding his body down in spite of his desperate struggles. One girl took each helpless naked foot and began running fingers over the exposed sole, bringing new shrieks of ticklish laughter from their prisoner. Underarms and belly became the property of still more sorority girls until he was awash in pretty girl-flesh, buried in a sea of tickling fingers and girlish perfume.

Sabrina noticed that his cock, which had slipped out from under the loincloth, was hard and purple and glistening with the first drops of his desperate need. Although she was reluctant to join in the tickle-orgy, she was fascinated by her slaveboy’s screams of laughing agony and found herself growing wetter by the moment.
By the time his laughter had turned into breathless wheezes, the sorority sisters were finally ready to show at least a little mercy, and the purchasers were ready to drag their slave into their own room for more personal service. Sabrina enjoyed the sense of envy as she helped lead the slaveboy away.

She was a good girl, though she hadn’t been one hundred percent faithful to her boyfriend in the post-AIDS sexual re-liberation period. Nor, she suspected (but didn’t ask), had he been completely faithful to her. But she didn’t screw around. Now she was part owner of a nearly-naked slaveboy for a weekend, and she didn’t quite know what to do. Buying him was mostly a lark, but she felt an amazing level of arousal. She stood back at first, letting her two girlfriends have first crack at the slave.

They tied him spreadeagled to the bars of the brass bed with scarves, removed his loincloth, and one perched on each side beside him. They began to stroke him sensually, but his body had been so hypersensitized by the insane tickling that even their gentle touches reduced him to giggles. That induced them to tickle him again until he was nearly ready to wet himself, and that made them stop.

Sabrina was embarrassed to get undressed and have sex in front of her roommates, but no such inhibitions slowed them down. The two girls slithered out of their jeans and shirts and panties, smiling down at their victim as he stared at them with his towering need. He begged, “Please...don’t tease me any more. I’ll do anything.”

“Of course you will,” they cooed, and returned to teasing, kissing him, stroking him, toying with his leaking erection until he was shaking with desire. And then one girl straddled his face to urge his tongue to worship her wetness while the other began to nibble and tease at his penis, licking off the drops of fluid as they appeared one by one.

Sabrina couldn’t stand it any more. She sat down in a chair beside the bed to watch the scene, first sliding her hand up her sides, then cupping her breasts, then slowly sliding up her skirt to slip one hand into her panties. She was embarrassed but aroused, riveted to the sight of a naked, erect slaveboy licking his mistress’ pussy while his cruelly teased cock twitched under its slow, delicious torture.

And when she finished in a gasping orgasm, the other girl announced, “I need cock in me.”

“What about Sabrina?” asked the roommate who’d just finished riding her slave’s mouth.

“Don’t mind me,” said Sabrina, nearly gasping with her own desire, approaching her orgasm. With a shrug, the other girl straddled their bound victim and with one hand guided his cock into her; he moaned and arched his back as his deprived cock received its deliverance.

“Oh my god,” the girl moaned as the cock filled her. “I don’t think he’s going to last. Sabrina--help. Wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and squeeze. Just for a few minutes. Please.”

Sabrina blushed but her arousal was too high. She slid her hand between the fucking couple, touching intimate girlflesh for the first time in her life, wrapped her hand around the shaft and imprisoned it in clenched fingers as she felt the wet slaps of fucking on her hand, faster and faster. “Yes--yes--oh god yes--OH! OH! OH!” the girl moaned as she shuddered through a convulsive orgasm and flopped wetly onto her slave.

Finally she slid off the cock, leaving it full of come and glistening with her juices. “Okay, Sabrina,” she commanded. “Now it’s your turn. Finish him off any way you like.”

The boy looked at her with pleading eyes and her pussy was wet and needy and his cock was hers to do anything she liked with. But what was sexiest of all was the expression of desperate need and desire on his face. At that moment, he needed her more than anything in the world, needed what she could do for him. That erection belonged to her, to tease or to satisfy. He belonged to her. Focusing on his eyes, devouring him with her gaze, she slipped her hand back between her legs and took his twitching, hot, pulsing cock in her tight little fist and slowly stroked it, teasing it as she got closer and closer to her own climax. “Now--” she whispered. “Shoot for me.” And she stroked him as his eyes got big and his body tensed and her hand moved faster right up to the edge and “Oh my god!” she gasped as he surrendered the messy evidence of his passion and need in spurt after spurt into her hand, their eyes locked together as her own climax began and she pumped him until his belly was sticky with come and she was quivering with spent passion.

“Why didn’t you fuck him, or at least have him eat you?” her roommates asked later.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t feel like cheating with him, and it was so sexy having him all tied up and needy and helpless--I had a good time and I got exactly what I wanted.”

“Whatever,” she replied, not quite understanding. But her roommates had gotten what they wanted, a weekend of fucking and sucking. And Sabrina had what she wanted--a vivid image of a naked, helpless slave.
 
And from the sequel, THE TAMING OF ARCHER CORDELL.

“Sabrina—don’t leave me…” he whimpered, his arousal and his humiliation driving him insane.
She smiled, patted his cheek. “It’s just for a few hours, darling,” she said. “You’ll be safe here…unless some of your old girlfriends find you.” She left.

The cocktail waitress looked around. There was no one in the room. “You’re Archer Cordell, aren’t you?” she whispered. “I heard about what happened to you.”

“Yes—” he said, and then gasped as her hand slid under his loincloth.

“I’ve never sucked a billionaire’s cock,” she said, teasing him.

“Oh god—” he moaned, rocking his hips back and forth. She knelt down to suck him; the sensation was overpowering. “Yes—yes—please—” he begged. She reached one hand to cup his balls and pushed a finger into his ass. His moans increased as her mouth worked his cock faster and faster.

But finally she stopped. “I’ve never met a man who could keep from coming when I did that,” she said, puzzled and slightly annoyed.

“O-orgasm controller,” he groaned. “I can’t.”

“Oh.” She was first disappointed, then amused. “Oh dear. That must have been really uncomfortable for you. And I thought I was doing you a favor. Oh, well. Sorry to leave you like this, though.” As she left, her rear twitching in her flouncy skirt, he thought he heard a giggle.

Sabrina circulated through the party, finding herself the center of all sorts of attention, from women wondering who had finally trapped Archer Cordell, to men who seemed interested in finding themselves in the same position. It was amusing for her to be thought of as such a dominatrix—it’s true, though, in a way, she thought. But she didn’t want a male harem, just a single male, and as more than just a slave. Still, it was always fun to flirt.

She thought of Archer all shackled, helpless, and aroused, and looked around through the crowd to find Cassia. She went over and whispered in her ear. Cassia giggled. “I know several girls here who would love to have a chance to use him a little bit. Don’t worry. Together we’ll make this the worst night of his life…or the best, depending on what he’s into these days.”

She imagined Archer being teased in his helpless bondage, and the thought aroused her so much she wanted to go somewhere and masturbate, or pick one of the men at the party—there were several good-looking candidates—and drag him off to a spare bedroom to use him to satisfy her desires. Her arousal radiated through the room, and she found herself attracting men like a flame attracts moths. The image amused her. If they weren’t careful, they might get burned. Like Archer.

She met people she needed to meet, touched base with those whose good will she needed, arranged a few meetings and telephone calls, traded business cards, fended off eager swains. It was a good party; she felt back in her element. It was energizing, it was fun. She nearly forgot about her helpless slave, his pleasure chip running nonstop, his orgasm controller constricting his pent-up need. When she remembered, she laughed to herself. It had been a very long evening for him.

She went back to the other room to find him. She could hear his hysterical laughter and pleading even through the heavy oaken door. As she expected, Archer was being well entertained. Four women were clustered around his shackled form busily tickling him into utter hysteria. By the hoarseness of his voice and the sweat on his body, Sabrina realized that this had been going on for a very long time.

Two girls sat on the floor. They had shackled Archer’s feet to chains in the floor and were tickling him behind the knees and in his inner thighs; all his shaking and movement wasn’t enough to escape their wiggling fingers. Cassia was tugging on his nipple rings and tickling his belly while another girl stood behind him, tickling his underarms and ribs. His cock was untouched, bobbing furiously as his body twitched helplessly under the agonizing attack. The girls looked up as Sabrina came in.

“Go ahead, don’t mind me,” she said gaily, and sat down to watch, enjoying the look of hysterical pleading desperation on Archer’s face. She noticed paddles and switches laying on the floor; she glanced around and noticed Archer’s ass and upper thighs were striped and red. They’d whipped him before beginning the tickling.
 
I can highly recommend these books. I bought all of them back in the 1990's. :D
 
Finally got both the archer cordell books again, had them when they first came out then lost them during my house move a few years ago and i have been trying to get them ever since. got them both on my kindle today.
 
Finally got both the archer cordell books again, had them when they first came out then lost them during my house move a few years ago and i have been trying to get them ever since. got them both on my kindle today.

Slavepat,

Thanks for enjoying them enough to want to get them again. I have an idea for a third volume, but don't know when (or if) I'll get it written. So many fantasies, so little time...

Cheers,

Robin
 
I am a big fan of all of your work, and I too bought the Tabitha books when they were first published. I would love to read more of your work, and would really love if you would throw in an occasional m/m scene!
 
Brody27,

Thanks very much for your kind words. There are some casual m/m moments in the Archer Cordell books, but not many. I don't have any problems with m/m; I very much enjoy ttgore's work among others, but my fantasies generally don't run in that direction. I haven't written erotica in years, but if I do in the future, I'll keep it in mind and see if some m/m stuff can find its way into the story.

Cheers,

Robin
 
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