" I should be. Can Terry come over and play?" Keep your hands off my sissy, Cruella," I said."Poor Terry," M.J. said. "She's going to end up with a p...ussy for amistress."*I read the stories. M.J. was right. The dommes in these stories wereheartless. They didn't have much regard for their spouses, and whateverthey did have disappeared quickly. They stole, they cheated, theypunished. They beat their sissies.Were there women really like this? I'm sure some were; meanness is apart of the human. You have been grounded, your privileges taken away, we’ve had agreements, which have been very fair on your part, that you’ve still defied. And you continue to dishonor and disrespect me.”He tapped the desk with a long slender finger, like he was trying to figure something out, an equation that would make it all fall into place.“I think I’ve reached the end in trying to help you. Maybe boarding school would be the best option.”Astrid’s head whipped up and her voice came out far too loud, even. She closed her eyes and could see his face, his dark hair, long and wavy, and his soul-piercing eyes, the color of dark chocolate. If she concentrated hard enough, she could feel his fingertips touching her skin, smell the scent of his cologne, and hear the sound of his voice, rich and deep. She ached for him with every fiber of her being.“Stay with me, darling,” he’d said, “and we can be together forever.” Oh, how she wished she’d had the courage to say yes! How could she have known that he. "But, you can see your panty-line, that's sure a distraction." I know, but with pantihose it would smooth it out." I hate pantihose," Scott reminded her. "Go slip your panties off. Please, for me," he said.When she came out of the dressing room, she looked beautiful as she walked toward him smiling. "How's this?" she asked as she twirled around, smiled, then posed in front of him with her hands on her hips."Perfect, let's get some shoes to match."When they left the mall two hours later, they.