"You masturbated without permission," she repeated quietly as sheflicked his nipples. "Is that all? You didn't do anything else?" Um. . . I tried on... some of Ms. Anderson's panties, Mistress Tate." Some of them? Do you remember how many?" Flick, flick. He frowned, replaying in his mind how he had frolicked in them. "Sevenor eight pairs, Mistress Tate." "Seven or eight? Which is it? Think carefully now, Cecilia." "I don't remember exactly, Mistress Tate. There were so many." "Heather and I. She hates all men without exception. She’s also a closet dyke who sends love letters to those charming women on death row but has nothing but contempt for her husband and her son. I stay the hell away from her because I don’t want to end up dead…or worse. Let’s just say when that woman has a sharp object in her hand, any male in the vicinity should be nervous. You know what I mean. My sister Hannah Shay is also violent sociopath. She terrorizes her husband Ray Thaddeus and his daughter Nina.. My little student struggles mightily, but keeps up with the lesson. Doing her best to finish the painful part of the lesson, her writhing hands, scratching and clawing to blindly clasp for anything in the backseat, manages to grip the seat belt. She pulls it in to her screeching mouth, her teeth biting down into the strip until the edges began to fray. It does little to muffle her full blown anal orgasms or alleviate her pain, but as far as I am concerned, she is getting extra credit for it. The men could not take their eyes off her when she was in tight jeans. They all had the hots for her from the very first day her husband Hutch introduced her to his new friends. Hutch knew he had a trophy wife and was keenly aware of the sexuality she exuded. Their marriage, however, was almost done for when his government job posted him to Germany. Marsha could not pass up the opportunity to live in Europe for a couple of years. They agreed to stay married and enjoy the overseas tour together.