”“Pet?” the word hangs hollow.I wonder how fast you can run. No, that’s not going to work, the dog would catch us easily. Do you think it can ...swim?“I don’t think that will be possible,” Penelope says, trying to sound sure of her words.“Why not?” he asks.“Because I’m a witch,” she answers. “Witches cannot be owned nor controlled. It is against the law of the land. Even kings have to obey it.”“AH, you are well versed, miss,” Clyx concedes.Yes, even I’m impressed. You must not have missed many of. "Can we talk?" If all you want is talk, then yes. I can't manage any more sex today, so we're both safe on that one. I've just finished talking to my wife, and I'm feeling lonely. If you promise to be civilised, yes. Come in."She sat down. "You're very close to your wife, aren't you?" Yes. Best friends - we always have been. And now that the sex thing has been sorted out, the marriage has gone from pretty good to bloody amazing." She writes those papers that everyone's talking about, doesn't. I’d been coming for these private reviews all term now. I couldn’t remember having ever spoken since the first one. I didn’t need to knock. Blankenship ran by a clock in his head. If my appointment was at five-thirty, I was simply expected to enter at exactly that time and listen until he dismissed me.I set my drawing on his review easel and sat across from him to listen to his scathing critique again.He sat at his desk with his arms folded and looked at the drawing. He pursed his lips as his. I closed my eyes and tilted my head, as I sensually kissed Boston for ages, in the quiet of the car. For the rest of the evening I contentedly let him finger my arsehole through my tights and panties.2.A couple of evenings later, in my bedroom, Boston was bent over, facing the mirror in the tightest glossiest tights covering his legs and chest. The glisten of his sweat oozed through his skin tight shiny pewter mask, as he slowly panted. I made his fat arse wobble as I plunged my strapon up him..