With a twinkle in her eye, Mrs. Jones frowned at her husband of thirty-three years, ‘Oh, is there something you wanted to add, Donald?’ Pulling hi...self together, Mr. Jones turned and looked at his wife with mock seriousness, ‘Nothing, Donna dear, just had some coffee go down the wrong pipe.’ Snorting in disbelief, Donna turned her back on her husband and resumed her interrogation. ‘So, Daisy, I’m waiting.’ ‘Well…’ Daisy began, anxious and trying to think up something that would appease her. He knew that Amy was watching from the garage after pulling Vanessa’s car in and locking down the building. Vanessa had another screaming orgasm and slammed down on what had become the torture devices lodged inside her. She had to keep going, had to please her husband and lover. She wanted him to take her any way he would, all she wanted was his touch. Anything, even a paddle, as long as he was the one wielding it, was what she craved. ‘Mark, baby, please look at me.’ She saw him with his head. More

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