”Watching, Emma sees Donald smiling at her slightly and caressed her face a little and hears him tell her she was a good girl, and he could tell she...would learn quickly. Remembering how he smiled at her that first time does send a wave a pleasure through Emma’s body as she relives that evening.Donald stands and goes to the dresser and returns with a wand-type thing – maybe eight to ten inches long, a slim shaft, but a shining silver head about an inch by an inch and a half. Seeing all this. " It's blonde," I repeated. "I hate blonde."He sighed, looking at the green bottle in my hand. "What color do youwant?" Reddish. More toward auburn."The lock of hair turned dark red. "Better?" he asked, looking down at me.I frowned. "No. There's still work to do." What!" he screeched. "What else could you possibly not like?" These," I hefted my breast. "These are monstrosities. They're punchingbags. Make them smaller."He stared dumbfounded at me. "That ... that doesn't make sense. All guyslike. More

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