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Master looked surprised if a deadman can look surprised. He’s looking at me again. I look down and see my tits are exposed and there are scratch marks all over them. Huh, doesn't hurt. I cant help myself. I lean down and kiss his mouth very quickly. He snaps at my face. I say “No master its Molly. Molly, Molly.” I lean over him still holding his hands and allow my tits to fall in his face. He snaps again and I say, “No,” he growls and seems to open his mouth slower so I rub my nipple near his mouth. He licks at it, so I let him have a little more. He’s licking and Im getting wetter and I moan. The sound startles him I think because he growls and somehow I have lost hold oh his hands and he grabs me fast. He has a grip on my forearms. I say “Please Master….” He stops growling and sits up. We are kind of tangled and I slide back and oh shit he’s on me and his mouth is on my neck. Licking but I feel his teeth too. I push him up off me and say “Master its Molly” and. Philip, stepped forward once more, and undid the belt of the skirt, allowing the item to fall round her feet, like opening the curtains of a stage, revealing the lower part of her body, the garter belt, the stockings and the tiny lace knickers with poking through the lace covering, the patch of rich brown pubic hair, hiding the inevitably wet, slot, that camels toe of her body, that she could tell the boy was oh so eager to see. Philip smiled the turning gave young Cyril the shears and said, “your turn.” He was up on his feet in a bound, a smile on his face like a Cheshire cat, in his eagerness the blade of the shears striking cold as it ran hard against her left leg, scratching their way up to the top of the garter belt. His handy-work was not as accomplished as Philip, the cutter`s jaws closed too slowly and wore its way rather than cut, slowly and uncomfortably through the materiel, before triumphantly chomping its way through. He was quick to repeat the action on the other.
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