It was too late, the damage was done.“Somehow, I don’t think that‘s your pussy juice on your fingers. Tell me I‘m wrong!” exclaimed Mike.Mag...ie stared at him and said nothing.“Have you been fingering our daughter?” he questioned.Again Maggie said nothing, and then in an afterthought, she blurted out, “Mike- listen-”“Tell me I‘m wrong,” he raised his voice at her. It was a forceful and demanding tone. Maggie never saw the wry smile slowly appear on his face. Her head faced downwards.“I can‘t-”. ..she pulls the toy from her pussy and tosses it on the ground in front of me telling me to clean it up.I bend forward, my ass in the air as she climbs down from her throne again. I reach for the still buzzing toy with my mouth knowing I am never allowed to touch Mistresses toys with my hands. I lick along the wet shaft, tasting her again, twisting the toy into my mouth and using the floor to slide my mouth up and down the length.With the toy in my mouth I am unaware what Mistress Chelsea has. It was a far cry from the situation they encountered only a week ago. The women took the time to brush the hair and comment on the zombies’ dress. They might be deceased, but they still appreciated knowing they looked good. After having spent years without a mirror, even the undead feel self-conscious.The three men were more taken aback, used to taking the proceedings with a degree of resigned paranoia. To get the men to relax, the women wrote notes bearing puns and had individual zombies. We were just about ready to start our workout when Eva walked out. She asked if she could join us and ran back to change clothes. She was sore and tired maybe even exhausted when she finished but she was smiling. She needed something to take out her aggression on and she didn’t leave anything behind. She just watched our self-defense class.After breakfast, I had an exam and left her there with the few that didn’t have class. When I came home Mark was there and had a pad of paper with notes and.