Beth Wilson walked down the path from the old farmhouse, where she lived with her family, to the river that flowed through the woods. Beth was thirty nine years old, willowy with long legs and soft brown hair. She had a pretty, classical face with a sharp nose and a dazzling smile. Even after three
Anne learned about her mother’s desire to be submissive by reading her dairy underneath her mattress. Her own mother wanted to be another’s bitch slave. All these years, she had never known. She was even mentioned in several parts of her dominating her as well as neighbor woman who lived nearby. Both were now divorce