We have a strange house... it doesn’t face the way it should. Well not as far as the contractors for the postal service are concerned. Each time their contracts are up we have to train another one that just because our post box is on one street, doesn’t mean our entrances are. In fact thrusting them through the gate on the post box side only delivers them into a rose garden... you would think the scratches from the thorns would be a giveaway wouldn’t you?
The trouble is that when you have trained them they then diligently deliver stuff to your door, and sometimes they are things that might be best left in the rose garden. None of this receiving reluctance is improved by the fact that He can find nasty things from all over the world... and often does. They never ban the things they could ban oh no... They ban things like the vinegar one loves and can’t get in this godforsaken place (the stuff here is too weak to crawl to the edge of the bottle). They seem only too happy to let in nasty arse toys and implements of torture.
The new speculum arrived the other day and He was just quivering to try it out. So yesterday, as one lay on the bed, aroused, wet and very compliant He produced it from nowhere and slid it in. Cranking it open with a speed that made one gasp, He peered at it from all angles and then grabbed a camera. The damn thing wouldn’t focus due to lack of light as the curtains were closed.
Close your eyes He said, as he flicked on the bright halogens that make up some of the bedrooms light sources. It is very hard to stay focused on sexual thoughts with bright lights shining on you and someone shoving a camera where it doesn’t belong. As the arousal levels dropped one became aware that the speculum hurt like a bitch. It was a protest that fell on deaf ears.
Roll over He said cheerfully. As one started to comply the speculum bit back and one uttered a shriek of pain and screamed get it out. Note to self do not roll over with that in you and cranked open. It opens a different way from the other one as you can see here and it renders you immobilised on fear of pain... lots of it.
Afterwards, when He had finished coming in ones arse, He slipped the butt plug back in and as the arousal levels dropped one realised how sore it was. It felt like someone had kicked the damn thing. Every time one rolled over in search of a new sleep position, the butt plug nudged against the walls of the vagina and you could feel the bruising. Mutters still don’t believe women have children by choice...
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