Charlotte
Behind me, hands are peeling apart my butt cheeks, opening me. Something chilly presses at my rear entrance.
Leaning over me, close by my face, my Master speaks, his voice hissing, the hardness of his groin pressing to my hip. "I think we'll explore all the options on this occasion, shall we."
Something cool and fluid splashes at me, trickling between my buttocks. Fingers probe, then rub, lubricating delicate skin. Briefly, a chill finger enters me, then withdraws.
My Master's arm swivels at the shoulder, flexes at the wrist, and inexorably, something pushes at me to the rear. "On our last occasion downstairs," he says, "I thought Richard's gift rather suited you. I've never really favoured butt-plugs as jewellery, but perhaps I was mistaken."
The plug twists behind me, pre
