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She could see me checking it out and wondering exactly what it was. It had a tiled floor, all sides of which sloped gently towards the drain hole in the middle.“Big,” I said.“It’s called a wet room,” she explained. “They’re big in Scandinavia, I believe.” I looked at her for guidance and she came to me and kissed me sensuously.“Lie down there,” she said. When I spent a second thinking about it she added, “Don’t you trust me?”“On my back?” I asked, and she smiled down at me. Her comfortable, rather roly-poly little body was an odd vessel to contain the wonderfulness of her mind and her personality. Her pubic hair billowed, announcing the imminence of hidden treasure.I lay on my back and watched with fascination as she stood over me and steadily crouched down as she had before on the bed until her bits were right above my face, but just out of reach of my tongue.“Ready?” she asked in a strangely nervous tone. I grunted ambiguously. And a trickle of urine fell from her crotch onto my. “Corner time for the next twenty minutes. I want you flat on the floor facing the corner. Crawl over there and do not let that plug fall out,” he said. I crawled to my corner, the chain finally becoming taut as I reached it. I sat down slowly, as instructed, and gasped as the plug entered me even more deeply. I sat flush with the floor. The plug had already been inside me for longer than I was used to and I longed for Master’s cock to replace the lifeless substitute. He stood above me and told me to stand and spread my legs. He knelt behind me and attached the spreader bar to my legs. I had to stretch further and I clenched the plug. He stood up and pushed the small of my back, so I was hinged forward, the plug grotesquely sticking in my ass. He placed my hands on the wall in front of me and began tugging at the plug. I released my hold on it and felt him pull it out with exquisite slowness, so that each bump in the opening, he pressed to fingers inside me and pinched the asshole.
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