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the fourth morning, thank god he didn’t fuck me again like that in the kitchen. the fourth night though, jesus, yes i’m looking forward to it but this time it wasn’t the nice little jeweled butt plug, it was a heftyish medium one, and he pushed it in and i started crying, i just couldn’t help it. shaking and crying like a little waif. needless to say my husband takes no pity on his wife like that. he was nice, don’t get me wrong. he stroked, and petted, and shushed, and kissed. and then he pulled it out carefully, and pushed it back in, and pulled it out, and just when it was stretching me to the max, he pushed it back in, and needless to say i just kept crying, and he kept kissing and shushing. he pulled it out again. for good. and i kept crying, just this silly hysterical sobbing, not grief or sorrow, just that hyperventilating mixed with quite a bit of pain.

“present, babygirl.” somehow i fucking dragged myself into position, ass in the air, knees spread, ankles crossed, face on the mattress, hands clasped on the back of my head. he got into position, and carefully, slowly, pushed his cock into my sore sore tender ass. “shush, sweetheart, i know it hurts but crying won’t change this.” he put his thumb into my mouth and held my mouth closed. began fucking me. not mean. not cruel and rough. just methodical and calm and deep and thorough and i sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

and what the fuck is wrong with me it started to feel good, and it was so painful and yet the stretch wasn’t as bad and it felt good and i began sucking on his thumb running my tongue up and down it and licking urgently and he was pleased and he began really fucking my ass and i pushed against him and wanted more and he gave me more and last night when he pushed that medium butt plug inside me at the end and buckled on the chastity belt i made sure to say “thank you master”.