Page 81 of Kingmakers, Year Three

Dean’s finger is all the way in my ass now. It’s so intense that I can hardly stand it. It seemed to take ten minutes to push it in, and ten minutes to pull it out again.

Finally, my ass can relax again, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed to look at him.

I hear Dean moving behind me. I hope that was the end of it.

Instead, I feel something else pressed up against my anus. Something bigger, and colder.

“Dean!” I squeal in protest.

“Quiet,” he growls.

He pushes the plug against my ass. It’s too big to go in, despite the fact that he’s lubricated it.

“Relax,” he orders.

Immediately, without conscious thought, I obey him. My ass relaxes enough for him to begin to push the plug inside.

If I thought his finger was intense, it was nothing compared to this. The plug feels the size of a fist. I’m impaled.

“It’s too big!” I squeal.

Dean gives a low laugh. “It’s tiny,” he says.

Dean never lies, and yet I can’t believe that. Every nerve in that highly sensitive area is screaming from this unprecedented friction.

Dean reaches down with his other hand to rub my clit while he pushes the plug inside.

The pleasure of his touch helps so much. As I’ve already learned, sexual pleasure can override an immense amount of discomfort.

The sexual sensation seems to confuse my brain, convincing it that not only are Dean’s fingers on my clit pleasurable, but also the plug itself. It seems to re-write the neuron response.

The plug stretches and stretches me, until all of a sudden it sets in place as if it were made for me.

I sigh with relief.

“How does that feel?” Dean asks.

I consider. The plug gives me an acute sense of fullness and pressure. But there isn’t any pain—it fits perfectly.

“It’s . . . strange,” I say.

“Good,” Dean growls. “Now climb on my cock.”

“Right now?” I squeak. “With this?”

“That’s right,” he says. “This is for me, not you. I want to feel it while you ride me.”

Dean lays back against the cushions, his cock jutting upward, expecting me to climb on.

Swallowing hard, I shift positions.

Every tiny movement makes the plug move inside of me, reigniting the nerves, reminding me of its existence.

It’s a little uncomfortable.

But also . . . it feels good in a way I’ve never felt before. An entirely new sensation.

I straddle Dean, worried that the plug might fall out.

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