He pushed again, and the resistance gave way with a soft, internal pop. The plug seated itself fully, and the sudden, complete fullness punched a raw, broken sound from my throat. It was in. I was filled. The cold was deep inside me now, a core of winter in my belly, taking space in that place that had been unoccupied for a long time. My cock throbbed, painfully hard as it caused a slick mess against my stomach. The need to climax was so strong but I had to fight it. I had to, just so Master wouldn't punish me.Instead of moving it, helping me through my orgasm, Master stepped back and surveyed his work. His eyes traveled from the clamps on my chest, down to the gel shining in my navel, to where the steel handle of the plug jutted from between my ass cheeks, nestled against the frame. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It wasn't warmth. It was satisfaction. The look of an artist appraising his panting. “You're a work of art," he said, proving my assumption right.
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