“That’s good,” said Mrs Bradshaw. “We’ll keep that on till tomorrow, then try a larger size.”
A larger size? You’ve got to be joking, Emma thought, the blood rushing from her head, and her knees going weak. But she said nothing. The last thing she wanted was another beating with this thing stuck up her ass.
“Put your skirt back on,” Mrs Bradshaw ordered.
When Emma was dressed Mrs Bradshaw ordered her to take the chair again by her desk. Emma sat down carefully. It was worse in a seated position; the thing seemed to go in still further. Emma could feel it stretching her. If it was necessary for Master’s pleasure she would endure it. But it didn’t make her feel s****l, just ill at ease. And objectified, she thought. She knew it was a common tactic when training subs. She’d read about it:
