Chapter Sixteen
Working a plugged Big Fella is interesting. The large cone of rubber, custom milled to pressure his prostate gland, stuffs Big Fella’s backside to the point where his normally smooth gait is comically stuttered. Yes, running is indeed not possible, for every few steps my intrepid steed pauses and wriggles his buttocks in a most curious fashion, evidently attempting to shift the position of the well placed implement so that it does not overly squeeze his male gland.
I have decided to visit the medical building again which is a relatively short walk. And having had my fill of the whip, observing Big Fella walk himself into an unbearable state of arousal is a most suitable alternative form of amusement.
Our journey includes a brief segment on the main road then a turn to th
