Alexander
The training shifted the morning after the largest plug.
Plugs had stretched her. Now I would open her for my fist.
I began the dedicated sessions that same evening in the office after the floor had emptied. I locked the door, ordered her to bend over my desk, and laid out the thick graduated dilators beside a bottle of generous lube. The largest plug she had worn all day came out slowly; her hole stayed open for a moment before fluttering closed, shiny with the slick I had used that morning.
“Stay still,” I told her. “Breathe through it. You do not move unless I say. Hands flat on the wood. Legs wider.”
She spread them. I coated the first dilator heavily—thicker than the final plug—and pressed the blunt tip against her. The widest point forced her open with steady pressure.
