Crying. Keening. Groaning. Cramping. I did not have a lot of choices going for myself. Not myself but Master's pet, not me. Not me. Not me... Not anymore. Master keeps saying that the person I once was is no longer and I must get over it and start referring to myself as His pet or doll or play toy. Even if I am thinking to myself. It is hard for me, see, slipped again. It is hard for Master's pet to think in this way. Who does? Or would want to do such a thing? But if I needed to survive I, damn, Master's toy will keep trying to be the thing/ object Master desires.
Master's pet felt a thrust again in the ass. Something, not human, but made of metal or glass, perhaps, as it was cold when it was thrust into the greased up the orifice. A long thick plug pushed into the inside of the body a
