..this BITCH is going to be opened up...’Then there were hands on my shoulders, pushing my head down onto a cushion, that was not there before then ... felt the hands hold me tightly in this position, as extra force was pushed on my reluctant hole....my cry muffled by the ball-gag and cushion as my arse was forced to accept the strap-on that had chocked me. Once passing the initial resistance the strap-on slid deeper in to me, in my prone and held position, stretching and filling me like never. We never touched each other - even in an innocent way. And we never spoke of anything intimate outside the locked sanctuary of our home.These strict rules that we both agreed too, forced us to live like hermits. We stayed in the house unless our lives forced otherwise - work and school for the most part. Oh we kept appearances, me with my sports and mom with her clubs.Mom became distant with her friends - many of whom had deserted her when my father left us for another woman. She balanced this. More

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