Close Harmony (Food Of Love 3)

She wanted it really. If she was serious, she only had to say her safe word—Paganini. But she liked to put on a show of reluctance. It made everything so much more piquant.

She almost changed her mind, though, when von Ritter started applying lubricant around the tight ring between her exposed bottom cheeks. Trying to hold her vaginal muscles around the ben wa balls while he poked and rubbed around her little pucker was quite a challenge. She felt that, somewhere along the line, she was going to get mixed up with which bits to tense and which bits to loosen.

“Now, hold very still,” he said, his voice low and hypnotic. “We know that little sluts like you need to have their bottoms stuffed, don’t we? They enjoy bending over and accepting anything up inside their tight back passage. You’re no exception, are you, Lydia? You like to take it up the ass.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I do.”

She couldn’t work out how to relax her sphincter whilst clinging to the vaginal balls. It was too difficult. So when the tip of the plug nudged up against her, she flinched and tried to wriggle away.

But von Ritter had a hand on her hip and he kept her in position, pushing inexorably until the plug was one inch in, then two.

She tried to keep quiet, knowing that people outside the booth would be able to hear them, but the effort defeated her and, by the time the third inch of the plug had entered her, its widest part stinging and stretching, she let out a desperate moan.

“Oh oh oh.”

“What’s the matter?” Von Ritter sounded amused.

“I can’t, I can’t. The balls.”

“You can. This is exactly what you need, little slut. Don’t try to deny it.”

“I can’t,” she repeated, but he pushed the plug in to the hilt and patted it, adding two sound smacks to each bottom cheek for good measure.

These, she was sure, would have been heard all around the shop, especially judging by the low chuckles audible beyond the curtain.

“Now then, you are full. Pull up your panties.”

Lydia stood straight and pulled them up tight, relieved to have this thin barrier against the possible disastrous loss of the balls. She still had to keep herself clenched and alert, though, and it would be impossible to forget that she was occupied this way.

Von Ritter paused to kiss her, settling her skirt back down as he did so, then he pulled aside the curtain as if preparing the way for a great actress en route to her stage.

She shrank back, dreading the knowing looks that would surround her, but von Ritter reached out and grasped her wrist, making her stumble out into the shop.

Her cunt and bottom were clenc

hed tight against their intruders, so as not to lose them, and it made her walk a little awkwardly. She stared at the floor and beat as quick a path to the door as she possibly could.

“No returns on those, I’m afraid,” called the salesman, amid general laughter.

Outside on the pavement, von Ritter took her arm and helped her along while she trotted alongside him in a curious, thighs-clamped, tippy-toe kind of dash.

“How does it feel?” he asked, heading towards the nearest Tube station.

“Very awkward,” she griped, still envisaging a terrible accident involving the balls sliding out of her knicker elastic and rolling into the road while the crowds looked on.

“That’s good,” he said. “Keep grinding against them. I want you to feel the size and shape of them inside you.”

Lydia wanted to ask when he was going to let her feel a cock shape inside her—his cock. But that would just lead to the same conversation. ‘When I’m ready’.

She felt the size and shape of them all the way down the escalator into the hot enclosure of the Tube station. Dry winds rushed from the tunnel and threatened to lift her skirt, but she kept her hands on the material, dreading that the little flange of the butt plug would be visible through her knickers.

Von Ritter, seeing what she was doing, put a hand on her bottom and pressed, discreetly but devastatingly, against the plug. He rubbed slowly and rhythmically until the train arrived and she had to sit down on the damn thing.

“Where are we going now?” she whispered, shifting uncomfortably on the seat and keeping her legs tightly crossed.

They didn’t seem to be heading towards Karl-Heinz’s apartment.

“You’ll see,” he said.