Yet my fingers have never had a problem exploring the inner recesses in its totality. My therapist has called my name but... ... I am off in my own world as I part the lower lips of my body to touch ever so gently and stroke with little flicks of my finger to access that teeny button of ultimate joy; make contact with the most sensitive part of me physical being - my clit. My longest finger probes inside of me as it grazes and brushes the tiny bump sheltered. Instead I felt the weight of someone on the bed behind me, and my hair being brushed aside, followed by a collar being slipped around my neck. It was large, weighty, and was fastened tightly which is when I really started to panic. I mumbled and moaned in to my gag, but it was hopeless. "That just about completes the look" Matt's voice finally breaking the silence somewhere in front of me, but then I heard the bedroom door open, and close again. I couldn't hear anyone, and obviously couldn't. More

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