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The wheelchair was on its back, not far from where I had been sitting. I, though, was at least five feet away from the chair.Jessica was on her knees. Her hands wiped my tears from my face. She looked at me with great concern."What happened?"I just looked into her eyes, not knowing how to say it.She then asked, "You were overwhelmed, weren't you?"Almost imperceivably, I nodded."What was your..." she said and stopped, searching for the word, "trigger?"I knew it was Ken that had given her that word. I didn't want to say it, for telling would make her feel awful. A lump in my throat formed, making almost any word not want to come out."Do you remember," my father said, "what the agent said at the base? You would feel things that you would need help with."I did remember what he had said. I hadn't believed that something like that would happen to me, at the time. There was no armored car. No gunshots. My eyes scanned the 'crowd' that had gathered around me. Their faces showed nothing but. The spikes were dull, and wouldn't cut the skin, but they would beat into it with the force of the strokes of the machine, horribly bruising the slave's delicate, lower lips.The dildo was quite long. Just over ten inches, a length that the slave could take only if she were very aroused and willing to have her sensitive cervix hammered by the intruder. She was aroused now, but her tunnel had yet to expand enough to accommodate the dildo. Under the best of circumstances, it only just barely fit inside her, and never without considerable pain. It didn't matter -- Mistress would turn the machine on, and the dildo would force its way into her body, eventually deep enough to hurt the sensitive mouth to her womb, causing an ache that would last for days. It was wide enough that her tunnel could barely accommodate it. None of that mattered though. Eventually -- to her shame -- she knew the pain would arouse her enough that the base of the dildo would slam into her body as she was ruthlessly.
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