Now, bound, Miaren's vitality can only fixate on what is inflicted on it: The slide of the finger.  The final lift of it as it smooths open the channel of her bottom, holding the clasp of her anus up to make it shiver with yielding vulnerability.  The acute touch of the leather cone's tip, settling on the hot seethe of that ring's underside.  The nestling of it into place.<br/><br/>And then, in a fluid motion that catches Miaren's breath and pulls it as it does her thrilling muscle, the slide of the cone into her body.  Width flushes into her senses, as nerves strain into trembling circlets around a shape that offers no comfort but for its frictionless surface.  Width goes on and on, stretching her - dilating Miaren's bottom to surrender, to the shaking places beyond, to the flashes of feeling that flock like crazed stars beyond, and then to the sear of sheer, raw openness.<br/><br/>Fern watches it all - the motion of the attendants, cool as wind, feeding the vast plug into flesh just inches from her fingers' tingling brush.  She watches Miaren's bottom gape and shudder, watches the black plug conquer its small shape.<br/><br/>Then the plug's flare passes.  Miaren's hole grabs its leaner root.  Her anus swallows the huge plug hard.<br/><br/>The bulging beads next on the inserted stalk seem tiny in comparison.  They do not feel tiny.  The first begins to be screwed in, entering slowly.  And Adamion, still rinsing Fern's back and rump and sex with his touch, acclimating her nerves to its warm brush and to their fresh vulnerability, adds his deep tones to the moment's keening tension.<br/><br/><strong>"Good.  Tell her to accept.  Touch her to please her body.  Touch where it feels best."  </strong>Adamion's voice is inevitability, it is firmer than iron, deeper than his touches.<strong>"She needs it.  Touch inside."</strong>