The gardener led me through the quiet corridors on the short leash, my bare feet silent on the polished floors. The thick cucumber shifted inside me with every step, a rigid, unyielding pressure that kept my pussy stretched and aware. My wrists remained loosely bound behind my back with the kitchen towel. Oil still gleamed on my breasts and inner thighs. The scent of it mixed with my own arousal until I could smell myself with every breath.

He stopped me outside a heavy wooden door and knocked once.