“This will pinch,” he warned, and I fought to breathe as his finger pressed deeper. His expression was avid, awed—gleeful—as he watched his thick finger penetrate me. Taking something that shouldn’t matter, that didn’t matter—and yet also did, because we’d decided together that it meant something. That it was his to have, even if it didn’t change anything about what came next. And then the pain, a sharp, low agony that had me panting and squirming.
