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held it with one hand and pulled gently but
insistently on my hair with the other.
"Open your mouth," he said, "all the way."
I tried to say `It is open,' but it just came out a garbled
burble and the thing slipped in a little more. I couldn't shake him
loose or force it out with my tongue, and he couldn't get it in any
further unless I opened my mouth more. We remained at this impasse for
a moment more, until I foolishly tried to say something else around
the object and he forced it in a little more. Finally, still smiling
to myself, I capitulated and relaxed my jaw as much as I could. I
decided to go along with it and make the effort not to laugh. He
compressed the object with his fingers and pushed--gently, but enough.
It went in. It felt huge. Suddenly it wasn't such an effort to stop
laughing. I couldn't even smile. Or even move my lips enough to make
it look like I would have smiled if I could have. I had never seen--or
even heard of--a ball-gag.
He took his hand away and it stayed in my mouth. I co
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