Butt Plug Girl Returns
He was home. I was lying on the bed upstairs, reading on my nook. He was greeted by the kids and the dogs and soon I heard his footsteps on the steps and then our bedroom door was opening. I was happy to see him, but I was also longing for something. I wanted to feel owned. I wanted to feel his dominance. He was tired. I could see it in his face, his eyes. He came over and lay next to me, embracing me, kissing me. We talked a little and then I started pushing, literally pushing. He pulled me close and held me tight and told me to stop, but I tried to escape. He’s a lot bigger and stronger than I am, but I can be a pretty good escape artist at times. He told me again to stop and said that was enough. I’d stop for a moment each time he said something, but then I’d start trying to escape again. A threat was made. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but the gist of it was that I wasn’t going to be happy if I didn’t stop. I replied, a bit of a bratty tone in my voice, that I wasn’t worried about it because I didn’t think he’d do anything anyway.
That’s when he got up and shut the bedroom door completely. He told me to get up and I hesitated. He repeated himself and there was something about the look on his face, the tone in his voice and the way he was standing there that told me I had better comply. I stood up and he spun me around so that I was facing the bed and then he pushed me down so that I was bent over the end of the bed. He pulled my pajama bottoms down in one swift movement and placed his hand on my back to keep me in place. With his other hand he was searching through a dresser drawer. I thought he might be looking for an implement, but then it dawned on me that if he was, he’d probably be grabbing the loopy because it's quiet and our kids and one of their friends were downstairs. I got nervous and tried to get up, but the more I struggled, the harder he pressed with his hand on my back and the more I realized I wasn’t going anywhere.
Then I felt it. No, it wasn’t the sting or thud of an implement on my bottom. It was his finger with lube on it, working its way into my bottom. In a panic I tried to get up, but of course my efforts were futile. He told me to hold still and said that he didn’t want me to get hurt. I tried to relax as he pushed his finger in and out of me. When he pulled it out completely, I knew what was coming next, the butt plug. He inserted our new plug, it’s stainless and smooth and it felt quite cold, though I knew it wouldn’t be long before it started to warm up to my body temperature. He had just pushed it right in, no working it in and out and gently inserting it, no, not this time.
He went into the bathroom to wash his hands and I crawled up onto the bed, pulling my pajama bottoms up. I was pouting about having the butt plug inserted and surprised that he’d done so. When he came back into the bedroom he told me that we needed to go downstairs. I protested. There was no way I was going downstairs, with the kids, with a butt plug in. He insisted I was. I begged him to let me take it out, but he refused. With a pout on my face I got up and went downstairs with him. I felt so uncomfortable though. I mean, I knew that the kids wouldn’t have any idea that it was there, but I certainly did. After a little while I asked again if I could please, please, pretty please go take it out. He asked me if I thought I could behave myself the rest of the night and I replied that I’d try my best. Thankfully, he allowed me to go take the plug out. I was so relieved and thankful and much more comfortable, especially emotionally. I just didn’t like having it in and being around the kids. I also realized that I brought the whole thing on myself and I apologized to him. He accepted my apology and we enjoyed the rest of the evening.
When we went up to bed I was restless. Honestly, I was hungry for attention. He was tired. No, he had been tired when he got home. He was exhausted. I lay on my back on the bed and kicked my legs a few times. “What was that?” he asked, obviously amused. “Um, a little tantrum, I guess” I answered. “And what was that all about?” he asked. “Uh, um…I don’t know.” I answered sheepishly. “Mmmm, why don’t I believe that?” he replied. I merely shrugged my shoulders.
He pulled me over to snuggle with him, but soon he directed me to suck on his nipple. I was surprised and I reached my hand over to play with his other nipple too. I was surprised because he normally doesn’t like me to play with his nipples or suck on them or anything. He usually prefers that I leave them alone, thank you very much. But here he was, encouraging me to suck and play with them. And by the look on his face and the sounds he was making, he was enjoying it too. When he’d had enough he told me to get up and get undressed. Again I was surprised. I knew how tired he was and yet I was also intrigued, wondering where this was going. I got undressed and laid back down on the bed and waited for him, as he’d gotten up to get undressed as well.
He lay down on his back on the bed and pulled me close and kissed me and then encouraged me to climb on top of him. I did so, but hesitated once I was there. Usually he takes charge, regardless of the position we’re in. But he just laid there and I wasn’t sure what he wanted or expected of me. He put his hands behind his head and smiled and told me that since he was tired, I could do the work. Oh, um, I could do that. And so, I got to work, as he called it. It wasn’t long before he was moving in rhythm with me though. And then his hands found my nipples. They were so sensitive for some reason and that made him want to play with them that much more. The waves I was riding grew higher and more intense and it wasn’t long before I was crashing on the shore. He, however, wasn’t ready to join me, not yet.
I lay next to him and he said there was something I was going to do for him. That sort of statement always arouses a mix of emotions from me. It makes me feel anxious because I worry that he’s going to want me to do something that I don’t want to do, and yet, I’m curious and intrigued as well. What he wanted me to do was suck him clean, since he’d been inside me. Suffice it to say that I was less than thrilled by this request. He reminded me that I used to do such things for him. I tried to deny it, but I knew he was right. I lay there, not sure what to do. He was watching me and said “You’re caught in a conundrum, aren’t you?” “What do you mean?” I asked. “You don’t want to do it and yet, you want to please me.” He was right, though I was loathe to admit it. He was patient with me and encouraging and after some hesitation, I did as he had requested. He seemed to enjoy it and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, though when he asked me about it, it was hard to admit.
Then we switched to the old standby, the missionary position, first with both of us up on the bed and then with him standing on the floor and me at the edge of the bed (maybe there's another name for that position, but if there is, I don't know it). Both were quite enjoyable, but apparently still not exactly what he was looking for. I suggested we try the doggie style position and he agreed. I rolled over and then he was in me again. His rhythm was building, but the angle wasn’t quite right for me and I pulled away from him, lying on my stomach on the bed, wiggling my bottom at him. He had me roll back over as he got up. I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing, but he got my attention quickly when I felt his finger penetrating my bottom. That was not what I had bargained for! I started to pull away, but he told me to stay where I was. Then he was mounting me and poking his manhood at the wrong whole, at least as far as I was concerned. I braced myself as he entered me. It had been awhile since he’d taken me that way. I mean, yes, I’d just had the butt plug in there earlier in the evening, but he’s a lot bigger than the plug is. My hands gripped his thighs as his rhythm built and then he was crashing on the shore, spent.
When he got up to clean up I curled up into a little ball on the bed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole thing. I had wanted attention, hadn’t I? I’d wanted to feel his dominance, yes? I had wanted to feel owned, right? And that’s exactly what he’d provided, wasn’t it? And yet, I was torn because if it had been up to me, things wouldn’t have headed in the direction he took them. And yet, I knew that it wasn’t up to me. He hadn’t hurt me, he hadn’t forced himself on me, I hadn’t refused him and he’d taken what he wanted anyway. No, the whole thing had been consensual and yet, I was still unsure how I felt about it, or perhaps I wasn’t sure how I should feel about it. Then he lay down next to me, pulled me close, and spooned me. He whispered in my ear “I’m so proud of you. I know that I pushed you some, but you did so well. I love you so much!” And then he kissed me and squeezed me tight. That was all it took. I started to melt into him. I let go of how I “should” feel and just let his love encompass me.