Anal, Masochism, and Communication

I’ve discussed my reluctance with masochism previously, but in talking with Intriguing about my most recent brush up with N’s “I don’t care if you don’t want it, you’re getting it” philosophy, I’ve realized that my version of masochism is horribly clear as mud, and I’m damned lucky N’s been around me long enough to understand that when I say no, I’m needing a yes, but asking for the no/yes combo nullifies the no.

I’m not real fond of anal sex, which is why it makes my cunt gush fountains. In the shower last night, N told me to grab the oil bottle. I slumped…there’s only one reason He tells me to grab that bottle, and it’s not a good one. I tried my little girl lost look and said “It’s pretty late…I’m tired. We should go to bed.” He shook His head and pointed at the bottle. “But I’m sore and the water will get cold!” I wheedled. He just pointed again, His face hardening. I huffed a sigh and reluctantly grabbed the bottle, pouring a little into my hand and warming Him up with a hand-job. I tried to use a few of my usual tricks to maybe get Him to want a happy ending with that instead, but He cut me off at the pass and told me to knock it off.

Eventually He’d had enough of my slippery jerking and told me to turn around. The oil was cold as it ran down the crack of my ass, and I complained. He laughed and said that I always say its cold, but He doesn’t quite believe me, and He’ll need more data before He thinks about it.

He pressed Himself into me, and I tried to relax, really. I tried to ignore that I was cold, tired, tense, and wet. It hurt as He forced His way in, and I spent a while working through the pain. Part of it was that the lube wasn’t spreading far enough, but instead of asking for more, I relished the pain. I didn’t want to be the one who needed more lube. I wanted to suffer as long as He was happy; I wanted to hurt as He was feeling pleasure. So He continued to ride my ass as I rode the pain, knowing that my cunt was twitching and dripping, unable to smother my moans and whines as He thrust deeper and deeper.

“Play with your cunt,” He growled in my ear. I whimpered a little, knowing that He loves to feel me getting off with His cock buried deep in my ass. I hate the indignity, the shame, the wanton hussiness it brings out in me. It’s up there in my top ten humiliation activities, which is why He finds it so attractive, I’m sure. Even though I was trying to ignore the heat radiating from my pussy, my hand was sliding down to nestle between my nether-lips, and it wasn’t long before I was begging Him to let me cum. I could feel His breath across the water on my neck, and suddenly the cold of His breath, the pain of His fucking, the knife’s edge of orgasm I was on…it was all too much. I needed the permission, or my clit was just going to explode and fall off…

“Yes!” He growled as He lunged forward, spearing me to the wall and making me cry out as the rush of the orgasm met the sharp sting of His thrust. It was a volatile combination that made my knees melt and my vision blur in the explosion of pleasure and pain.

I stood, head against the wall, breathing heavily as His cum dripped down my leg, mingling with my own juices before washing away in the shower spray. I couldn’t find my breath, or my thoughts, or words to thank Him for ignoring my wants in favor of His own. How could I say thank You for ignoring me? Thank You for not listening to me? Thank You for giving me what I can’t ask for?

I just looked up at Him and smiled weakly. “Thank You,” I muttered.

“Thank you.” He said with a grin.

I know that owning a reluctant masochist has to be hell sometimes, especially if you love them. Sometimes sorting out the “I don’t wanna” from the “I do want to, but can’t say it flat-out” gets to be a bitch. But I’m thankful that not only does N speak my language, He’s willing to put Himself before me. That fulfills me way more than indulging me ever will.

Thank You.

My Dog Ate My…

Let’s play “Mad Limericks”. Did you ever play that as a kid? Fill in the blank in this line:

My dog ate my ___________ while I was __________ with ____________.

Write your entries in the comments section. 🙂

Here’s mine:

My dog ate my glasses while I was being beaten with a rusty pitchfork.

No, I am not making that up. Only my life would hand me such stupid shit and then sit back and laugh at me.

We can buff those right out. 🙂

Continue reading

Extended Plug Wear

It seems there is a bit of conflicting info about extended butt-plug wearing. The “experts” can only guess, and often do so through the bias of  “It’s abnormal, so let’s just condemn it” and the practitioners tend to get shrill with the “Nobody’s ever died of long term plug wearing” as well.

So here’s my non-professional anecdotal evidence, as experienced by me.

I wear an Njoy Medium Stainless Steel plug. As evidenced below:

"Njoy" my ass! ...oh, wait...

I have been wearing it since I wrote this post March eleventh of this year. That’s over two months. I wear it from shortly after I get up in the morning until right before bed at night, roughly fourteen hours a day.

I haven’t died.

The daily maintenance that is required to wear the Njoy plug all day isn’t too tedious for me. I insert it in the morning after my morning toilet routine, with just a little spit placed on my orifice before I place it in. It doesn’t come out unless I need to have a movement. If I just need to urinate, I lightly hold it in place with my fingers while I let my PC muscles loosen, and when everything is finished I clean myself well and wash my hands well. If I do need to have a movement, I place it on toilet paper, wash it off well while my body does its thing, clean myself again, then reinsert it with a little more well placed spit.

I don’t re-lube unless it had to come out. I don’t seem to run out of lube during the day, so either my ass is a self-lubricating orifice (take that, medical experts!) or my spit has some magical synthetic 5W-30 properties.

I can hear a bunch of you working up the courage to ask me, so I’ll answer your unspoken question: Yes, I can pass gas with my plug in. I don’t try to, in fact I try not to toot at all unless alone in the bathroom, but hey, it happens to all humans from time to time, and no, I haven’t exploded yet. The medium is small enough to allow air to release around it when sufficient pressure builds up. I have heard that the Large Njoy Plug creates a bit more difficulty in this area, so the person I’d suggest you go read up is Kaya. She has discussed her challenges with the Njoy Large Plug on her blog.

I have not had chafing, constipation nor weakness of the bowels and/or anus since beginning my adventure with the Njoy. Well, I have had chafing of the mind, but that was only superficially connected to the Njoy.

After two months of consistent wear, I have not noticed my body adapting much of any way to the plug’s presence. It doesn’t hurt to insert it, but it isn’t a breeze, either. It doesn’t just pop out, my muscles are still reluctant to open for no bodily reason.

It does, however, “pave the way” for when N wants to use me anally. He likes to slowly pull it out, push it back in, work it a few times to stretch me a little, and then just go to town. It does work in that fashion, but only when He’s manipulating it. The neck of the plug is slender enough to allow for a tight muscle ring to remain.

It has been very effective at fucking with my mind. It is a lot harder to forget you are owned when you have to hold a chunk of stainless steel in place whilst you piss. I carry a little ziploc bag in my purse in case there is something wrong and I have to take my plug out while out and about. Bumpy car rides are a bit more exciting and having to ask to take it back out at the end of the day is certainly humbling.

Especially when He hesitates and remarks that one day He’s going to say no and I’ll have to learn to sleep with it in. 😦

So in summary, after nearly three months of all day wear:

  • I have not developed atrophy of the muscles at all
  • I have not developed an E.coli infection of my twat
  • I have not developed any infection anywhere related to the plug
  • Proper hygiene and awareness makes the likelihood of infection much lower
  • Incontinence has not been an issue
  • My awareness of my lot in life has deepened
  • I haven’t died
  • My head hasn’t fallen off
  • It’s kinda hawt

Any questions about the plug, extended wear, the psychology of it, what not? Drop a line in the comments or email me. I’ll do my best to answer.

p.s. Apparently my spellchecker is an O-type because it refuses to recognize the word “no” as valid. Hm.

A Stainless Steel Writer’s Block

Comes in size medium, costs about 75 dollars. Well used.


Since having the Njoy consistently shoved into my ass since the day after it came here, I’ve had some mental fall out to deal with. Nothing life-shattering, but its uncomfy and hard to talk about.

The Njoy knocked a huge breach into one of my last surviving walls. I felt raw and wounded from having this last scrap of illusion ripped from me. N was just as surprised as I was to my venomous reaction to having to wear the Njoy all day.

N has me wear the Njoy during the day at all times, only allowed to come out for exercise and toilet use. Any other time has to be asked for via voice. He has called for this be a constant reminder of my place. To reinforce that I am subject to His whims, that nothing sacred is really mine. Not even my body, nor the functions it performs. It isn’t all negative, though. He cared enough about my underlying fear of abandonment of the relationship that He spent 75 dollars and an obscene amount of patience and time to come up with a reminder of His commitment to me, and I to Him.

The first day I had to wear it most of the day really was a hard day. He was trying so hard to check in with me, to find out my thought process, my physical comfort. Unfortunately, earlier in this relationship He had spent most of the days after a “scene” fake-solicitously asking how I felt, was I sore, while mangling the sore bits. So when He was being sincere and looking for solid input, I became hostile and defensive from feeling like He was constantly mocking my new-found awkwardness.

Than night, as I knelt before Him, waiting to say my devotion, it all came out.

The worst thing I said, the hardest thing to say, was “I don’t trust you to not make fun of me.”

I didn’t. For so long He had teased me and mocked me after doing something humiliating or painful to me, that I was unable to see when He was being serious and genuine. It isn’t that I don’t like the teasing…it is all fun when in the original context. But when something as emotionally explosive as long-term butt plug wearing is on the table, it isn’t funny anymore. I feel violated, raw, debased and angry.

It took Him aback when I said I couldn’t trust Him to not mock me. We both weren’t real sure what the hell we were saying anymore. He patiently explained to me that He had seen a consistent fear in me of Him abandoning the O/p relationship basis. He felt that a constant reminder of my status would help allay those fears a bit. He chose the plug because it was something that would keep me slightly off-beat, something discreet and something that pleased Him. He does not normally spend money on me for the sheer fuck of it, so I know that He really put thought into this. He related to me how He had read voraciously, weighing the pros and cons from people in the Njoy group, reading the comments made by my FL friends about their Njoy joys and trials.

I was mortified that I had accused Him of mocking me and not taking my emotional strain seriously. He was unhappy to realize that He had (unwittingly) trained me to not take Him seriously.

So we cautiously came around. I apologized for being such a defensive, ungrateful hag and He vowed to make it more clear when He wants tangible feedback and isn’t just yanking my chains.

I’ll discuss the actual effect the Njoy has on my mental state in a later post.

Goddamned Bus Drivers and the “Innocent” Bystanders Who Shove You Under

Well this is just fucking great.

Got a call from N this morning, He says “I have a packaged coming for me from UPS. I bought you something. You can’t open it.”

I heard that dark gloating glee in His voice and my asscheeks clenched and my tits tightened up. That tone never bodes well for me. Looks like I have some self-preservation after all.

I placed the box on the counter and glared at it. I shook it – firmly packed. Medium weight…could it be a RingofSteel collar like I’d been begging for? Or maybe a pretty whip or delicious flogger, curled up in wait like a pleasurable viper? The box label didn’t tell me much, and I figured that I could back trace the address if I wanted… but N told me I couldn’t snoop. Otherwise I would have opened His email the minute He hung up.

He spent the day mocking me on FL.

Finally shoved the kids to bed, and He calls me to His desk. I dragged my feet as I went…there was something about how much amusement and laughter He had that really made me worry. I knelt and waited as He leisurely cut the tape, pulled apart the packing paper…and hid the invoice against Him. Bastard – er I mean Love You, Sir. I was so impatient, but I didn’t want anything to come out of the box…

and out pops this:


That's right, it's a goddamned Njoy sticker. Nothing good can come of one of these coming out of a mystery box.

If I could have, I would have quickly tossed the box into the garbage without going any further.

He pulled out the box, and I will admit, it is a pretty box. I kept wishing against hope that He bought the pleasure wand. Or maybe (ha!) the pfun plug for Him.

Nope. Out comes a beautiful medium pure plug. It’s heavy, it’s all smooth curves and polished metal. I would say it’s too pretty, too beautiful to shove up my ass, but I guess I don’t get a say.


One of the things that makes me say "Oh fuck me, please no".

He taunted me with it for a bit, then told me to get on my knees and flip my skirt up. “Now?!” I squeaked. I wheedled, trying to get out of it…no avail. Backed into the proverbial corner, I asked where the lube was.

“Spit is a lube.” He countered.

I scoffed. “Spit is never an acceptable lube.” His eyes hardened a little bit and I hastily amended “Please?”

“Fine. Make it quick.” He grunted.

So I did, and I knelt, Flipping my skirt over my back. Oh, was it cold. Heavy. Foreign. I kept telling myself to breath, to open up…and He popped it right in. I grunted, and felt my ass trying to understand why this blob of metal had suddenly taken up residence. He patted my ass cheek and laughed. “How’s it feel?” He cooed solicitously.

“Like a chunk of stainless steel in my ass.” I replied crossly. Really, what is a good answer to that? “Like rainbows and butterflies”? “An orgasm and bliss all rolled up”?

So here I sit. It takes some getting used to, but I’m not doing too bad. I can feel the ring of muscle randomly adjusting. It’s noticeable when I walk, but when I sit it actually doesn’t hurt or anything, which is a blessing.

Except that He is talking about extended wear. Fuck.

I guess I don’t mind it, except (there’s always an “except…” with me) that to me, it’s a constant feeling of invasion, of humiliation, of no personal boundaries. (Quit laughing at me) I don’t know if it gets easier to assimilate into your mind, but right now I haven’t’ really forgot or become used to there being metal plugging my ass.

I know it is the point, but goddamn.


I would like to also point out that this post made my spellchecker have a stroke.

I Still Have Fingers, Arms and a Head

Good thing last night wasn’t decapitation or limb-chopping night.

Last night, was, well, it was wow. Wow is a good word for it. And minus the first ‘w’, it still applies.


Like I wrote yesterday, it started with the butt plug. Eventually He skipped it and we went about our merry ways getting the kids to bed. After they were asleep He made me a drink, which had twice the usual amount of alcohol in it. I commented that I felt like I could breathe fire after taking a drink and He just snickered. He was so upbeat and excited, like a kid right before Christmas morning. He kept swatting my ass and pinching my tits, and it was making me jumpy and skittish.

I had to strip naked, bring my collar to Him and put on my buckle heels, and that is when I started to worry. He tied me to one of the floor jacks in the basement, spreader bar/shackle combo on my legs, spreader bar and velcro cuffs on the wrists, pulled out and above me. I struggled to hold that position in 3.5″ heels while He swarmed me, tugging on my nipples, pinching my ass, nibbling my neck, murmuring that I was right not to trust Him, chuckling as I tottered on my heels…then, the sound of the camera zooming in. I hid my face as He snapped away, laughing at me.

He took the heels off my poor feet and switched to a different style of spreader bars for my ankles, ones without manacles. He “warmed me up” with some light swats and a few bites, then started in with the thin rubber flogger. I jumped and hissed and tried to sink into the pain. Then He grabbed the leather flogger and laid in. Lightly at first, nice punchy hits that I grunted and absorbed. Once He had me lulled He started flicking it, using wrap-around on the hips and chest, intentionally wrapping it around my cunt and nailing me on the really soft flesh of my lower belly. I hissed and growled and screamed when he really bit in with the strands. He’d mock me when I yelped, asking if it hurt, assuring me that He wasn’t swinging real hard. Which is a useless fucking assurance when He’s utilizing wraparound. Really. I am not that damn dumb. The first time He snapped my stomach with it I screamed, and He came into my vision and asked so solicitously “Aw, did that hurt? I didn’t hit that hard.” to which I angrily replied “Yeah, it is called wrap-around, Asshole! Ever heard of it?!” He looked at me with the most straightest of faces and said coolly “Yes, yes I have.” before doing it again. And again, and again…

The hitting of me with various stingy instruments was randomly interrupted by moments where He would press me into the beam while finger-fucking my ass or my cunt, biting my neck and mocking me more. I struggled so hard to fight back the orgasm, to deny the pleasure, even as my cunt squelched and I could smell the musky aroma of my own betrayal. He fucked me with the handle of the rubber flogger, then whipped me with it. I cursed Him, His mother, the day He was born..

He let me down after a while and reached for the ring on my collar to drag me into the bedroom. Not knowing why His hand was reaching for me, I flinched back. He grinned before grabbing the ring, and that’s when I started to really feel the tingle in my belly that means the fear-monster is rising. He was letting the inner Asshole come out to play, and that meant it would be a long hard night.

In the bedroom He tells me to drink more of the lemonade mixer He made me. I had to lay my head over the edge of the bed after that (me protesting the whole time that if I puked it would “be on Him”, get it, aren’t I a laugh?) for some facefucking, pictures required. He attacked my clit as I struggled to swallow Him, and I was so confused my the mixed signals of “No Air!” and “Want to Cum!” going on in my brain. I was so damned turned on by this point that any more than 2 minutes of His attention to my clit made me ready to explode, which was always when He would remove said attention. After He’d had enough of the facefucking He got out the rope again and tied me up tight in a tit harness. He sat at the edge of the bed and diddled me as I sat astride His lap, and everytime I went to moan He smothered me with His huge rough hand. Smothering is one thing when you get to take a breath before hand. When it hits you on the exhale, it takes a lot less time till panic sets in. At some point it became too hard for Him to control me while He was sitting, so He shoved me into the wall and kissed me violently, raping my mouth with His tongue as His hands roamed across my body pinching, pulling, scratching, mauling. He hungrily sucked away my screams and pleas. Then He threw me across the bed, and I didn’t have the will to do anything but lay where I landed. I was gasping, trying to catch my breath. First He pulled out the locking bit gag, strapped that on tight. Then it was the blindfold. I balked at that, I know it is cheating, but I like to know what is coming at me, dammit. He commanded me to all fours, and I slowly complied, warily.

I know it is clichéd, but after the first few light hits with the mahogany bastard, I trembled with fear and pain. I hate that fucking paddle. Hate HATE HATE it. It bites, it stings, it quickly reduces me to a shaking sobbing pile of bitch. I stayed on all fours for the beginning, but as the hits started getting nastier I was doing everything I could to minimize the blows. It seemed like everything I tried just made a nice target of something else, and I began to throw myself forward or on my side. He crawled on top of me, pinning me to the bed, and continued to whale on my ass, my thighs, my back. I screamed. I gagged. I cried, I begged…I bucked and heaved and clawed…and then I broke. I sniffled into the sheets and laid limp, unable to fight anymore.

He laughingly asked me if a good fuck sounded good right about then, and I wholly agreed…only the tone of His voice had me worried that my definition of a good fuck wasn’t going to be the same as His. I was right…it wasn’t. He had me get hooked up to the fucking machine and suck on Him as I was fucked by the insistent yet impersonal toolbox buddy. As I gobbled N’s cock He fingered my ass again, teasing me with accusations of being an anal slut, shaming me about my love/hate relationship I have with ass love. After a bit of this the machine dong fell out, so while I went upstairs to clean up a little He made a few changes. When I got back, He gave me two choices: more of the DP with the fucking machine, or N in my ass. Knowing that N was going to end up in my ass at some point or another, I chose to get it over with early. Stupid me.

He had me climb on Him, which is my absolute least favorite position for anal, mainly because He can see my face and can further deride and humiliate me about liking anal. And oh, did He. The stream of mocking, sharp comments was constantly on me, and all I could do was whisper “Shut up, I hate You” over and over as my cunt dripped and my nipples tingled. After a bit of this He pushed me off and told me to get back on all fours and fuck myself with the another dong from the fucking machine. I did so, face flushed with shame and embarrassment, and then He mounted and shoved His cock into my ass. I groaned and moaned and whimpered, tears edging out of my eyes as the pressure built. I struggled to catch my breath against the pain even as the orgasm built inside of me.  I inched forward on the bed, trying to lessen the blows to my abused orifices from His thrusts, and the dong fell out. Now it was just N, slamming into my sore ass, and I was flattened to the bed, His weight pinning me in place as He buried Himself in my ass over and over again. I cried out from the pain as He made His final thrust, filling my ass with His come. Hoping that He was satiated, I asked for a towel to clean up with, and He tossed me a towel to sit on, then suggested that He beat some more sense into me. I begged and wheedled, assuring Him that I was well-informed of my place in the world, tyvm. So instead, I was due for some more fucking, and finally allowed that damned orgasm that had been mocking me all night. When it finally hit, I’m pretty sure my heart stopped and I took ten minutes off of my life.

Aftercare consisted of me helping Him put away the instruments of doom toys and cleaning up myself. I drank a little juice and nibbled on a piece of cheese while He showered, then headed back to the bedroom and collapsed into a pile of well-used girl.

Today He has delighted in all the marks He left on me, and has used every chance available to grope slap and pinch my bruised ass. I have rope burn from the tit harness He wrapped me in, bruises all over my ass, sore spots on my thighs from where He pinned me to the bed, a split lip, and an invisible bruise on my forehead where I kept hitting my head on the floor jack pole as He was flogging me. He thinks it is hilarious and is still on me, poking and prodding to get me to whimper. I’m learning to press my ass against flat surfaces whenever He’s near me.