It’s true. We have a lot of buttplugs.
Glass, rubber, some kind of cool silicone stuff, steel.
We actually have a lot of toys in general meant to be stuffed into a willing (and sometimes, not quite so willing) butt hole. Anal beads, anal probes, dildos of various shapes and sizes. Oh, and cocks, of course. The one thing we don’t do is shove things up there that aren’t specifically made for anal play. W might shove pervertables like a broom handle, various tools, a pipe, a baseball bat and other random objects up my cooch, but neither of us wants an anal accident, so it is only “tested and approved” anal toys that we shove where the sun don’t shine.
And most often the things shoved in there are buttplugs.
From a purely physical perspective, I like the ache of that wide, insistent push into my body, of my body resisting, stretching painfully – almost too painfully – before it accepts it and the plug settles in, allowing my sphincter muscle to close around the neck of the toy. After that there is only the pleasurable stretch deep inside around the bulb of the plug, and the weight of it, reminding me that it is there. This is especially true of the steel plugs with their narrow necks – not so much with many of the others, whose wider necks tend to be almost unbearable after only a short time.
Buttplugs hit some wonderful mental triggers for me as well. They drop me into a submissive headspace, especially if I am wearing it at his command – and even more so when I don’t “want” to. I get a delicious thrill from wearing one in public, under my vanilla clothes, knowing that he knows I am wearing it but no one else does. The discomfort of it the longer I wear it only reminds me of my role in our sexual relationship, and reinforces it.
And as for how buttplugs feel sexually…I LOVE sex with a buttplug inside me. As he rocks against me, he pushes it subtly back and forth, exciting and igniting the nerve endings there. I love the weight of it and his thickness stroking it through the thin membrane between his cock and the plug.
Oh yeah, I like me some buttplug play.
Of course (as might be expected) W likes to use them in a slightly more punitive fashion. Remember this: An Enema, a Buttplug & Some Rope? Or perhaps the delight of last year’s Anal August (even if we didn’t succeed at all the things on the list, the ones we did do were hot!) Oh, and Jesus, I just ran across this accounting of a special date I went on with W early on (only a bit of buttplug play, but that little bit hints so deliciously at the attitude that I love when he gets into “Mean Guy” mode, as he so often does when it comes to anal play.) Oh, oh oh…and here, from my post Anal Slut:
The other day, when W had me wear a buttplug to lunch, it was as much the insertion of it–and the remembered embarrassment of that act–as it was the wearing of it that got to me. The whole time, as we drove to restaurant, while we walked inside, as we sat at lunch, I knew that he knew I had this thing in my ass, and that I had presented myself to him so that he could push it inside me, and I had that image in my head, staring me in the face, so to speak.
Remembering laying across his bed, knowing he was behind me, looking at my ass–no let’s be brutally honest here, not just my ass, men look at my ass all the time and it doesn’t embarrass me–looking at my asshole. If I could have squirmed away right then I would have. And then I felt his finger slide around the outside, felt the lube he was (kindly) using, and the image of it was almost too much to bear. I held my breath, squeezed my eyes shut; I didn’t want the embarrassment of watching what he was doing even in my imagination. And he hadn’t even put anything inside me yet. It was that knowledge, that he had that power over me, to tell me, “we are going to do this,” to make me open myself, that secret part of myself, to him that way, that made my stomach do flip-flops, that fucked with my head later.
There were the physical sensations: the feeling as he slid his finger into my asshole, such a deliciously embarrassingly pleasurable sensation; the slight release and relief and bit of disappointment as he slid his finger back out before placing the buttplug just there, at that tight opening of flesh; the pressure as he pushed it in, forcing me to open to it; the pain of pushing it all the way in, before the almost-bliss when it was finally all the way in; and the feeling of it stretching me painfully, filling me. And there were the emotional sensations: acute embarrassment, denial that I want it, that I want to feel exposed and made vulnerable this way. And the images all the while in my head, playing like a dirty movie: him standing over me, my legs and ass spread for him, his finger in my asshole, his hand pushing the plug inside me, and me, opening to him, my asshole spreading around the buttplug, clenching around it and holding it tightly inside me. It was enough to send me spiraling into subspace, just that easily. Nice.
That lunch date, one of our first, is one of my favorite memories, and still makes me throb with heat and need. Don’t get me wrong – that plug (one of his rubber ones, which I really don’t like) made for a terribly uncomfortable lunch. I was not well trained in the use of plugs, and two hours with it inserted was pretty miserable. But he had made me take it, made me wear it, made me sit through lunch squirming.
I was in heaven.
Having mentioned how W likes to use buttplugs in play, I don’t think this post would be complete without a picture story to illustrate the kind of scene I’m talking about.
This one was a predicament scene. My Njoy 2.0 was tied off to a bolt in the ceiling, forcing me to keep my ass in the air if I didn’t want to cause myself discomfort from it – a position that rapidly became exhausting on my thighs. But that wasn’t the only consequence of lowering my knees to the floor – there were clothespins on my nipples, tied to another bolt in the floor, and because of the way he had my arms tied, if I went down on my knees, the pins pressed into the floor, causing pain there.
Then there was the pokie pad under my wrists (and shins at one point.)
Oh, and gag and the clothespin on my tongue. Did I mention that?
Here, I’ll just let you see for yourself…
Because, even after all that, that stupid Njoy still made me want to fuck.
So we did.
As I said, I like me some buttplug play…
Do you have a buttplug story to share? Head on over to the Kink of the Week and link your post with the others – and be sure to check out who else is Getting Their Kink On!