I have written a lot about anal and wondered if I still had anything to say on the matter. But when I thought about it, I can see how much this is an area which has grown in significance as part of our D/s. Looking back now at how far I have come made me feel surprised. And for some reason anal is something which surprises me. Even still. I am surprised that we do it and that we enjoy it. I am surprised by the impact it has had on me and by the way that it has allowed me to understand my humiliation kink. And I am surprised by the thoughts in my head about what might eventually come next.
Anal fantasies were never more than the stuff of imaginings, until I met HL. Then we talked about them and soon enough, he asked to stick his finger in my arse. This was my introduction to real time anal play. It started with a finger and sort of went from there. There was lube of course, not that first time as it was spur of the moment so he sucked his finger first and then popped it in, but after that, when it got heavier and we wanted to go further. So a finger, then small plugs and vibes, and usually always the lube.
We moved on reasonably quickly. HL has always enjoyed stuffing things into me, so really where one finger went, others were destined to follow. The little plug that I had first of all was replaced by a full on training set with gradated sizes, all of which would have their moment of truth. What he really wanted though, was his cock in there, and that was something that did happen from time to time. I had always prefaced the knowledge of my fantasies with the information that, in reality, I didn’t always want to do what I thought was hot, so he was careful around it.
Despite what our sex life would indicate, anal was still a limit, all be it a soft one. Looking back this seems strange as it was something that we did quite regularly. Full blown anal sex would come prefaced with an intention that it was part of the smorgasbord of delights for that evening. I will be honest and say that, sometimes, my fear won over my more rational nature and I did wriggle my way out of it. Anal was like champagne, I said, nice now and then for a treat or celebration, but not an everyday pleasure. Ironically, despite what was or wasn’t said, anal was something that continued to have a place, and an evolving one at that.
The birth of his anal slut
To say I was his anal slut would simply not be true. My mind would only ever allow me to pronounce those words when ‘forced to’ during the throws of a passion which has long since claimed my rational mind. Lost in the pleasure and the thrill of the cognitive dissonance, I will agree (to keep HL happy of course) that I love it and want it and need it. There is a deliciousness in this for me, and it is almost as good as the way that actually doing it makes me feel. I love the emotional masochism that it brings me by catapulting me right into the middle of the things that I don’t want to want.
I dance around the issue, sometimes hinting, sometimes suggesting, but only once ever asking outright without prompting. I have thought about it, of course, but, like my fantasies, that feels like a different thing than taking the responsibility for verbalising and doing, or rather receiving. I am a submissive after all. Him making me want things, against my will, is part of the pleasure. As is making me need things and him knowing what they are so that right on cue, he allows them to enter from stage left, blindsiding me.
So really while he brought things out of my head on a practical level, I still remain there to a certain extent. This is how I like it. This is something I find hot. Playing with my psychology, as he does with anal, leads me to give up the fight for control between mind and body. I melt, become putty for him, and he moulds me and shapes me into something else completely in that moment. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I become his anal slut. I am wanton and needy and greedy. He puts things into places he shouldn’t and I moan with pleasure, opening up to take more of whatever he wants to give.
The Shocking Truth
The truth has shocked me in some senses. That is when I allow myself to think of the truth at all. From the person tentatively consenting to a finger exploration, I seem to have moved pretty smoothly into someone engaging in acts of a more hardcore nature. None of this comes lightly, of course, and if HL had said that he was going to open me up with a speculum and then try double penetration using himself and the fucking machine, I would have squeaked and squirmed and worked myself a creative escape. He knows me well though, so what he did was much much cleverer.
Having had me on my back on his bench, he had played with me and brought me to orgasm several times already. The fucking machine was not something I had ever felt particularly positive about but on this occasion, I had to admit I had misjudged how good it could be. And despite being pleasured already, despite my frequent wriggling away from anal, my mind filled with thoughts about how much I wanted it. I hoped that he would ask me to roll over and do some of the things he had already tried, but anally this time. I wanted him to own me and consume me and take me apart.
And there it was! I wanted him to try those things I didn’t think possible for me to take. I relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of him sliding the speculum into me! And OMG. I wanted him to fuck me there with his machine. The horrible, noisy, impersonal machine with its large jelly dildo swaying in a threatening manner in the reflection in the glass of the mirrored door. It happened of course. I was lost to myself completely and spacey when it was over but for it to have been over, it had to have happened in the first place.
And it had happened despite myself. He had led me and my thoughts, right to the point he wanted us at. He had taken control completely, of my mind, of my body, of what I had always allowed myself to be. My transformation was absolute. There was humiliation, there was dissonance and there was pleasure. There was an overwhelming need and insatiability. There was a feeling that I never wanted it to end and that there would never be a moment like this again. And so, while I may very well say that I don’t have much to say about anal, really I have to admit, that is simply quite untrue.
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