Our first anal experience was completely unplanned.
For months my slave had been hinting—sometimes not at all
subtly—that he wanted it. First the vibrator appeared, intended for use on him although it ended up equally useful
for me. Next came the instinctive flinching whenever he was tied up, as if I
were about to conduct a sneak attack on his anus while he couldn’t see or move.
Then he described his fantasies of being tied spread-eagle and forced to beg me
to fuck him in the ass. Of course we would find a strap-on that stimulated me, too,
he promised.
I was not too sure about all this. First of all, anal meant
being careful. What if I hurt him? I could shove the thing in too fast, or in
the wrong direction, or without quite enough lube, and bam, problems! (At
least, it seemed so to me.) And the other thing was…well, it was gross. Surely
my hands, the sheets, and everything else would end up slick with
bacteria-laden lube, and that simply wasn’t appealing.
Fortunately, I have a time-tested method of forcing myself
to try scary new things: I surprise myself by just doing it, without
forethought, completely out of the blue.
“It’s just so gross,” I said, for the first time fully
explaining my reasons for delaying this. J was tied hand and foot to the bed,
lying on his back, chatting with me as I idly teased us both. “And I’m afraid
I’ll hurt you. I don’t know.”
“You won’t hurt me as long as you use lots of lube, and as
long as I’m not gagged and can talk to you. As for the mess, well, we’ll put a
towel under my butt, and I have nice Nitrile gloves in my bag so you don’t have
to feel latex against your skin.” My slave knows I hate the feel of latex.
(Unfortunate for a Domme, but so it goes.)
I pondered him quietly for a moment while the wheels turned
in the back of my head. Suddenly, without consciously making a decision, I sprang
up from the bed. “Where are the gloves?” I asked.
“What…what are you doing?” he asked tremulously.
“Striking while the iron’s hot,” I said. “Where are they?”
Soon the towel was spread beneath him, my hair was pulled
back, and I was ominously snapping a pair of purple medical gloves between my
hands.
“Well. Let’s do this.” His legs trembled as I lubed my palms
and liberally spread the slippery liquid over the vibrator. A whimper escaped
him as my fingers gently slid into his crack, slicking moisture all around,
sliding ever-so-slightly inside.
“You’re really doing this?” His high-pitched whine rang with
disbelief that part of his fantasy was actually being enacted. I merely slid
the tip of the vibrator into him in response.
As I watched his hips rise and grind toward my hand, his fists
clenching against the headboard, his face contorted…I knew that once again he’d
been right. After seeing how much he enjoyed this, I was going to want to do it
again…and again…and again….
Mistress K
