I kneel on the floor in front of you, sitting relaxed on the bed. I'm staring at the thing in your hands. It's a small, black velvet drawstring bag. I've never seen it before, and whatever is in it can't be very big, but you're looking pleased with yourself. I'm not stupid enough to say it, but that makes me nervous.
"Do you want to see?" you ask.
I nod, licking dry lips. Whatever it is, it's going to end up on me - or in me - one way or another. Best to face it now.
Nimble fingers play with the drawstring, opening it slowly, making the moment last. You dip your fingers in and grasp whatever's inside then pause, look at me. I can't decide where to look. At your hands, the bag and the hidden thing inside? Your eyes, wicked amused? Or your cock, which is already hard. You're excited by whatever's in there.
"Ready?" you ask.
"Yes." I speak this time, because the nod from before just led me to this teasing.
You take the time to smirk at me a little more, enjoying the potent mix of eagerness and apprehension that I know must be playing across my face as it's swirling in my belly.
At last, it's revealed to me. And oh. It's pretty, much less frightening that I'd worked myself up to imagine. A butt plug, I eye the bulbous centre warily, but there's no denying the rose gold metal and little pink jewel on the end are appealing. A princess plug.
"I want to see this in you," you say, handing it over to me.
I take it automatically, feeling the cool of the metal in my hand. It doesn't look particularly big, but when I curl my fingers around it, I can feel the solidity of the centre. It's going to stretch me.
"Lube?" I ask hopefully. Then, remembering myself, "Please?"
The "No" that was halfway to your lips halts and you think for a second. I bite my tongue against further entreaties, knowing they're more likely to hinder my cause than help it.
"All right," you say. "But I want to see it going in."
I stop dead, halfway to my feet. To see? Usually, I present myself, plug in situ. Or you put it in yourself while I try my best to calm my qualms. Watching? It feels like a new level of intimacy. I'm... not sure I can do that.
"Or you can put it in without the lube," you offer.
Fuck. I definitely want the lube.
Getting to my feet, I scurry to the bathroom and return with the small bottle. I drop to the floor in front of you, resuming my previous position, but you tut softly. When I look up, you're shaking your head.
"How will I see?" you ask.
It takes me a moment to process that, then a moment longer to get up the courage to act. Slowly, reluctantly, I pivot, until my back is to you and, when I lean forward and prepare to insert the plug, my asshole.
I squirt a little lube onto my fingers and reach back, sliding first one and then two inside, coating myself with the oily substance. You make a low noise of approval but I can't manage to turn around and acknowledge it. I'm too embarrassed.
Concentrating on my task, I lube up the plug, spreading a lot more around it that you probably would. I feel tense, though, my muscles clenching under your watchful gaze, and I think I might need the help.
It takes every ounce of courage I have to reach around with the plug in my hand and start inserting it while you watch calmly and silently. It doesn't matter that I can't hear you, I can feel your gaze on me. It's a wait almost as solid as a hand stroking down my back.
The plug is too big for me to just slide it in, so I play a little, placing the tip at my rear entryway and sliding it in and out, pushing a little harder each time.
With my legs spread and my pelvis tilted, it should be easy to push past the roundest part, but I'm tense and the plug feels bigger now that it did in the palm of my hands. I push until I feel that burn. The sting that says full stretch has been reached, that warms of pain to come. I try to ignore it, keeping firm, gentle pressure with my fingers, and with a sudden rush, it slips fully inside.
I gasp, because it hurt a little, but as the echoes of pain slide away I can feel it, nestled there, reminding that I'm a sexual creature.
"Spread," you say quietly. "I want to see it properly."
I grimace, because you can't see. I hate doing this, and you know it. It feels humiliating to me, exposing me on the deepest level I've found so far. but i do it, because you asked. Instructed.
