My Owner is an inveterate, unapologetic scientist at heart. A mad scientist, but a scientist, none-the-less. Today he sent me an email, after I had updated him on my Anal August doings of last night and today (six hours plugged during sleep, worn today for about two hours before bodily functions dictated I remove it, with the plan to reinsert before going out with the GirlChild tonight for her industrial piercing.) In it he said that he is interested in the ramifications of long-term use of a plug, both in physical terms and in the mindset of being a “plugged girl.” And it occurred to me that I hadn’t shared exactly what I had done today.
What I hadn’t shared with him was that while yes, I had inserted the plug and then removed it for bodily functions – I had then reinserted it. And once again I had worn it until I was forced to remove it again for the same reason, this time leaving it out until this evening when I go out with my daughter. It was that act – reinserting it – that is significant to me, and perhaps to him, if the “plugged girl mindset” is something he is interested in.
Because it was my desire to wear it that made me reinsert it.
It wasn’t the number of hours I am required to wear it. I knew I’d make my four hours later tonight. It wasn’t that he made me put it back in, or had told me I had to wear it at work.
It was that I wanted to wear it. I wanted it in there, snug inside my body, reminding me of this game we are playing. Reminding me of him.
I know, for him, what will and probably does turn him on about this is the idea of “subjugation.” This plug = subjugation to him. I guess, in its rawest terms, it does mean that. And yet…really…what it is about – to me – is submission.
He’s not standing over me, holding me down and shoving it into my body as he does when he pushes me down on the bed and fucks my ass. He’s not even demanding that I wear it or forcing me to.
But, because he wants me to, I want to. And…as I have started to wear it more often and to more places, I have come to feel…almost comforted by it, by the feel of the heavy steel, by knowing it’s there, for him, because I submit to him.
It’s not always comfortable, and ever since I shot it out of my ass I am terrified I might do so again, but…when I wear it thoughts of him are not far from my mind. Yes, sexual thoughts. Daydreams and anxieties about the other things on his list. Thoughts about his and Ad’s fingers and cocks in my ass. Thoughts about other implements…and other tortures. But overriding those are simply…the knowledge of his Ownership of my body. Of these things that I allow him to do to me and that I do for him.
My submission to him.
Almost like…a collar.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go put my collar – er, plug – back in.