My Master and the Toy That Stayed Inside

—Put on the plug, slut.

I didn’t have to ask which one. Adrián always meant that one, the one with the blue heart at the tip, the one he’d chosen for me one Sunday afternoon like someone picking out a ring. I crossed the room with my heart hammering in my chest and took it out of the box where I kept everything he had taught me to use.

I stood in front of his armchair. I bent down slowly, calculating the angle, making sure my ass was exactly at the level of his eyes. I knew how much he loved to watch. I smeared on a little lubricant with two fingers, reached my arm back, and began to insert it with a soft, unhurried motion, because haste was one of the few things he did not tolerate.

While I felt it make its way inside me, I couldn’t stop thinking of something else. I thought it wasn’t the plug, but him, opening me little by little, getting my body used to his thickness. The fantasy gave me a different kind of pleasure, more mental than physical, but my cunt didn’t understand nuance: it got wet anyway, treacherous, soaking my thighs.

When it finally went in all the way, I let out a long, wet “ah.” My ass had just been made ready for him.

—Sit in the chair. Open your legs and masturbate for me.

I obeyed. As soon as I put my weight on the wooden seat, the plug sank a little deeper and sent a shiver through me. My hands began to roam over me without him having to repeat anything. I parted my lips shamelessly, offering him the full view, while he remained sprawled in the armchair with that perverted face I loved so much. He had a cigarette in one hand and a glass of rum in the other.

In his gaze burned a quiet fire that seemed to mingle with the air we breathed. That seductive, mocking, amused gaze, blending with the crooked smile of someone who knows exactly what he’s going to get.

Pleasure clouded me over. My fingers massaged my clit mercilessly, and my other hand went up to my breasts to twist a nipple with a force that brushed against pain. In the room there were only two sounds: my moans and the splashing of my fingers against my soaked cunt.

Suddenly the plug drove deep again and gave me a wave of pleasure that folded me over the chair.

—Master, can I come? —I begged.

—Already? No, not yet, bitch. Go get the vibrator.

I got down from the chair, my legs trembling with desire and a frustrated moan stuck in my throat. I crawled on all fours to the toy box and took out the vibrator, a small pink one with an innocent look. But that sweet appearance was deceptive: it produced brutal vibrations. In my hands it was a sweet whim; in Adrián’s, a measured and delicious torment.

I went back to the chair and continued, now with the vibrator pressed against my clit. Heat took hold of me at once. I started enjoying it to the fullest, and every time the device vibrated harder, I clenched the plug by reflex and bounced little jolts in the seat. With each jolt I penetrated myself a little more, I felt the toy moving inside my ass, and the pleasure became unbearable because it was so good.

I couldn’t take it.

—Master, please, please, let me come —I begged in a thin voice, completely possessed.

—Come, whore.

The orgasm ran through me like a current chained from the nape of my neck to my heels, shaking me whole and tearing out a moan I didn’t even recognize as mine.

—Ahhh… thank you, master —I said with the last breath I had left.

But my hand did not stop. The vibrator was still dancing over my swollen clit, and even though I had just come, I couldn’t stop. Adrián noticed. He said nothing. On the contrary: with that smile fixed on his lips, he let out a single word.

—Continue.

And I did. I clenched the plug again, trying to feel it entering me once more, but it wasn’t the same anymore. I didn’t care. I started bouncing again, torturing my clit with those impossible vibrations, and I exploded in a second orgasm that came so fast it almost scared me.

When I managed to control my breathing, I thanked him. I knelt on the floor and wiped the chair clean with a cloth, damp from me. It was part of the ritual, and by now I did it without him having to ask.

—How well trained my little slut is —he said in a condescending tone, savoring every word.

He got up from the armchair and stood behind me. He squeezed my breasts with both hands, trapped my nipples between his fingers and pulled them upward, hard, until he forced me to stand so he wouldn’t rip them off. I moaned more than I expected.

—That’s enough, slut. Go take a shower and get dressed, you have to go to the office.

He gave me a tender kiss on the cheek, a gesture that contrasted with everything before it and, precisely because of that, melted me. I headed for the bathroom still floating.

***

I walked to the bathroom on clouds, my body soft and my head elsewhere. When I got there, I lifted one leg onto the edge of the toilet to take out the plug, the last task before the shower and before going back to being a normal woman with a normal day ahead of me.

And that was when all the arousal turned into something very different.

My finger couldn’t find the base of the plug.

I felt around again, more carefully, certain it was the angle. Nothing. I pushed a little with my fingertip, groped around it, and then I understood, with a chill running down my back, what had happened. I had swallowed the plug. All of it. That thing that minutes earlier had been pure delight was now stuck where it didn’t belong, with not a single point to pull on.

Adrián’s words from that very afternoon echoed in my head. You have such a greedy ass. At the time I’d laughed with him. Now they sounded like a curse.

Panic rose in my throat. My hands were trembling, my fingers cramping in that impossible posture as I strained again and again with no result. The position was agonizing, and no matter how hard I pushed, nothing moved. The plug was still there, stubborn, buried, as if it were part of me.

When I understood that I wasn’t going to be able to get it out by myself, I accepted defeat and decided to go tell him. It was that or staying locked in the bathroom crying until I lost my mind.

Adrián saw me appear without having showered, still naked, with my face contorted. He opened his mouth, I suppose to scold me for taking so long, but before he could say anything I blurted out, almost in tears, that I had swallowed the plug.

His face changed. The mockery was wiped away at once and replaced by a serious concern I hadn’t seen on him in a long time. Even so, his voice stayed calm.

—Have you tried bearing down?

—Yes, master, but it won’t come out. Nothing comes out.

He thought for a second. Then, with a half smile fighting against his unease, he told me what I feared most.

—Well. If it won’t come out, we’re going to have to find someone we trust to help us get it out. Or the other option is to take you to emergency.

I wanted to die of embarrassment right there. How was I supposed to explain to anyone that I had eaten a plug? That my ass was so greedy it had sucked it in on its own? I imagined the waiting room, the nurse, the questions, and desperation got the better of me. I burst into tears like a little girl.

Adrián hugged me. He didn’t scold me, didn’t mock me anymore. He held me against his chest and gave me a long kiss on the forehead.

—Don’t cry, my precious little slut. Everything has a solution. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.

***

Once inside, he asked me to breathe deeply and calm down. His voice had regained command, and curiously that calmed me more than any caress. He told me to squat, spread wide, and bear down while he searched for the toy’s head with his fingers.

He pressed carefully on the perineum, that thin strip of skin, and told me to slip my own fingers in from the vaginal side and push from there. My head almost exploded when I understood it: I could feel the plug through that very thin wall separating the two openings. It was right there, within reach, but on the wrong side.

I pushed from inside. Adrián, at the same time, inserted a finger into my ass and hooked the edge as soon as it peeked out.

—Now bear down hard —he ordered—. Everything you’ve got.

I did. I pushed with a strength I didn’t know I had left, squeezing my eyes shut, digging my nails into my thighs. The plug’s tip finally emerged, and as soon as there was something to grip, Adrián yanked it out in one sharp pull.

It was brutally painful. It was humiliating beyond words. And even so —because I’m such a slut I’m beyond help— the tug, the mix of pain and relief, my master’s finger inside me, all of it was enough to heat me up again and make me come right there, squatting on the bathroom floor.

Adrián noticed it, of course. He couldn’t help bursting out laughing, a laugh that bounced off the tiles and added, once again, to my humiliation.

I stayed on the floor, exhausted, red with shame and pleasure, with that damn blue-heart plug resting innocently in his hand. He looked at me with those amused eyes of his, with no trace of concern left, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or keep crying.

In the end I did both at once.

Because there are accidents that, no matter how embarrassed you are, you end up enjoying.