Let me start by saying no, this isn’t something you’ll see in your average hot tub party. But when she told me I’d be getting “punished” for coming home late, I knew it was way past time to stop pretending submissiveness wasn’t my true face. My girlfriend Jess—the bossy, tattooed, leather-jacket queen who’d once forced me to wear her heels to a job interview—had been talking about trying this for six months. “You’ll be so tight, you’ll feel every part of it,” she’d said. I said okay. I didn’t expect the pain.
Scene one: the prep. Jess tied my hands to the bedposts with the same leather cuffs she used for paddling, yanking my wrists up so my chest sagged forward. “You like being displayed like this?” she asked, pinching my nipples until I grunted. I couldn’t answer. She laughed like a caged thing. “Too soon—first the plug, then the cock.” She rubbed lube on her fingers—three of them, all of the way in—to the point where my ass was dripping, but no. That wasn’t the real thing.
She brought out the plug, a silicone bulb the size of a stress ball. The tip was ribbed, the base a rigid circle of rubber. I’d seen it in her drawer, a cheap novelty item, but it looked monstrous now in her hand. “You nervous?” she whispered. I could barely nod. Her first finger slipped into me again, pressing against the plug’s entrance, and when the bulb went in, I couldn’t help flinching. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it felt like a hot stone packed into me, stretching the hole like a fist I couldn’t clench. “Shit,” I hissed. “That’s huge.”
She laughed, her fingers dancing along my inner thigh. “Not even close, baby. Try breathing—don’t let it push air up your intestines.” She massaged my ass, making the plug squish against my insides. I could feel it wobble when I shifted, a constant pressure that made my thighs tremble. Every fart I tried to hold back failed, and she kept laughing. “You’re a mess already. Look at the plug bouncing.”
Scene two: the strapon. Jess went to her closet and returned with a black leather harness, the strapon cock jutting toward the floor like a sword. It was thick and pulsing, even when it wasn’t moving. Her hands gripped my hips, her forehead resting between my shoulder blades. “You ready?” she asked. I grunted again, because my jaw was clenched so tight I couldn’t speak. The head of the cock pressed against my plug first, and for a moment, I thought it would just get stuck—like the plug was part of me, a foreign body fighting off a second invader. But then she pushed.
The sensation wasn’t pain—it was worse. It was pressure, a splitting kind of fullness as the strapon rammed into the plug, forcing it deeper while the base of the cock pushed past the plug entirely. I’m not a small guy, but her hips felt like a truck running over me, each thrust making the plug rub furiously against my insides. “That’s it,” she said, grunting with effort. “You want more? Take it.” She didn’t wait for a response. She grabbed my ass and slammed up, faster now, the cock hammering through the plug and into me all at once.
I screamed, not the kind from a porn movie, but the real thing—voice cracking, tears burning my eyes. The plug was still inside me, wedged between the strapon and my prostate, a triple layer of intrusion. I felt my hole stretch into something raw, the lube mixing with my own sweat to make her cock slide even slicker. “You like being punished,” Jess said, bending down to whisper in my ear. “Say it.” I couldn’t. I could barely breathe.
Scene three: the finish. Jess kept going until her orgasm hit, her whole body tensing up like a cat. The strapon pulsed inside me, spurting a warm jolt that made my ass twitch. She let me feel every drip of cum on the plug, every tiny tremor of her muscles. Then she yanked the strapon out, and the plug snapped free, a wet pop echoing in the room. I couldn’t move for a minute. My wrists were raw, my ass felt like it was made of fire, and my stomach was empty, like the cock had taken something I wasn’t supposed to lose.
She leaned over me, licking the sweat from my neck. “That’s your punishment,” she said, smirking. “Check out this video if you want more of this kind of vibe.” I could barely nod. My legs refused to support me as she helped me up. The toilet was my new best friend. When I looked in the mirror after, my hole was red, the skin around it raw and shiny. I texted her a shaky photo. She replied: “You’re beautiful like that. See more stories here if you’re curious.”
I still can’t figure out why it felt so fucking good. Pain and punishment don’t mix in my brain, but with the plug there, splitting me apart like an animal gut, it lit up something primal. Jess knows how to wreck me. And I’m already begging to feel that plug in me again.
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