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Booty Call : Plugging (F/M) Part 3 of 4 (Buttplug)

Myra tries a buttplug at Tristan's behest.



"Dinner?" Myra repeats like she hasn't heard correctly.


"Yeah, dinner. My treat, even," Tristan says in that easy way he says most things. "But before we go…"


"I put the buttplug… in?"


"Mm, exactly." He smiles and touches her arm encouragingly.


She frowns. "And it won't be uncomfortable?"


Tristan considers it for a moment. "Maybe a bit, but the one I got for you is designed for this, plus the benefits outweigh the discomfort, I think."


Myra lets her mind wander to the aforementioned 'benefits'... Excitement races, making her skin tingle. "All right," she says. "I'm game."


"I knew you would be," Tristan says. He leans in and kisses her forehead. "Do you want help getting it in?"


"I feel like you're going to help me later, with getting it out."


He chuckles. "Fair enough, you got me. Okay, you, get going," he says, patting her ass.


The plug is not too big, but it's definitely not tiny. It's black, tapered nicely, and Myra has to admit it does look better than others she's seen. Designed with the wearer's comfort in mind instead of their discomfort, which often seems to be the case with this kind of gear.


She gathers the thick, gel-like lubricant from the top drawer in the bathroom (Tristan has this kind of lube in most of his drawers, which is oddly endearing) and drops her flowy pants. Myra didn't wear underwear today, knowing Tristan had something up his sleeve and not wanting to impede the fun. She'd really been hoping she was going to get fucked, but, that had to be coming later.


After she's lubed up the butt plug, she takes a few deep breaths. She's had things in her ass before, but never for an extended period of time and never with such… intention.


Myra leans forward against the bathroom sink and slides the plug in. It's an intrusion, of course, but not an unwelcome one.


She pulls her pants back up and meets Tristan by the door.


"Well?"


"It's in," she promises.


"I can tell."


"Was I walking funny?" Myra frowns. "I hope not, I --"


He chuckles. "No, but you've got that glow."


"The 'I've got something stuck up my ass' glow?"


"Precisely," he says with his soft, gorgeous grin. "Now, before we leave, can I check?"


"You don't trust me?" she pouts, half kidding.


Tristan rolls his eyes. "Dramatic girl. Of course I do, I just… need to see it."


Myra shrugs and reaches her pants, but he catches her wrist and spins her, facing her against the wall and bending her forward to brace herself on it. He sweeps down her pants in one graceful movement and she can feel his thumb ghosting down the crack of her butt a moment later. The man wastes no time.


He gives the toy a little tug, making her moan loudly at the unexpected movement.


"Good," he murmurs. "So, you feel that?"


"Yeah," she grits out, trying not to whine like the needy whore she is.


"How about this?" he asks, twisting it slightly.


"Mhmm." She succeeds less this time at holding the whine in.


"Good girl, with such a good little asshole." It's praise, albeit weirdly specific, so Myra just soaks it up.


"Did you know…" Tristan says conversationally, placing a small kiss on each of her bare ass cheeks. "That I plan to fuck your delicious, perfect ass until you can forget you can cum any other way?"


Myra gasps, startled, turned on, and suddenly throbbing. "Ye-eah?" she manages.


"But later," he says, pulling her pants back up for her and brushing her hair over her shoulder. "Let's go."



Dinner is an event. The food and wine is wonderful, the service attentive but not intrusive, and all the while, Tristan massages and squeezes her thigh, reminding her now and then to clench, never letting her mind wander too far from the toy in her ass.


"What do you think? Dessert? And squeeze for me?" he asks, casual and light. Myra can feel a bead of sweat trickling down her back, but she clenches down on the toy in her ass.


"If you want," she says. "I'm, um… ready to go."


"No need to rush, my wisp, we could linger."


"Let's go," she repeats, a little more desperate. The plug doesn't hurt, but it's got her worked into a state. If she doesn't get fucked soon, like he promised, she will lose her mind.


Tristan clearly knows this, because he laughs. "All right, all right, let's get you somewhere more private."


He takes her back to his place, and to her surprise (and disappointment), doesn't fling her down on the bed. He takes her into the kitchen and pours them each a glass of water before he settles into a chair at the table.


"C'mere," he says, patting his knee.


Myra sits carefully, starting to have an inkling of what he's planning. She's proven right a moment later when Tristan takes her hips in his large, strong hands. He holds her firmly and guides her, pressing the plug into her, rocking her on it. Her asshole is tired and feels, well, loose from clenching around the toy and the movement makes her protest and shudder and beg all at once.


"Tristan -- please, oh god, please, I can't --"


"Can't what? Can't stand another second without my cock inside your stretched out little hole?"


"You promised!" she whines, gasping and biting her lip as he rocks her again.


"I did. I said later. Maybe it's not 'later' yet."


"Fuck me," she demands.


"Wait patiently, or wait indefinitely," he counters. "Which is it?"


Myra groans in frustration, knowing by his tone it's an unwinnable argument. She lets her head fall forward to rest on his shoulder while she worries at her lip.


"There you go," he murmurs. "Take it like a good slut and you'll get what you need, baby."


She knows it's going to be a long, interesting night.




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