A wave of dizziness washed through me, making the room tilt. I gripped the mattress harder, my fingers digging into the comforter as I tried to steady myself. The position forced my back to arch naturally, my bottom rising higher, and I felt suddenly, acutely aware of how exposed I was. How naughty the pose looked. How deliberate it seemed, like I was offering myself for exactly what Mike intended to do to me.
The realization sent new heat flooding through my body, centered behind the terrible, tight line that closed the furrow of my labia.
I reached for the tube of lubricant with a trembling hand, fumbling with the cap. It took three tries to get it open, my fingers slippery with nervous sweat. When I finally managed it, I squeezed a generous amount onto my right hand, watching the clear gel pool in my palm.
This was it. This was really happening. I was about to touch myself there, prepare myself there, for ‘training’ by a man I’d met this afternoon.
With a sob that came from somewhere deep in my chest—shame and need twisted together so tightly I couldn’t separate them—I reached my right hand between my legs. My fingers found the tight pucker of my anus, and the moment I made contact, I cried out.
The sensitivity was shocking. Overwhelming. As if the seal on my pussy had somehow redirected all sensation to this forbidden place, making every nerve ending there hyperaware. Even the lightest touch sent sparks of sensation radiating outward, and I felt my whole body shudder.
“Oh, god,” I whimpered, my left hand pressing harder against the bed for support.
I bent further, arched deeper, presenting myself more completely. The motion was instinctive, my body knowing what it needed even as my mind rebelled. My finger circled the tight opening, spreading the lube, and I felt myself clench against the touch.
“No… no… no…” The words fell from my lips in a whispered litany as I pressed my fingertip against the resistance. The muscle fought back, refusing entry, and I had to take a shaky breath and try to relax.
“You look so, so beautiful, Laura, you naughty little slut.”
Mike’s voice came from the doorway, and I froze. I hadn’t heard him approach, hadn’t known he was watching. My face blazed like a bonfire as I realized he’d seen everything—the way I’d arched my back, the desperate sob, my finger working between my legs.
“Keep going,” he said, his voice warm with approval. “Don’t stop on my account.”
My finger pushed past the ring of muscle, and I gasped at the intrusion. The sensation was strange—not quite pain, but an intense pressure that made my sealed pussy throb with renewed need. I worked my finger deeper, the lube making the glide easier, and felt my hips rock forward involuntarily.
“That’s it,” Mike murmured. “In and out now. Just get used to how nice it feels to have something there because your sponsor wants it that way.”
I turned my head over my shoulder, needing to see his expression, needing some anchor in the storm of sensation overwhelming me.
“Eyes forward,” Mike commanded, his voice sharp.
I snapped my gaze back to the wall in front of me, my heart hammering. The loss of visual contact made everything worse—or better, I couldn’t tell which. I could hear him behind me, could sense his presence watching as I worked my lubed finger in and out of my bottom hole, but I couldn’t see him. Couldn’t gauge his reaction. Couldn’t prepare for what he might do next.
The power dynamic crashed over me with devastating clarity. He was standing there fully clothed, completely in control, watching me perform this obscene act because he’d told me to. Because he owned me. Because I’d accepted his money and given him the right to make me do whatever he wanted.
And to my absolute horror, I felt fresh wetness gathering at the tiny opening at the bottom of my seal as I thought it through. The arousal was unmistakable, trickling out in response to my own degradation. My pussy clenched hard, trying desperately to find sensation that the seal prevented, and I realized with dawning shame that this—being made to finger my own bottom while my sponsor watched—was turning me on more than anything I’d ever experienced.
Because he told me to, I thought, the realization hitting me so hard I felt dizzy.I’m doing this because my sponsor commanded it, and that’s what makes it so intense.
Having him make me do it somehow amplified everything. The need in my sealed pussy, the desperate aching throb, the way my whole body trembled with frustrated arousal—all of it was more urgent because I wasn’t choosing this. Because he’d decided it was time for me to learn, and I had no choice but to obey.
“Add another finger,” Mike said from behind me.
I whimpered but obeyed, squeezing more lube onto my hand and working a second finger in alongside the first. The stretch was immediate and uncomfortable, my body resisting the intrusion. I had to go slowly, breathing through the discomfort, my left hand gripping the mattress so hard my knuckles went white.
“Focus on how it feels,” Mike instructed, his voice taking on the patient, teaching quality. “The stretching. How despite the discomfort, it’s adding to your arousal.”
He was right. God help me, he was right. The fullness, the slight burning sensation as my body accommodated both fingers—it sent sparks of pleasure mixed with discomfort straight to my sealed pussy. I felt myself clench rhythmically, my hips rocking forward in that involuntary seeking motion I’d learned earlier.
“When I fuck your ass,” Mike continued, and the crude words made me clench around my fingers, “that stretching will help you feel proud, even when I’m using you hard, going deep. Proud that you can serve a man’s darkest desires that way. That you can take what he needs to give you.”
The thought sent a new wave of need coursing through my nervous system. I worked both fingers deeper, my breath coming in ragged gasps as the discomfort slowly transformed into something else. Something that made my sealed pussy throb with desperate need.
“Now take the plug,” Mike said, and his voice was suddenly much closer. Right behind me. “Put it in your bottom.”
I glanced at the small silicone plug sitting on the bed in front of me, then reached for it with trembling fingers. My other hand withdrew from my anus, leaving me feeling oddly empty. I positioned the tapered tip against my lubed opening and began to push.
To my surprise, it slid in easily—much easier than I’d expected after working my fingers there. The plug was designed for this, I realized, the gradual taper allowing my body to adjust and accommodate. I felt the widest part stretch me briefly, and then the plug seated itself fully, my muscles closing around the narrow neck.
