Moments from Earth: Perfect

[a cute, colored, cartoony illustration in the floral section of a craft store, with fake flowers and vases and a sign for 40% off arrangements. A woman with pink pigtails in a Hawaiian shirt is blushing, with an excited little heart coming out of her head as she points something out. A non-binary person holding a basket has very short hair, and is wearing a medical mask with a bear face. The latter is side-eying a conservatively-dressed gray-haired person, who is glaring really hard at her.]

cw: D/s, consensual ownership talk, mention of chemo, mention of kink honorifics including ‘daddy,’ craft stores

Update to this post: My partner now uses they/them pronouns.

I love the idea of wearing a plug. It appeals to every submissive little bone in my body. I have a mighty kink for feeling (consensually) owned. The idea that my asexual-but-kinky partner could lay a claim to me sexually without even touching me is incredibly appealing. I never really planned to wear one out anywhere, though some of our text roleplay sessions and the erotic writings that we share featured scenarios like that. I just wanted one in for spanking sessions, for hanging around the house, for masturbation.

My first plug could not have possibly fulfilled that, as it couldn’t stay in place. My second plug, a white-label silicone princess plug from a now-defunct online store (but looks more or less like this), was also uncomfortable for wearing for any length of time due to the shape of the base. I had a few plugs I’d thought about buying, ones that might solve the issue, but I can’t take very large toys, and my bank account can’t take very large purchases if I don’t know that they’ll work for me.

However, there was one I was deliberating over buying, as my sex toy budget’s gotten a little bit less restrictive. As I was deliberating, a Twitter friend asked if anyone would be interested in buying some sanitized second-hand toys that she didn’t really like. And there it was, the exact toy I’d been Googling and debating. It was like fate, except it involved my butt. Butt-fate. I purchased it almost immediately, sending money with no hesitation. As I told her, if you can’t trust strangers selling second-hand sex toys on the Internet, who can you trust?

The Perfect Plug by Tantus is a small, narrow plug, comparable in size to The Li’l End but with considerable and important differences. Instead of a slim tapered piece, the Perfect Plug has a wasp-waisted shape that adds some interesting sensation upon insertion. There’s an actual distinction between the size of the insertable shaft and the neck that connects the base. The base itself is very narrow, but sturdy. The silicone is velvety, but still very smooth, and like the other Tantus toy I have, a little lube seems to go a long way, rather than getting sucked into the silicone, never to be seen again.

[The Perfect Plug by Tantus in purple, surrounded by purple nail polish and purple toe-separators.]

When it arrives early one morning, I know I have a busy day ahead, so I expect to admire it for a moment, then put it aside until I can test it properly. Sometime soon I’ll masturbate with it, and then maybe keep it in for a few minutes to see what I think.

Damien, however, has other ideas. She looks it over, then hands it to me. “Go try it out,” she says. “Put it in, then sit down and have the rest of your coffee.”

I’m an obedient girl, particularly when it’s something I actively want to do.

The tip is very small, and even the widest portion of the shaft is less than an inch wide, but I’m still surprised when my finicky ass accepts it so easily. The base fits between my butt cheeks, rather than jamming uncomfortably into them like all of my previous plugs. I can’t even feel the base once it’s in place.

I can, however, feel the rest of it. It doesn’t jab or stab, and there’s no discomfort. But it moves when I move, and never allows me to ignore it.

I go back into the living room and sit down for the rest of my coffee. I report my thoughts so far, and she gives me the knee-melting dominant smirk. “Sounds like fun,” she says. I wear it until I’ve finished coffee, maybe 15 minutes, and then take it out to go about my day. Every now and again, I think of the plug again, and wonder when I’ll try it again.

That night we talk about our day and our plans for the next, flirting and joking the whole time, as we usually do. I joke about wearing the plug out in public sometime—a half-joke, the kind of joke meant for testing the waters.

“We have to go to Hobby Lobby tomorrow morning,” she says, without hesitation. “Wear it then.”

She drives the long way there.

[The Perfect Plug standing on its base on top of a plastic paint palette, surrounded by craft supplies, including a fabric measuring tape, a paintbrush, washi tape, lace ribbon, and some tubs of acrylic paint.]

Our D/s dynamic is 24/7, but in public we tone it down. I might ask to be excused, but I word it like I’m making sure she doesn’t mind being alone, not like I’m asking permission. I might call her ‘ma’am’ quietly in the grocery store, because it’s the South and no one blinks at that sort of thing, but I’m certainly not going to call her ‘Daddy.’ But the dynamic is always there, hovering at the edges, flavoring our conversation. The knowledge soothes me when I’m anxious; it reminds her when she’s worried that there’s at least one thing in her life that she can control. Still, it slips, a little, when we’re out and we’re tired, sometimes pretending we’re not even dating. And that’s fine. Even in a dynamic like ours, you can’t be on all the time, and we both know that.

But with the plug in, I cannot forget. It’s a constant presence even when I’m sitting still, a cool object inside of me that reminds me, she told me to wear this, and I obeyed. And when I’m moving, it moves, just a little. It doesn’t quite feel like it’s fucking me, and I’d never come from the plug alone, but the sensations are relentless. Though it’s in my ass, my vagina is hyper aware as well. I’ve been horny in public before, but this is different. This can’t be ignored. She told me to wear this.

We walk around Hobby Lobby. She wears a face mask as a precaution, because her chemo can affect her immune system, and her words are slightly muffled but still audible. Instrumental versions of the hymns I grew up with play in the background, piety through Muzak. We pick out some silver lamé for another toy’s photoshoot, and we look at some wood she needs for one of her projects. We go through the framed décor of watercolor llamas and cursive Bible verses. She gets a dirty look from some Boomer for her shaven (but not yet bald) head and the bear mouth printed on her mask. I’m ignored. And at no point throughout any of this do I forget that the plug is there. The vases and furniture feel like a dream. The plug and her ownership are the reality. She told me to wear this.

We don’t have a traditional sex life, but I still belong to her sexually, because we’d agreed that was the case. At the moment, I feel owned, completely. By the time we get back to the car, I’m flustered, and I feel halfway to something like subspace, and she hasn’t even touched me. Only now, after an hour of wearing it, is it starting to get uncomfortable, with the very slightest ache from something unfamiliar inside of me for so long.

We drive home, and I take it out, sanitize it, and put it away. We have more errands that can’t be put off, and I suggest skipping aftercare because I feel fine, but she won’t hear of it, even on the go—she gets me a snack and some water, and we speak quietly in the car. Later, she insists we get some ice cream, and while I know it’s just to make sure I’m okay, it feels like a reward for being such a good girl. For being her good girl.

[The Perfect Plug surrounded by pink and purple makeup, including a purple highlight pan, some purple lipsticks, rainbow-chrome tweezers, and a purple tray full of eyeshadow containers.]


This posts began life as a review, so let me note a few things. The Perfect Plug isn’t (despite the name) entirely perfect. The person who sold it to me didn’t like the small size. My partner, when she tried it, wasn’t sure she liked the sensations it gave. Also, unlike some of my butt toys, even after a brief usage the silicone blend seems to cling to smells unless I take extra cleaning steps (which does take some of the romance out, I’ll admit). But for me? It’s exactly what I need, and the cleaning isn’t annoying enough to detract from that. It’s small enough for me to handle, and I can wear it for a long while like in this adventure, or for a few minutes while masturbating or getting spanked. For anyone who wants a wearable, small plug, whether for anal training or just for fun, this is probably a good choice to try. Buy in black from SheVibe or buy directly from Tantus.

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Moments from Earth is my series of personal non-fiction concerning my life on this strange little planet. Read more Moments | Support Queer Earthling

One comment

  1. This is a great post!! I cracked up at “butt-fate”. I’m so glad it works not just as a plug for general use, but also as an accomplice to discreet public D/s. That’s awesome. Your description of the ownership feels made me feel all mushy and happy for y’all XD (secondhand happiness for someone else’s D/s dynamic = cool in a different way from secondhand sex toys?)

    Also that illustration is so cute!!


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