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When I first met Donald I had this enormous hangup about the bathroom realm of D&S. My family was an extremely private family (we shut the door, we locked the door, we put a chair in front of the door, we turned on the fan, and we ran water in the sink--and THAT was just what we did to pee!) and I suspect (because of my hangup, not because I remember) that I had lousy toilet training. As is his way with most areas where there is a difference between what he wants and what I am comfortable with, he began to very slowly, very gradually, get me more used to the fact that certain natural bodily functions I had formerly called my own weren't private anymore. This was an area of great distress for me, so he went very, very slowly, starting out with talking, "Someday, I'm going to sit down in there with you when you pee," to small actions (don't lock the bathroom door--just this one time) to larger actions (leave the door halfway open this time); to more talking (let's fantasize about your doggy training--you know you're going to have to go on the paper, don't you?). Eventually (about three years later), I reached a point where I could squat over a bucket with him nearby watching, and pee into it. I was able to fully savor the humiliation inherent in this situation for someone with my background without being overwhelmed by it--a big step forward for me.

The same gradual process was undertaken with my anus. We started out with my just holding my cheeks open and exposing my asshole to him. That was initially unbearable, but as I slowly became used to it, Donald continuted his process of desensitizing me by starting to comment explicitly and humiliatingly about what he saw. He told me that someday I would be able to take a butt plug and someday an enema without a lot of mental anguish. I was highly doubtful about the first, and absolutely disbelieving about the second (still am too--at least about the second item ). Eventually, he was touching my asshole around the edges, then gently inserting his finger, then rubbing lubrication all over my buttocks and on the surface of my anus, then poking his finger roughly and quickly up my ass while saying "Ding Dong! Is anybody home? DING-DONG!", then one day he tried a little butt plug and I freaked out. I was so terrified and repulsed by the idea of the plug going up inside me _there_ that I tightened up, which was a big mistake because the resultant cramping was excruciating. But more than the cramping was the psychological revulsion: horror, shock, intense, intense embarassment at having such a personal private area invaded. He left it alone for awhile (at least a year and a half, probably longer) but continued to talk to me about butt plugs and enemas and ass-play, and one day...I was just ready. I can't remember if he initiated the action or if I just asked for it, but it isn't really important. I was taking a butt plug, and while not actually enjoying it, I was bearing it and I wasn't cramping up.

Then, one terrible eve, my lovely sweet darling god-dammed cruel sadistic @#!$&!! Donald discovered that if turned the plug around 360 degrees while it was inside me, he got a spectacular reaction. For some reason, my body interprets that sensation as the kinetic equivalent of fingernails scraping down a chalkboard. It isn't pain, but it is an intensely uncomfortable sensation, one that I HATE and one that dear Donald now engages in everytime he puts a butt plug in me: "Oh, whoops, Rosie! Silly me! I seem to have put the thing in upside-down! Here, hold on a second and I'll fix everything!" Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! "Uh oh! Dear, dear me! It looks like I had it right the first time...here I'll just fix that right up, I know you don't want to have a butt plug inserted in you the wrong way!" If Don pulls the butt plug out after twisting it around in this way, I cannot prevent myself from vigorously shaking my tail for about 30-60 seconds--somehow it helps to make that awful irritating feeling go away. Unfortunately for me, I think that this shaking-off behavior, which my lord and master responds to with chortles of glee, motivates him to do it even more. What we poor slaves have to put up with! I tell you!

As I grew more and more familiar with the size of the butt plug, I discovered to my great surprise that I was starting to like, not just to tolerate, the sensations of it moving inside me. I especially liked it when he spanked me with his hand or with something broad and heavy, like a wooden paddle, as that pushed the butt plug deliciously deep. One day I asked him if he would simply pound on the plug a little with his fist. He did so, lightly at first, and then when he saw how excited it was making me, he began pounding much harder and much faster. And I discovered heaven . When he stopped after a couple minutes, I begged him desparately to continue. The sensation was (and is) the most intensely pleasurable, delicious, delightful, erotic physical sensation I have ever experienced in my life. It feels better than masturbating with a vibrator, hell, it's better than an orgasm. I get so close to the edge. Real close. And then I stay there as long as he continues to pound the butt plug into me. And when he stops pounding, it's like the end of the world. I beg and beg and beg him to continue, I almost start to cry with desire and frustration, and sometimes he gives me a little more (but never very much--he claims he doesn't want to spoil me). Other times, he just turns me around and makes me have a boring old orgasm. Still other times (and these are my favorites) he alternates very heavy whippings and canings with the poundings. And that's just incredible. I swear, I don't know which I get wetter from...nor which is more intense! Sometimes I even forget who I am, and that's especially nice. I turn into this anonymous little ball of need crying: more, more, more! I wonder if fisting feels this good?

One word of safety/caution: I have to be pretty relaxed before Donald can push the plug into me that hard. If he just started out smashing it in without any preliminary and gentle movements, I would experience terrible pains. He builds up to the intense pounding very slowly and gradually, giving my rectum time to adjust so it won't cramp up. Now if only he would do that when he whips me! Guess I just don't have him trained well enough!