Page 46 of Shameful Needs
Inside the box, nestled in black silk, was a metal butt plug. It was beautiful in a terrible way—polished steel with an elegant flared base set with what looked like a real emerald. The sight of it made my stomach clench with recognition and shameful arousal.
“No,” I whimpered, my voice breaking. “Please, Ryan, I don’t need that. I’ll remember everything, I promise.”
“Will you?” he asked, his voice carrying that dangerous calm that meant he’d already made his decision. “Because just this morning you were still lying to me about who you really are. I think you need a constant reminder of your place.”
I felt his finger withdraw from my anus, leaving me feeling empty and exposed. The cool air against my stretched opening made me shiver as I heard him removing the plug from its velvet housing.
“This will stay in until bedtime,” Ryan informed me matter-of-factly. “Every time you move, every time you sit, you’ll remember that you’re my ass girl. That your body belongs to me completely.”
I tried to clench my bottom shut, some instinctive part of me rebelling against this final claiming. But Ryan’s hand settledfirmly on my lower back, holding me in position as I felt the cool metal pressing against my tender opening.
“Relax,” he commanded sternly. “Fighting it will only make it worse.”
The plug was much larger than his finger, and I gasped as he began to work it inside me. The metal was cold and unyielding, nothing like the warm flesh I’d grown accustomed to. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood as he pushed it deeper, my body stretching to accommodate the intrusion.
“Please,” I sobbed, my hands gripping the couch cushions desperately. “Please, sir… I can’t?—”
“Of course you can,” Ryan said firmly, continuing to press the plug forward. “Your body was made for this, Heather. Made to be filled and used by your husband. You took my cock just this afternoon.”
I cried out as the widest part of the plug passed the tight ring and settled into place, the flared base nestling against my bottom as my body clenched helplessly around the cold metal. The sensation was overwhelming—not just the physical invasion, but the psychological weight of what it represented. I was plugged, marked, claimed in the most intimate way possible.
“Perfect,” Ryan murmured, his hand stroking my burning cheeks possessively. “Now you look like what you are—my properly prepared ass girl.”
I sobbed against the couch cushions, my entire body trembling as I tried to adjust to the foreign presence inside me. Every tiny movement sent jolts of sensation through my core, reminding me of my complete submission to my husband’s will.
“Stand up,” he commanded, and I struggled to obey on shaking legs. The plug shifted with every movement, making me gasp as I straightened. “Good. Now put on your apron and make dinner.”
My eyes widened in shock. He wanted me to cook? Like this? Naked except for an apron, with a metal plug buried in my bottom?
“Sir,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please… not with this thing inside me?”
“Don’t talk back, ass girl,” Ryan said firmly. “The apron is hanging in the kitchen where it always is. You’ll cook for me properly from now on—naked, plugged, and grateful for the opportunity to serve.”
I walked toward the kitchen on unsteady legs, each step sending the plug deeper, making me whimper with the constant reminder of my submission. The simple white apron hung on its usual hook, and I tied it around my waist with trembling fingers. The thin cotton barely covered my breasts and left my bottom completely exposed, the jeweled base of the plug, I felt sure, catching the light and sparkling as Ryan watched me.
As I stood at the counter considering what to prepare, something strange happened. Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body, I found myself actually focusing on the meal in a way I never had before. I wanted to please Ryan, wanted to show him I could be the kind of wife he deserved. Not the lying, deceptive woman I’d been, but someone worthy of his dominance.
I chose chicken Marsala—his favorite dish that I’d always made carelessly before, more concerned with getting it over with than making it special. But now I found myself pounding the chicken carefully, seasoning the breasts with extra care, taking time to properly brown them before adding the wine and mushrooms. Every movement sent jolts through my plugged bottom, but instead of distracting me, it seemed to focus my attention on the task at hand.
I’d managed to overcook the angel hair pasta Ryan liked with the chicken every time, but tonight nothing was good enoughexcept perfection. I took the pasta out and drained it right on schedule. I tasted and adjusted the seasoning in the Marsala sauce, added herbs with careful consideration, plated everything with an attention to presentation I’d never shown.
When everything was ready, I carried the plates into the dining room, my heart racing with nervous anticipation. But when I entered the dining room, my breath caught in my throat. Ryan had moved my chair away from the table entirely, pushing it against the far wall where it sat like an abandoned piece of furniture.
“Put the food on the table,” he said without looking up from his phone, his voice carrying that casual authority that made my stomach flutter. “Then kneel next to my chair.”
CHAPTER 22
Heather
My hands trembledas I set the plates down, the careful presentation I’d worked so hard on suddenly seeming insignificant. The plug shifted inside me as I bent to place his dinner in front of him, sending a jolt of sensation through my core that made me gasp softly.
“I said kneel,” Ryan repeated, his eyes finally meeting mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.
I sank down beside his chair, the cool hardwood floor against my bare knees a vivid indication of my new position. The apron rode up as I settled into place, and I felt completely exposed despite the thin cotton covering my front. The plug pressed deeper as I adjusted my posture, making me whimper quietly.
“Good girl,” Ryan murmured, his hand settling on top of my head as he began to cut his chicken. “This is how you’ll eat dinner from now on when we’re alone. At my feet, waiting for me to feed you.”
I stared up at him in shock, my mouth falling open. “You’re going to… feed me?”
