Assumptions

Bear had been ill for weeks, waiting for surgery. I was still feeling horny, and given that I was free to do so, bought some toys: A new tail, XLarge instead of Medium, and a harness to hold it in place.

XLarge. Why on Earth XLarge? Partially a matter of my eyes being bigger than my butt. And partially because I had this idea that I should “take more than I could give.” I have a Medium tail, and it’s just a little bit thinner around than I am. The Large is just a hair thicker than me, and the XLarge is ridiculous. I’ll spare you the math: 8 inches around means a bit over 2-and-a-half inches wide. Jeebus.

When the toys arrived, I had some modification to do first. The harness comes with a fixed cock-ring, which is cheap and ugly, and too small for comfort for me to boot. I cut off the rivets holding it in place and replaced those with snaps. If you’re getting the harness and you don’t like putzing around with leather hardware, be warned you might not like that cock-ring.

And in the tail went, with a river of lube and a lot of patience. I started panting, I whimpered, I dropped to my knees and tried crawling away from it, which I knew wouldn’t help any but did anyway. After what felt like five minutes but was probably only one, I took it out again, and after a bit of a breather, tried again. With the same results. And gave up on wearing this for any length of time for the moment.

A day or so later, I recounted that tale to Bear. “You did what?” he asked. Bought a toy, I said. I thought I was free to do so. “I don’t want you using that. You should have checked with me first,” Bear said. I apologized. I didn’t know I had to check, but I should have done so anyway.  Then Bear explained his concern. “I don’t want you stretching your ass,” he said. “You might get too loose for me.”

Whoof. I hadn’t expected that. I loved it. I felt that submissive tingle. When Bear says things like that, I feel owned. That’s a good thing, in my world. More intense than that toy in my ass, though in a very different way.

I checked in about a few other things I had been thinking about, to make sure I didn’t go against Bear’s wishes with those. So, no, no pictures of “toys in use” on this blog, no “naked Thursday” or other shenanigans. “That’s for me alone,” Bear said. Also, no attempts at increasing the size of my cock (*). “I don’t know,” Bear said. “I guess you can. It’d make it more difficult for me to suck you if you get thicker, but I hardly do that now because my jaw starts hurting. So do it if you want to.” Can you blame me for taking that as a “I’d really rather not if it would mean discomfort for Bear”?

After I had let that settle for a few days, I told Bear that I felt owned. Though I understood that formally I am not, because he says I am not. And I asked him what he thought it’d take for him to feel comfortable making it formal. He doesn’t know, he said. He’ll know it when he’s there. If that point comes for him.

What does that even mean, to be owned? Other than being a head game? Is there a practical side to it? I have no clue. But I have a feeling, and that is: It means focusing on serving Bear. Doing things to make his life easier and more pleasant, being useful to him. That I can work on. Day by day.

For a few weeks after that, my libido was at a low point with Bear being in pain.

That surgery I mentioned, Bear has had now, and he’s feeling much better, to my relief. My libido recovered as Bear did. That was an interesting experience, to see my desire so linked to his well-being. Never mind that I hadn’t come for weeks, I wasn’t interested until Bear was better.

 

(*) The Internet suggests exercises. Some people have had moderate success. I had this idea that submitting with a big cock would be somehow more meaningful than submitting with just a thick cock. Don’t ask me where that one came from. It doesn’t make sense to me, either.

 

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