3 hours...

He popped home from lunch to sentence me to 3 hours, and then went back to work.

Sounds like not much, until you consider, that’s how long I was “sentenced” to wear a plug made of ginger for.

I watched him carve it, protesting.

“Why?” I asked.

He shrugged in response. “Because I can.”

And that...is enough. He can.

As I sit here writing, I have plug carved from ginger root inserted into my asshole. I can’t sit still, I’m wriggling. It’s hot, it stings like hell, my bottom feels heated, and I swear he picked the biggest ginger root we had to force inside me. Walking feels funny and there isn’t a moment I don’t remember I’m wearing it. (T-minus 2 ½ hours…)

As he forced it into my protesting sphincter, he apologized that it was so cold but told me I’d warm up. He told me the rules. I can remove it at 4pm unless he calls and gives me permission to remove it earlier. I can remove it if I need to use the restroom, but then need to replace it. I can remove it if for some reason it interferes with my ability to care for the baby.

I protested that he wasn’t even here to enjoy it, and he put my hand against his very erect cock, telling me he was enjoying it whether or not he was home.  He told me to think often about how he'd fuck my ass tonight, filling it with something much bigger than the ginger, and that he was pondering making me carve a second plug for later. He told me he hoped I was looking forward to our anniversary on the 15th when the vaginal sex ban will be lifted...and hinted it might go back into effect on the 16th.

And then he told me to thank him for the reminder he’d given me that my ass belonged to him.

“Thank you,” I whispered quietly. I was confused. I didn’t like the ginger, but I didn’t feel resentful even if it made walking a bizarre ordeal. It burned like hell and he wasn’t even here to enjoy it.But him forcing me to thank him...

When did he learn how to push my buttons so well? (T-minus 2 hours 5 minutes…)