Chapter 21: Anya makes Alex try on dildo
The week that followed was a study in strange normalcy. Annie was tender, attentive, almost clingy. She cooked elaborate meals, dragged Alex on long walks along the shore, and held his hand under restaurant tables with a fierce possessiveness. They didn’t speak directly about what had happened with Marcus, but it lived in the spaces between their words, in the loaded way she’d say “my good boy” when he took out the trash, or the intensity of her gaze when he’d emerge from the shower.
It was Claire who shattered the delicate equilibrium.
She burst into their Saturday afternoon like a champagne cork, all kinetic energy and loud laughter. “You two look domestically blissful and it’s boring me,” she declared, flopping onto their sofa. “We’re going shopping.”
“For what?” Alex asked, looking up from his laptop. He’d grown fond of Claire’s whirlwind presence, even if it was occasionally terrifying.
“For toys, Cucky,” she said, her green eyes sparkling. “Annie texted me. Said you’re ready to upgrade the arsenal.”
Alex felt his ears grow hot. He looked at Annie, who was leaning in the doorway, a small, unreadable smile on her face. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. This was her doing. She’d invited this.
“Claire thinks we need… guidance,” Annie said, her voice light.
“I think you need equipment,” Claire corrected, standing up. “C’mon. There’s a place in Hillcrest that’s discreet and has the good shit. None of that red plastic nonsense.”
The shop was nothing like the seedy places Alex had imagined. It was sleek, dimly lit, and quiet, more like a high-end boutique than a sex store. The air smelled of sandalwood and clean leather. Racks of luxurious lingerie stood beside glass cases displaying artisanal silicone sculptures. Soft, ambient music covered the hushed conversations of a few other couples browsing.
A salesgirl with purple hair and a serene smile approached. “Can I help you find anything today?”
“We’re browsing,” Annie said politely, but Claire cut in.
“We need a statement piece. Something with… presence.”
Alex’s skin prickled. He felt profoundly out of place, a tourist in a land whose language he was only beginning to stumble through. He stayed close to Annie, his anchor in the strange sea of velvet-lined paddles and intricate bondage harnesses.
Claire, however, was in her element. She moved with a curator’s confidence, picking up items, examining them, and putting them down with a knowing hum. She held up a set of leather cuffs linked by a short chain. “These are nice. Practical.” She winked at Alex.
He swallowed.
They turned a corner into a section dominated by shelves of dildos, arranged like obscene sculptures in a modern art gallery. There were every colors and sizes, some realistic, some fantastical. Claire stopped before a particular shelf, her gaze calculating. She reached out and picked one up. It was jet black, thick, and intimidatingly long.
She turned, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Annie. Come here.”
Annie drifted over, her expression curious. Claire held the black dildo upright, then, without a word, stepped closer to Alex. She held it beside his face, aligning it next to his flushed cheek. The silicone was cool against his skin.
He froze, his blood roaring in his ears.
Claire leaned in toward Annie, her voice a theatrical whisper that was perfectly audible to him and, he realized with horror, to the salesgirl tidying a shelf a few feet away. “This one’s Marcus-sized.”
Time stopped. The soft music, the scent of sandalwood, the low lights—all of it receded into a buzzing void. There was only the cool pressure of the toy against his face, the wicked sparkle in Claire’s eyes, and the look on Annie’s face. She wasn’t shocked. She was considering it. Her head tilted, her blue eyes studying the comparison with a detached, artistic interest.
A faint, stifled snort came from the salesgirl. She coughed, turning away, her shoulders shaking slightly.
Humiliation, hot and acid-sharp, flooded Alex’s veins. Yet, beneath it, coiling like a snake in his gut, was a pang of raw, undeniable arousal. The public slight, the reduction to a measuring stick, the confirmation of Marcus’s superior scale—it was a direct feed to the secret shame he’d nursed for years.
Annie reached out, not for the toy, but to cup Alex’s other cheek. Her thumb stroked his skin, a soothing contrast to the violation of the comparison. “It’s a bit much for a first time, don’t you think, Claire?” Her voice was calm, conversational.
“You don’t buy a Ferrari to drive it in a school zone,” Claire shrugged, finally lowering the dildo. She read the box. “Oh, it’s dual-density. Nice. Feels real.”
“We’re not getting that,” Annie said firmly, but her eyes stayed on Alex, reading the storm in his expression. “But maybe… something else. Something for him.”
The focus shifted. Claire’s interest sharpened. “For him? Oh, Annie, you’re thinking of the stories, aren’t you?”
Alex’s mind raced. The stories. His stories. The ones he’d read, where the husband was… prepared. Claimed. He’d never spoken the words aloud, never typed them into a search bar. The fantasy existed in a pure, abstract space. This was making it concrete.
Annie guided him gently by the arm to another case. This one held an array of anal toys, plugs and beads in shimmering metals and smooth, jewel-toned silicone. “I was thinking a starter set,” she murmured, more to him than to Claire. “Something we can take our time with.”
Claire was already pointing. “The trainer kit. Silicone, graduated sizes. Very sensible.” She looked at Alex, her teasing softening into something resembling genuine encouragement. “Don’t look so pale, Cucky. It’s just a new kind of physics. You’re an engineer. Think of it as… structural exploration.”
He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was almost funny. It was completely insane.
They left the shop with a discreet black bag containing the trainer kit, a bottle of premium lubricant, and a new, intricate harness Annie had chosen without fanfare. It was black leather, simple, and ominously adaptable.
Back in the car, Claire chattered about her latest dating disaster, the tense energy in the shop dissipating into the Californian afternoon. She dropped them off at Annie’s apartment with a blown kiss. “Have fun with your homework, kids!”
Inside, the quiet was heavy. Alex set the bag on the kitchen counter. It seemed to hum with potential energy.
Annie came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. “That was intense,” she said quietly.
“The ‘Marcus-sized’ commentary was a touch.”
She laughed, a real, warm sound that vibrated against his back. “She’s a menace. But she’s not wrong.” She turned him around to face her. Her expression was serious now. “You liked it. The humiliation of it. I saw it in your eyes.”
He couldn’t lie. “Part of me did. A big part. The other part wanted to melt through the floor.”
“I know.” She kissed him, softly. “And the other thing? The toys? That scared you differently.”
He nodded. “It makes it real. It means you’re really thinking about…”
“About taking you there,” she finished. “Yes. I am.” She traced his lower lip. “I read more of those stories you like. The ones where the husband is… opened up. Made ready. It’s not just about him watching. It’s about her having total control. Every part of him.” Her eyes searched his. “Is that part of the fantasy, Alexey? The real, deep-down one?”
He closed his eyes. The last barrier within him crumbled. “Yes.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Then we’ll go slow. We’ll learn. Together.” She picked up the bag and took his hand, leading him toward the bedroom. “But tonight, we’re just opening the box. We’re just looking. No pressure.”
He followed, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. The path was set now, paved with black silicone and cool leather. The door he’d glimpsed was not just ajar; she had crossed the threshold and was holding it open for him, waiting to see if he would follow her into a world where his deepest shame was her favorite gift.
The bedroom air, always lightly scented with jasmine, now seemed charged with a new, chemical-clean smell from the unopened bag. Annie placed it on the silken duvet with a deliberate softness. She sat beside it, patting the space next to her. “Sit with me.”
Alex obeyed, the mattress dipping under his weight. His palms were damp. She unzipped the bag slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room. Inside, nestled in foam, were the purchases. The leather harness lay coiled, a promise of restraint. The bottle of lube glinted, clinical and purposeful. And beside them, in a separate box, was the trainer kit.
She opened it.
They opened the box, Alex blushes as he looks at anal toys for his virgin ass. Three smooth, tapered silicone shapes, graduated from a modest beginner’s size to one that made his throat tighten. They were a deep, twilight blue, utterly benign looking, and utterly terrifying. He stared, his face burning, the memory of the black dildo beside his cheek whispering in his mind. Marcus-sized. These were not. These were for him. A different kind of measurement.
“See?” Annie said, her voice a gentle murmur. She picked up the smallest one, rolling it between her fingers. “It’s just silicone. It’s not a weapon.” She held it out to him. “Touch it.”
He reached out, his fingers brushing hers before wrapping around the toy. It was cool, slightly flexible. Impersonal. “It feels strange,” he managed.
“It will feel stranger.” There was no malice in her tone, only factual calm. “That’s the point. To feel something new. To give me access to something no one else has.” She took it back from him, placing it carefully in its slot. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. We can just look. Get used to the idea of them being here, in our room.”
But her words twisted something loose inside him. The inertia broke. “I want to,” he heard himself say. The admission was a quiet explosion.
Her eyes lifted to his, searching. “You’re sure?”
“No.” He shook his head, a short, tight motion. “But I want to want to. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense.” A soft smile touched her lips. She leaned in and kissed him, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of reassurance and intent. When she pulled back, her gaze was steady. “Then we’ll start with just this. The smallest one. You, on your hands and knees. Me, here with you. Nothing else. Just this first step.”
The instructions were clear. They dismantled the moment into manageable pieces. He stood on shaky legs, undressing while she watched, her expression one of absorbed appreciation. When he was naked, she guided him onto the bed, positioning him on all fours facing the headboard. The pose itself was a surrender, exposing him utterly.
He heard the click of the lube bottle cap, the wet, slick sound of her coating the toy. His muscles clenched involuntarily.
“Breathe, Alexey,” she said, her hand a warm weight on the small of his back. “Just breathe. And relax this.” Her other hand rubbed a firm circle over his clenched cheek. “You have to let go.”
He forced a exhale, forcing the tension to seep from his shoulders, his spine, that specific, guarded muscle. The cool, lubed touch of the silicone nuzzling against him made him jolt.
“Easy,” she soothed. There was pressure, a blunt, insistent presence. It was unfamiliar, a stark, one-dimensional stretch. He buried his face in the duvet, his fingers clutching the fabric. It didn’t hurt, not exactly. It felt invasive. Full. He panted, his breath hot against the silk.
“There,” Annie whispered, her voice thick with a satisfaction that vibrated through him. She’d pushed it to the base, the flared end resting snug against him. “All the way in. My good boy.” Her hand stroked his flank, a lover’s caress in stark contrast to the object now lodged inside him. “How does it feel?”
“Full,” he grunted, the word muffled.
“You look complete,” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice. “Now, just stay there. Get used to it. It’s mine now. That space is mine.”
Time dilated. Seconds stretched into minutes filled with the hum of the city and his own ragged breathing. The initial shock faded, replaced by a low, throbbing awareness. He was acutely conscious of her eyes on him, of the harness on the bed beside her knee, of the two larger toys waiting in their box. This was just the beginning. The engineering part of his brain, detaching, analyzed the sensation—the pressure, the strange fullness, the quiet humiliation of being held open and still.
After what felt like an eternity, she said, “Okay. Let’s take it out.” Her touch was gentle, guiding the toy free with a slow, slick glide that felt even more intimate than its insertion. A shudder wracked him, a mix of relief and startling, empty loss.
He collapsed onto his side, spent from the intensity of the simple act. Annie cleaned the toy with a cloth from the nightstand, her movements meticulous. She placed it back in the box and lay down facing him, curling her body against his. She kissed his shoulder, his neck.
“You did so well,” she murmured into his skin. “My brave, perfect man.” Her hand drifted down, over his hip, but she didn’t push for more. “That’s enough for tonight.”
In the warm, post-surrender haze, her earlier words in the kitchen echoed. It means you’re really thinking about… taking you there. He now understood the there was not just physical. It was this raw, opened-up state of being, where his consent was the threshold and her will was the new geography.
She reached over and turned off the light, plunging them into the familiar dark. Just before sleep claimed him, her voice came again, soft as a breath but absolute as law.
“Tomorrow night,” she whispered, “You’re going to take a second bigger toy.”