Anal only

I called to you. Breakfast was ready. Rising from the bed where you had slept, as commanded, with the cool, foreign weight of the plug still deep within you, you eagerly took the hand I held out to draw you from the sheets. The times I treated you with such apparent tenderness were few, and you drank deeply from the moment, shedding the night's burden. I savoured your expression, precisely because I knew what release from that small, constant occupation would soon be followed by. I guided you to the breakfast table and pushed your chair forward. You registered the presence of a hole in the seat, yet the habit of obedience meant you gave it no further thought, your mind perhaps still dwelling on the pressure you had endured through the dark hours.

You sat down at the table, the opening receiving you. I kissed your mouth softly, a gesture that felt like a reward, then poured your coffee and spread a piece of bread for you. I did not ask what you desired; I decided what you would eat, observing the subtle shift in your posture as you settled onto the chair's unusual surface. Only then did I take my own seat opposite you, the table a small stage between us. Your eyes met mine across the cups and plates with a look of affection, a fragile emotion I knew would soon vanish beneath the demands of the moment. Beneath my chair was a pedal, concealed from your view but known intimately to your submission. I pressed it gently, and you felt cool steel press against your rear, seeking its path.

You knew instantly what it was: a large metal dildo, perfectly aligned beneath you, impatient to penetrate your ass, eager to replace the internal occupation of the night's plug with a new, more demanding presence. Now you understood why I had drawn you from the bed so swiftly; there had been no time to find your panties, which was exactly my intention, leaving you bare and vulnerable to whatever the chair held. I had prepared everything meticulously beforehand, the metal dildo fully coated in a thick layer of lubricant, ready for its task. You knew that surrender was your only recourse and shifted your weight subtly on the chair, positioning your anus precisely against the smooth, waiting tip of the dildo.

Slowly, painstakingly, centimetre by centimetre, I depressed the pedal, driving the dildo into your ass. I watched the struggle between the initial sting of penetration and the burgeoning awareness of fullness, of being occupied, play out on your face – a familiar battleground. I judged the prelude complete, your passage sufficiently prepared by the night and the slow entry, and pressed the pedal firmly, plunging the full eighteen centimetres into your rectum in a single, decisive movement. You cried out sharply, more from the unexpected suddenness of the invasion than the raw pain itself, though pain was certainly present. I paused then, allowing you a moment to regain your breath and sip your coffee, before resuming a steady, measured rhythm with the pedal, intent on driving you towards that precipice where pain dissolved into sensation and sensation into release, on bringing you to your first orgasm of the day, claimed by the chair. And you knew then, with a certainty that settled deep within your gut, that this day, like others before it, would be dedicated entirely to the prolonged use of your ass, its capacity tested and expanded for my pleasure.

The rhythm continued, a steady thrust and withdrawal directed by my foot, interpreted by your body as waves of pressure building towards a peak. Your hands tightened on the edge of the table, your breath hitched, and your eyes glazed slightly as the mechanical penetration claimed its tribute. When the tremors finally seized you, wrung from your tightened muscles and overwhelmed senses, I held the pedal steady, keeping the dildo deep within you as your climax subsided, leaving you trembling and flushed, utterly possessed by the metal rod that filled you.

I allowed the dildo to remain for a few moments more, letting the sensation of its weight and depth imprint itself upon your awareness, a physical reminder of your state. Then, with a final, slow press and release of the pedal, I withdrew it completely, the sudden emptiness a stark contrast to the fullness you had just experienced. "Rise," I instructed, my voice calm, expecting and receiving immediate compliance, your body already moving to obey before the echo of the word faded. You rose from the chair, leaving the vacant opening behind, your legs perhaps unsteady, your ass pulsing from its recent occupation.

I gestured towards the centre of the room, where I had prepared for the next phase. On a small table lay a selection of instruments, glinting under the morning light. "Come here," I said, and you walked towards me, naked and exposed, your obedience absolute. I picked up a particular item – a thin, curved metal hook designed specifically for anal play, one I had acquired to ensure that even when withdrawn, your passage remained open and ready, a constant invitation.

I explained its purpose simply: "This keeps you available." Then, I carefully inserted the curved end into your anus, guiding it past the sphincter. You flinched only slightly at the initial insertion, quickly mastering the impulse to resist. The hook settled inside, its handle protruding a few inches, creating a subtle, constant tension, a gentle tug that kept your muscles from fully closing, a physical anchor affirming my access to you.

Next, I picked up the inflatable buttplug. It was made of soft, yielding silicone when deflated, a stark contrast to the metal that had just occupied you. "This will stretch you," I stated, holding it up for your inspection, letting you anticipate the pressure to come. I coated it generously with lubricant, the same slick substance that had facilitated the morning's entry, and guided its tip past the hook's handle and into your waiting rectum, pushing it in until only the inflation tube remained outside.

I attached a small pump to the tube and began to inflate the plug slowly, observing the effect on your body. You felt the internal pressure build, the soft silicone expanding against your walls, pushing outward, stretching you from within. I watched your eyes widen slightly as the internal volume increased, your ass clenching instinctively against the growing pressure, a reaction I observed with clinical interest. The hook ensured the entrance remained accessible despite the internal stretching.

I inflated the plug further, pausing at intervals to let you adjust to the increasing fullness, the sensation of being stretched and filled from the inside becoming paramount. The hook remained, a silent guard at the entrance, preventing your muscles from fully expelling the pressure, adding its own specific discomfort to the deep, expansive feeling of the inflated plug. You stood before me, silently enduring, a living vessel tested by its internal contents, your body a canvas upon which I inscribed my will.

After a period of time, during which you simply existed in this state of full, hooked readiness, I decided the preparation was complete. "Time to empty you" I commanded. You understood immediately. I removed the pump, and the air hissed out, the large plug rapidly deflating. I then gently but firmly withdrew both the now-soft plug and the curved hook together, leaving you feeling suddenly, profoundly empty, yet paradoxically, more open than before. The brief relief was sharp, but it was instantly replaced by the knowledge that this emptiness was merely anticipation.

I then reached for the next instrument – a dildo of considerable size and thickness, made of heavy silicone, far larger than the one in the chair, promising a deeper, more demanding penetration. I held it up, letting you see its girth, its weight, its sheer capacity to fill you entirely. "This," I said, my voice low, "is what you are ready for now." It represented the culmination of the morning's preparation, the reward for your obedience and resilience.

I lubricated it heavily, coating its imposing length until it gleamed, ready to slide into the passage that the hook and the inflatable plug had so diligently prepared. I positioned you before me, bending you slightly at the waist, presenting your rear. With deliberate slowness, I began to press the thick tip against your anus, feeling the slight resistance, the yielding of your muscles, now thoroughly primed for occupation. I began the process of insertion, inch by careful inch.

You gasped as the thickness began to stretch you open in a way the previous toys had only hinted at. Your body tensed, but you did not pull away; your training, your submission, held you fast. I watched the dildo disappear into you, the silicone slowly claiming you, filling you utterly, stretching your rectum to its absolute capacity. I pushed until the entire length was buried within you, a solid, unyielding column filling you from within. Your breath came in short gasps, your eyes squeezed shut for a moment against the intensity of the fullness.

I held the dildo deep inside you, allowing you time to accommodate its size, to let the initial shock subside and the profound feeling of being completely, absolutely filled take over. I then began to move it slowly, rhythmically, feeling the deep, stretching friction against your internal walls. I increased the pace gradually, pulling it almost to the lip before driving it back in, the thick silicone working you, preparing you further, bringing you to the edge repeatedly with its relentless, deep strokes.

I continued with the dildo, building the intensity, ensuring your passage was fully accustomed to being stretched to its limits, warm and slick and ready. I worked you with it until I was satisfied with your state of surrender, with the way your body yielded to its presence. Then, with a final deep thrust, I pulled it free, the sudden emptiness sharp and immediate, leaving your ass pulsing, gaping slightly, utterly prepared for what was to follow.

I positioned myself behind you, my own body ready, hard and demanding. Without hesitation, I guided my penis to your opening, slick and warm from the morning's use, and drove myself into you, deep and fast. The sensation of my own flesh filling you, warm and alive, was immediate and potent, different from the inert feel of the toys. Your ass clenched tightly around me for a moment before relaxing, welcoming the familiar intrusion.

I began to thrust, each stroke taking me deep into your rectum, filling you completely, claiming the passage that had been prepared. I held your hips, setting the rhythm, driving into you with increasing speed and force, feeling your internal walls grip and release around me. My focus narrowed to the exquisite friction, the perfect tightness, the knowledge that I was utterly possessing you in this moment, taking you fully. The build-up was swift, intense.

With a final, deep lunge, I felt the familiar surge of pressure within me. I drove myself as deeply as possible into your receptive ass, holding nothing back, and pulsed my seed into you, feeling the hot liquid flood into your deepest recesses, filling you from within with a part of myself. I stayed buried within you for a moment as the last tremors of my release subsided, utterly spent, utterly satisfied.

I withdrew slowly, leaving you filled with my essence. I then instructed you, my voice still holding the weight of command, to turn and attend to me. Without hesitation, you knelt before me, your eyes on my still-hardened cock, glistening with your wetness and my own fluids. You leaned forward and, with the reverence of a supplicant, began to lick my shaft clean, your tongue meticulously tracing its length, taking care to gather every drop that remained, obeying this final, intimate command.

When you were finished, leaving me clean and pulsing from the attention, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The commands ceased, the instruments of use were forgotten for the moment. I knelt down, pulling you gently into my arms. The dominant became the protector, the user became the lover. You nestled against me, no longer a tool but a person, seeking comfort. I held you close, stroking your hair, whispering soft words, allowing the space for connection after the intensity of possession. We remained like that for a while, simply holding each other, the tender aftermath a counterpoint to the morning's rigorous use, a quiet affirmation of the bond beneath the surface of dominance and submission.