Our introduction to TPE

You lie upon the bed, in that posture of submission you so adore. I am seated before you. Whip and paddle rest beside me; toys of diverse sizes are also at hand. You whimper softly, beseeching me for your release. But the evening is nascent, and your climaxes will come, though not now. Now, I proceed with my design, our design. You wished for complete domination, not just in bed, but total. TPE, that is what transpires.

You are aroused, deeply so. You would surrender anything for release now. Again, you plead, and again, I deny you. In response, I administer yet more strokes to your flesh. Crimson becomes you; this I have always known. After the impacts, I invade you once more. Three fingers find their home within your cunt, my thumb in your arse. Roughly, I move, thrusting. Thirty seconds, I surmise, and then I sense you teetering on the precipice of your orgasm. I cease, and immediately you begin to keen. 'Please, do not stop, continue. I implore you.' I disregard your pleas, my attention shifting to your breasts, or rather, your nipples, upon which I suckle and then bite. A tremor courses through your frame. I feel it in every fiber of your being; you are poised for climax. Your entire body screams for it. Thus, I halt this session.

'Dress,' I command, my voice severe, holding a crimson bodysuit before your face. It will suit you exquisitely, for with your breasts, cunt, and arse exposed, all your sensitive points remain accessible to me. I instruct you to descend, while I gather the necessary implements. Once below, I retrieve a chair, placing it centrally. I order you to stand before me, and I insert a bondage hook into your arse. To this, I affix a cord, which I then secure to your hair. Each time you must lower your head, you will feel the hook press deeply within you.

I bid you sit upon the chair and fasten two restraints to your ankles, securing you to it. Now, it is time to review the rules. The restraints are of Velcro, thus you may free yourself instantly, should you wish. I also place trousers and a sweater beside your chair, so that if someone should ring, within thirty seconds you can resemble the innocent mathematics teacher once more. You nod when I ask if you have understood. This is my signal to apply the blindfold. Thus, you will not see what I intend. And finally, to complete the tableau, I place suckers upon your clitoris and nipples. Proudly, I survey my work; you appear exquisitely submissive. You are mine, entirely mine, and by your very breath, I discern this pleases you completely.

I announce I am going to cook, and I depart. I set pans upon the flame and begin to prepare a simple yet savory meal. Periodically, I return to the room, whispering in your ear the catalogue of intentions I still hold for you. Your arousal intensifies further, and you beseech me to take you then and there. You beg for my cock to pierce your arse. You are inflamed, exceedingly so. Yet, I retreat once more to my culinary tasks.

After several instances of tormenting prelude, I shall inflict further exquisite pain. This, I accomplish by means of the suckers. Both your nipples and your clitoris are by now considerably engorged. I remove the device from your left nipple and lave it gently with my tongue. Your nipple, now immensely swollen. And I replace the sucker upon it, creating anew the vacuum. Consequently, your nipple is stretched further still. You cry out. The pain, the arousal. You wish for it never to cease. Once your right nipple has undergone the same ministration, it is the turn of your clitoris. As I detach the sucker and slowly draw upon your clitoris with my mouth, you find your release. Spontaneously, as if from nowhere. You cry out, you scream. Your orgasm was potent, yet the ecstatic sensation is marred as I return the sucker to your clitoris, and once more engage the vacuum. The sensitivity is acute, and you implore me, though for what, you do not know, and you hear me stirring the contents of the pans once more.

The aroma of the meal, simple yet potent, now fills the air, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of your profound arousal I have so carefully cultivated. 'You will eat,' I state, my voice a silken command that brooks no dissent. I unfasten the restraints from the chair ant the blindfold, leading you by a leash I now attach to the collar you wear, a silver chain that links your obedience to my hand. You stumble willingly, your hunger twofold: one for sustenance, the other, more profound, for the continuation of my design upon your senses. My fingers brush the still-swollen flesh of your nipple through the crimson bodysuit as I guide you.

You presents a morsel of food to your lips and wait for my command. 'You can eat,' I command, and you obey, your mouth receiving the nourishment as if it were another violation, another intimate claim. I watch the pulse beat in your throat as you swallow. Between bites, I dip my fingers in my mouth and, tracing its coolness onto your heated clitoris, still accessible, still exquisitely sensitive beneath the fabric. You gasp, a small, stifled sound, the pleasure a delicate seasoning to our repast. Your body trembles, a testament to your utter surrender to my ministrations, even here, in this brief pause.

The meal concludes, not when you are sated, but when I decree it so. 'Now,' I utter, the single word a promise of the depths yet to be explored, 'we return.' I pull gently on the leash, and you rise, your limbs pliant, your will entirely subsumed by mine. The scent of food mingles with your own unique perfume of submission, an intoxicating blend that fuels my own anticipation. Back in the chamber, the bed awaits, a silent altar for the rites to come. I can feel the quickening of your breath, the silent pleading in the way your body inclines towards mine. You understand this was but an interlude; the true devotions are imminent.

You lie once more upon the bed, already acquainted with service, yet you sense the true ordeal is yet to unfold. And you sense correctly. I have reserved the culmination for the final act. Your injured wrist precludes the posture that would grant the easiest access to your depths, the position on all fours. But I have devised a way. Naturally, I have devised a way; there exists no one more adept at utilising you.

I have now procured the bondage rope and proceed to wind it about your left ankle, securing it with a precise knot. Though the binding is firm, it does not bite unduly into your flesh. Your ankle is drawn back, the rope passed beneath the nape of your neck. Then, your right ankle is similarly bound. Your legs are thus arranged alongside your head, presenting your nether parts, both the posterior passage and the feminine cleft, in utter accessibility. I draw on two latex gloves and take up the slick unguent.

I apply generous measures of the lubricant upon the gloved hands, then anoint your entrances with it. Slowly, then, I invade your cunt. Three fingers meet little resistance; the fourth soon follows. I move within you with increasing rapidity, and deep sounds are torn from your throat. Carefully, I let my thumb fold inward against my palm, cautiously navigating the entirety of my fist into your pussy. Not much later, my fist breaches the final resistance, and I slowly begin to move it within you. You cry out, a sound born of this profound invasion. I press ever deeper until you are stretched to your utmost limit. With my free hand, I slowly introduce a single digit into your ass.

Your inner passage has now grown accustomed to the presence of my fist. I withdraw it only to reinsert it, the passage now easy. This action brings forth from you the first involuntary flood, followed swiftly by a second, and then a third, as I continue the steady rhythm of withdrawal and occupation. Meanwhile, three fingers now reside within your anus, mirroring the insistent motion. The sensations engulfing you reach a state of sheer abandon. To grant some measure of respite, I withdraw my fist, replacing its bulk with two fingers that seek out and knead the sensitive ridge within. Into your anus, a fourth finger has now been added.

To prepare for the culmination, I withdraw all fingers from your posterior passage. I apply a copious amount of lubricant to my glove and immediately reinsert the four fingers. They slide inward with ease into the still-parted flesh. Now, the thumb must also be accommodated. I sense the need for more unguent still, withdraw my fingers once more, and apply it generously. Instantly, I return all fingers to your still-receptive aperture. Slowly, the thumb follows, and then begins the careful, insistent pressure.

Minutes pass; the lubricant performs its function. Millimeter by painstaking millimeter, I gain purchase within your anal passage, and then, suddenly, the widest part of my hand slips inside. I am fully within, I let you know without moving. Overwhelmed by the finality of this possession, you surrender to another climax. This release repeats itself several times more as your body begins to accept the sensation, as the true depth of the anal fisting commences. Another threshold crossed... and the night remains far from its conclusion.