Summer Roses

Summer is here and so are the roses. I love my roses and spend hours every day cultivating them, pruning them, weeding around them. My yard is fulled with roses - all neatly arranged in an English style garden. I love the feel of the velvety petals, the heady scent, the sturdy stems, the tortuous thorns. My Love enjoys all of this as well. He sits now, in the gazebo, watching me at my work. I wear a simple white cotton sundress and white Keds. I look up at him, sipping his wine, and smile. I see his eyes darken and know he is becoming aroused. He stands and inclines his head toward my Play House. This is a foolish name, but he chose it and so I go along with it. 

My Play House is a small cabin build on the back lot of our home. We live on the outskirts of a small town and own quite a bit of wooded and cultivated property. It's a lovely little structure. One room, really. Electricity for the air conditioner and hot water heater, but a Franklin stove for the winter heat and small amounts of cooking and oil lamps or candles for light. Two straight backed chairs, a tiny drop leaf table, a double bed and a bathtub, stool and sink. At the foot of the bed is a steamer trunk filled with supplies, on the wall one cabinet filled with towels and bed linens, on hooks by the door jackets and a few other articles of clothing.

Shaking my head a bit, I return to my task, now slightly altered simply by a look from him. I cut four roses, bright red this time, and leave the stems long. When I enter the Play House holding them, he is already seated on one of the chairs. I place the roses on the table and remove my clothing, hanging the dress on a hook. Here, I am nude. Always. I kneel and wait for his instructions.

He has tied my wrists to the headboard and blindfolded me. I love the blindfold. It and his silence force me to pay attention only to sensations. I hear a harsh clipping sound then, something hard and narrow inserted, just barely, into my cunt. No need to worry about wetness. The moment I enter the Play House I am ready for him. His finger on my clit, the object enters further. A rose stem. He has trimmed every thorn from it and is using it to fuck me. In and out. His fingers torturing my clit. I pant and come so very close. Then, he stops. He leaves the rose inside of me but stops moving it.

He climbs on top of me, still clothed. and whispers in my ear, "It's going to be a long afternoon for you. I want to see you squirm, beg, cry out from my treatment of you. But be sure of this, my love. You will cum only when I allow it."

TPE - Total Power Exchange

The term TPE is often used in BDSM, but I have found that it is generally misunderstood. Total - complete. Power - control. Exchange - offering something of yours for something in return.

Most people, even those in the lifestyle, simply see this as the submissive giving control of his or her body over tho the dominant. While this is, in fact, true, this does not constitute an exchange, but rather a gift. The other side of the coin which is often overlooked is that the dominant also gives control to the submissive. (For simplicity's sake, I'm going to use the masculine as the dominant and the feminine as the submissive.)

Think of it this way. You are in an office. You are the Boss's right hand man. You present ideas to your boss. She has given you the control, the ability, the duty to come up with ideas and to institute them - but only based upon her

approval. The Boss says Yes or No. If the Boss says NO, then the idea is dropped. If the Boss says YES, run with it. You, the right hand man, now have control of the situation.

This, in essence, is a TPE. In actuality, the Boss is the submissive. She listens to the Dominant's ideas, schemes, plans, desires. He, then, has given her control of agreeing with his ideas or vetoing them. She has given him control of coming up with the ideas. Thus, an exchange of power.