[F4M] Expressing Your Preferences [Script Offer] [Fsub] [Narrative]][Fucked in multiple positions] [Messy blowjob][Facial][Begging][Self degradation][Taking control] [Just a big 'ol sub fest][BDSM] 

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Author's note:  

Feel free to change/adapt as you see fit. While one certainly *could* do this with sound effects happening in tandem, as a narrative script it certainly doesn't /require/ any. 

Though the entire piece is narrative, 'text' denotes one character or the other speaking - or rather, the narrator reporting directly what was said.

/text/ for italics/emphasis

[text] or *text* for direction and/or sound effects

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The fight starts over paint. I want to paint the living room. 'Fine', you say. I was sort of hoping for more interest. I want to know what color you'd like. But you just say 'whatever you want.' What I want is for you to have a fucking preference. 

It's an old argument. Sometimes it's nice that you're so laid back. But sometimes I can't tell if you even care. I need you to care. I need you to have an opinion.

I don't know why it boils over tonight. Maybe we're both just cranky. Maybe I'm tired of feeling like I make all the decisions.

In any case, I snap.

I'm yelling at you, on and on about how you never take initiative, never just take charge, or take what you want. Years of frustration pouring out, as I scream, 'WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?'

And then something in your face changes, and I can't read it anymore. You speak, and your tone is strange - forceful, but no longer angry; /commanding/.

'I want you, to get on your knees' you say.

For a moment I just gape at you, processing. You /never/ initiate kinky sex. Hell, at first you were reluctant to do it at all. The first time you came home to find I'd handcuffed myself to the bed, you insisted on releasing me, over my protestations that I needed to be fucked instead. 

It's sort of sweet, in a way - but mostly it's just annoying. It took me /weeks/ to get you to slap me - even just lightly. And weeks more before you'd call me anything even the slightest bit degrading. You do okay these days - but only ever at my explicit invitation.

Now you're staring me down, your face resolved, unwavering. I've never seen this kind of firmness from you. Slowly my legs fold under me, and I wait in anticipation to see how you'll follow through.

'Position two'. You're calling back to the last time we played - you made up all these positions for me to assume at your direction. My idea, actually, but you took to it.

So, position two. I kneel, legs folded under me, sitting on my heels. My hands rest palm-down on each thigh. Submissive. 

I settle, and cast my eyes up to yours. You look back, so intently. Your look is /expecting./ Demanding. You undo your pants, holding my gaze, noting, I'm sure, when my eyes can't help but dart down to your cock. 

I open my mouth, let my tongue fall out over my bottom lip - as if to say, 'so do it'.

You step forward, guiding your cock head past my lips, your fingers lacing through my hair, controlling my head. In and out a couple times to warm up, then you plunge your cock - and pull my head - until you're as deep as my mouth will allow. 

I'm carefully passive, resisting the impulse to close my lips, swirl my tongue. Instead I relax my throat, do my best to open to you. 

I've been working on it lately, but I can still only take about three quarters of you. You probe gently, pushing right to that point. 

I can't help myself - I move my head forward, just a little, trying to take you a little deeper. I manage it, for a short moment - then I gag. You pull back, frowning. I wasn't supposed to move. You regard me for a moment - then carefully, deliberately, slap me across the face. 'Bad'.

I careful resume my neutral position, mouth open, but you have other ideas. 'Disrobe, then four' you say.

I'm eager to obey. I turn around, still on my knees, shucking off my dress as I go. I bend over, sending my bottom up, my head down to the floor. Underwear comes off, then my hands go back to grasp my ankles, pulling my legs apart, as my chest and face drive into the soft carpet.

I love everything about this position. My pussy is completely exposed, pressed towards you, presented for your approval. The rest of my body pulls away, irrelevant, stifled in the carpet. And my hands pull my legs wide - begging for it in physical form. It screams 'come fuck me'. 

And it seems you will. You rest your hand on my ass and I draw a breath, anticipating your cock filling me.

But instead, you draw your hand back spank me.

By the third stroke, my pussy is sopping. "Arousal" is too weak a word for what I feel, and my pussy floods in testament. 

On the fourth stroke I whimper - not with pain, but with a demanding /need/ to be filled, fucked, used. You make me wait until ten.

You let your hand remain on my ass after the tenth, and squeeze. You slide your fingers over my lips, and chuckle at how they're instantly coated, slick and wet. I think you enjoy knowing how horny this makes me. You slide in one finger, then more, and I moan. It's like you're showing off - you want to display just how easily entered I am, how wet, how open and eager my pussy. 

Finally, /finally/, your cock brushes my entrance, rock hard and raging - all this teasing has wound you up too. 

You grip my hips and thrust. Deliberate, powerful strokes, and I shudder to finally feel you inside me.

I rock back, meeting your thrusts, fucking myself on your cock. I'm panting, breathing in ragged gasps. 

You lean forward onto me, one hand gently stroking the nape of my neck, the other gliding up my stomach, finding the curve of my breasts before they meet the floor. You murmur appreciatively in my ear; 'good slut'. 

Now you fuck me in earnest, plunging into me with wild abandon. I writhe and moan, while you tangle your fingers in my hair, gripping, and whisper 'good girl.' Those are your loving affirmations - good girl, sweet bitch. Good slut. 

My legs are beginning to shake; much more of this, and I'll cum. I'm sure you can tell, and will stop, just to deny me. I'd love for you to keep going - I'd love you to bear down on me as my muscles spasm, and shoot your cum deep into me. I'd love to feel you filling me as I orgasm, to feel your cum dripping out as I subside. 

But instead you pull back, stand up, walk around to my front. I whimper in frustration and you smile, looking down at me - my eyes rolled up to meet yours even as my head humbly joins the carpet, my ass proudly in the air, my hands still silently begging you to fuck me.

'Position six', you say.

I disentangle myself, sit on my bottom, my back nearly on the floor. My legs go up, bent, and my elbows find the back of my knees, hands snaking around to grip my ankles. I like this position too. My arms and legs immobilize one another, leaving me helpless. My legs are spread wide, pussy exposed. 

I'm no longer as close to the edge as I was, the interruption has tempered me. I need your cock in me again, need you to pound me. 

You kneel in front of me, your cock head hovering over my pussy. Gently you push forward - not into me, but sliding over my pussy lips, and up to rub against my clit.

'Beg', you say. I whimper some half-formed word, too addled to make my tongue work. 'BEG' - and I'm begging.

"Please, please fuck me, fuck my pussy, please-'

Finally you slide into me, filling me completely. This position always feels the deepest, as you push right up to the hilt.

You go slow, taking your time, while your hands enjoy my body. You pinch and tug my hard nipples; encircle my throat with one hand; slide a thumb into my mouth, momentarily silencing my cries as I dutifully suck. 

Your other thumb finds my clit - hovers just above, not touching. Another benefit to this position - everything is front and center, easy for you to stimulate... if you feel I deserve it.

You ask if I'm the sort of dirty slut who deserves to have her clit played with. I say I am. But you want proof.

So I'm a dirty slut for you.

At your prompting, I tell you all about myself. What a good slut I am. What a sweet bitch. How desperately I want your cum. What a good cumrag I can be for you.

It's degrading, objectifying. I love it.

I realize this is why you changed positions - you wanted to see my face as I humiliate myself. As I beg for your cock, and tell you how I'd like to wear your cum, or suck and swallow it, or hold it deep in my cunt.

My legs are shaking again, and my begging falls away into wordless yelps and cries. Your cock is pounding into me, /so/ deep, and your thumb presses into my clit just right, pulsing and flicking. I'm /just/ about to cum-

You stop, abruptly, withdrawing both fingers and cock, and I'm almost crying at the loss. It's all I can do to keep my hands on my ankles. My face must be pure anguish.

You grab me by the hair and pull, dragging me along - I follow on hands and knees. You lead me over to the bed, deposit me in front of the footboard.

'Three.' I almost don't remember - I was expecting something that would let you fuck me, but three is a sitting-ready position. Kneeling, legs apart - hands laced on the back of my head. I assume the position, looking up at you with confusion and desire and lust. And obedience. 

You take my hands off my head, place them on the headboard behind me. 'These stay'. I'm confused, but I don't question. With my arms straight, as you've placed them, I'm leaning forward slightly, tits swaying.

You step out of my view for a moment, and return holding my favorite toy - a vibrator, large, and powerful. You set it on the floor - in front of my pussy, but /just/ out of reach. I could maybe get my clit on it if I - well, humped the floor. Which is no doubt what you have in mind. 

I let out a whimper of protest, and you smile. 

You turn the vibrator on and stand before me, cock bobbing over my face. 'Go on, then - please us both'.

I don't need telling twice. Desperately I inch my knees forward, bringing my clit into contact with the head of the vibrator - barely, but enough. And I engulf your cock. Now that I'm allowed to, I devour it.

;

Lips closed, tongue hard at work - and, still, trying to beat my own record for depth.

I take you as far back as I can, and then some. Gagging, ignoring it. Here at the back of my throat you cock elicits that thick, viscus saliva. Soon there's too much - coating your dick, pooling in my mouth. I pull back, and let the excess spill over my lips, run down my chin, my tits. I dip my head lower, nuzzling your cock, lapping at your balls. You take the opportunity - as I intend - to draw your dick across my face, trailing saliva and precum onto my cheeks, my nose, my forehead.

I suck and lick your balls, generating still more saliva, as you lift your cock, slap it repeatedly against my face.  

I'm a mess - just how you like me.

The vibrator is creating a similar mess below, and my poor pussy can hardly take it. I'm approaching orgasm for the third time, but I won't cum until you're ready for me to.

I look up at you, past your bobbing cock to your face. 'Please'.

You arch an eyebrow. 'Please what?'

'/Please/ cum on my face'

This too is on the long list of things we never used to do. The first time you did I was so embarrassed; wearing your cum like some kind of slut. Embarrassed, and immensely aroused. 

You consider, taking your time, pushing my cockhead lazily around my face while I pant and writhe on the vibrator.

You want to know if /I'm/ ready to cum. '/Yes/' I gasp

Again you consider. Perhaps you'll say I can come when I feel your cum on my skin - you've done that before, and it is indeed an effective motivator.

'You will cum' you say 'in a moment, /when I tell you to/. Exactly. Do you understand?'

I do.

I'm so close now. Right on the edge, truly ready to cum on command. 

You place your left hand below my chin, thumb and pointer finger reaching my jaw bone on either side, and tilt my head up. With your right you direct your cock, stroking yourself, slapping onto my face, or momentarily pushing into my mouth, rubbing on my proffered tongue. 

It's all I can do to keep from coming. I need a distraction, something to focus on other than my pussy.

'Please cum on my face' I say again. 'Cum, cum on me, cum on my face, please cum on my face-'

I repeat the mantra, distracting myself; a solicitation that will - hopefully - make you focus on wanting to cum, rather than denying me.

And then, finally: 'Cum' you command - and I do, instantly, hard and long. Every muscles spasms, my clit it so worked over that pleasure is almost pain. I feel your warm cum spurting out, covering my face. You cum and cum, and I love the symmetry - feeling the evidence of your orgasm pouring onto me as mine continues to course through me. 

We subside, slowly, your last errant spurts of cum trickling out as my last spasms fade. 

You collapse into a chair, and I take deep breaths, processing. I'm ecstatic. This sort of drive from you - decisive, commanding! - is exactly what I was looking for. In the bedroom and out.

I need to reinforce this. Leave you in no doubt of my approval. As soon as my legs are steady enough, I crawl over to the chair.

Your dick, semi-erect and slick, hangs between your legs. I take it in my mouth, sucking gently, cleaning you.

Then I rock back onto my heels, look up at you, hold your gaze. 

Your cum is still coating my face, dripping down in uneven strands, a heavy accent over the more even covering of saliva. 

'Thank you' I murmur. 

I lift both hands to my face, massage my cheeks, spreading I. Not cleaning; just, making sure I'm evenly covered. I seem to have your attention; this is new.

'Thank you for commanding me.'

'Thank you for punishing me.'

'Thank you for fucking me.'

I spit out a mouthful of excess saliva and cum, catch it on my tits; rub it in, pinching both nipples.

'Thank you for making me your slut, your little bitch.'

'Thank you for letting me cum.'

'Thank you for cumming on my sweet face.'

You lean down, kiss the top of my head.

With that, we're done. I go clean up for real, then come back and join you in the chair. We cuddle, and kiss, and share affectionate whispers. 

I'm getting sleepy in your arms.

As I'm about to drift off, your voice calls me back.

'Blue' you say. 'I would like you to paint the living room blue.'