"Fine, you want to know, I'll tell you."
I sat back, propping the pillows against the headboard, and settled in for her explanation. At last. I knew better than to prompt her; she had resisted for so long and would resist again if pushed. If she wanted to say it, she would, but in her way, her time. I waited as she visibly collected her thoughts and prepped herself. It was likely to be long, but I had waited years, prodding and probing and beseeching. I tried to make my face show compassion and patience, and hide the eagerness I felt; inside I thought I might explode. She sat on the edge of the bed, turned away from me. I knew there was no way she could begin while looking at me; that would come as she opened up and relaxed a little.
She began with her face aimed at the wall.
"It's complicated, so be patient," she started, and I touched her shoulder reassuringly. She shrugged it off. "No, don't," she told me. "Just let me say it." I dropped my hand and waited, watching her bare shoulders rise and fall. She glanced around with a frustrated air, then bent for the tee shirt on the floor where it had fallen and slipped it over her head. "Sorry, not naked," she informed me, then heaved a sigh.
"I resist because I am afraid, Steven. The things you want, what you want me to do, what you have made me do..."
"You seemed to enjoy-"
"Stop! Please, don't interrupt. You want to know, so I'll tell you, but please, just let me say it." She was silent for a while longer, still facing away from me, and I thought for a moment I had ruined the moment, that she would stuff her thoughts back inside and not tell me. In so many ways she was outspoken and opinionated, and her hesitance on this one issue seemed out of character. Sure we pushed our limits, I thought. But this felt like her reaction was out of proportion; to me, anyway.
"Yes. I enjoy it. Not the way I enjoy just regular sex. A different enjoyment. That's part of it; part of what scares me.
She turned to look at me. There were tears welling in her eyes.
"Honey, are you all-"
"No. Stop. You want this answer, you can wait for it." I clammed up. At least on that, she was certain. "I have to tell it my way." I nodded silently. My curiosity was getting the better of me, though, and I had to force my questions to silence in my head. Listen, I admonished myself.
She turned her head away again, focused on some vague unknown spot in the corner of the room, but her profile was still visible. I could almost see her thinking.
"There are things I have done with you, things you have made me do," she began slowly, controlling her breathing, "that I consider perverted and disgusting." I nodded my agreement; it was not a secret. Her view of sex was, like her, pretty straightforward. Over the last years I had gotten her to try some new variations. She'd seemed hesitant at first, but slowly I had gotten her to concede. Things she didn't like. Things she said she didn't want to do. But I had insisted, and over time, wore down her resistance.
"You knew I didn't like those things, the idea of them," she continued. "But you insisted. And I gave in." I saw her eyes dart to mine, tentative and nervous. I nodded, showing her I understood and agreed. "I did them. At first I resisted, but you were adamant. And I did them." Her eyes flashed to me again, and I gave her another small nod. She looked back to the corner.
"Oh, you were so confident, so assured," she said, more to herself, I thought, and she shook her head slightly back and forth. "How could I resist? Saying no didn't work." She blew out an exasperated laugh. "I tried. I tried to say no, but you wouldn't have it. You insisted. And I gave in." She paused; I waited. Her head angled up, as if seeing an image of her memory. "You remember the first time? When you came on my face?" Her shoulders rose with a deep breath. "Months. Weeks and weeks. And I finally agreed to it." She looked at me askance and snorted a short laugh. "You remember?" she asked, her eyebrow lifted quizzically.
"Of course," I answered, but offered no more.
"Yep." Her lips tightened before she looked down at her hands, fidgeting in her lap. Her thighs were still bare, and I remembered she was naked but for the tee shirt. Her words came out slowly, almost cadenced, like she had practiced it. It felt like a poetry reading. "You made me suck your cock first. You were forceful after I agreed. Then you pushed me on my back and fucked me, hard." She paused. "When you were close, you pulled out. I didn't cum, yet. You pulled me up to my knees, in front of you. You told me, ordered me, to open my mouth, to hold still. You stroked your cock slowly, right in my face. You put your hand on my head, held me still. You told me to say I wanted it, and I did, repeating your words. You made me ask for it, then beg for it." She angled her head towards me, looking at me from the corner of her eyes. "I begged you to cum on my face as you held my head." Her eyes narrowed. "And then it came, hot and fast," her voice was low and breathy now, "cum shooting on my face, on my tongue, in my mouth. You called me a slut as you came, called me a dirty cum slut," she trailed off.
She looked back down at her hands, and her voice returned to conversational tone. "Your voice was harsh, demanding; commanding me. Your hand was so tight on me. And I took it, took your cum on my face, like you wanted." She finished, and heaved a sigh. I waited.
"We didn't do that again for weeks, didn't talk about it. You remember?" She turned to me, and I nodded again silently, confirming the fact. My cock was hard under the sheet. "When we did it again, you just told me to kneel, and I did." She looked in my eyes as she said the words, then sighed and found that spot in the corner again.
"And then the rest, the other things you made me do. You made me finger myself while you came on me. You made me finger my ass for you. You made me wear dresses, out in public, with no underwear. You shaved me. You made me swallow your cum, made me finger myself after you came in me," she recited, as though she had committed the litany of events to memory. Her voice gained emotion as she listed them. "I did whatever you said. I sucked my fingers clean. I sucked your cock clean. I flashed my tits in public, fingered myself in a restaurant. I sucked your cock in a movie theatre, in an alley, in a men's bathroom. I wore your cum on my face in public. Whatever you told me to do, I did it." I watched as she straightened her back and squared her shoulders. She took a deep breath, then turned her body to face me, hooking one bare leg beneath her, her foot between her thighs, pressing the bottom edge of the tee shirt into herself.
"I still objected, and resisted, but after that first time you came on my face, not as much. I still didn't WANT to do those things. No-" she stopped herself, "no, that's not right. I still didn't IMAGINE myself doing those things. I couldn't see myself doing it willingly, wanting it." She stared into my eyes then, and heaved a resolute sigh. "But I liked it. I liked doing it; liked doing what you told me, liked doing what YOU wanted. I liked not liking it and being made to do it, I liked being dirty at your order. I liked the force you applied, the sound of your voice, the tone you used. Those things aroused me beyond my control, and I found myself wanting you to tell me the next thing, wanting YOU to want me to do dirty, nasty things, to use me." Her eyes narrowed. "Do you understand?"
"I knew you enjoyed it, yes; if that what you're asking."
"Not entirely, but it's a good start." She heaved another deep breath and explained further. "You asked me tonight, when you told me what you were going to make me do, why I hesitated, why I resisted." She inclined her head. "I haven't resisted strongly in a long time, but when you said," she paused, struggling inside herself. I waited. Then I spoke.
"Say it," I told her. "Say it out loud. Let me hear you sat it." Her eyes flashed at my stern tone, then lowered.
"You said you were taking me to a bar, and that you would pick out two men, and you wanted to watch me suck their cocks."
"Very good," I told her, using the assuring tone I reserved for when she completed a command. "Yes, that's right. So what's the problem?" I put distance in my voice, commanding and dispassionate. "You want to do what I want, right? You enjoy it, right?" I lowered my voice. "You're a dirty slut, who does nasty things when she's told, and enjoys debasing herself for me, right?" She nodded. "So what's the problem?" I repeated.
"I'm afraid," she whispered, "oh, Steven I'm afraid!" she repeated, desperation clearly evident in her voice. She had gotten to the crux of her dilemma. Her eyebrows lifted, pleading. "I'm so afraid," she whimpered, more softly, one more time.
I looked at her quizzically. "But you like it. I know you do. YOU know you do. You said so."
"Yes," she replied, timid and obedient.
"And you're afraid? Of what?" I asked. "Of me?"
"Oh, God, Steven; everything!" she blurted, and the floodgates opened and the words spilled from her in urgent, needy pleading. "Afraid of you, of what you make me do, of the sound of your voice. Afraid of your hands on me, how they make me feel. Afraid of what the next thing will be. Afraid I won't like it, afraid I WILL like it. Afraid of displeasing you, afraid of pleasing you too much, afraid of liking it, of liking it too much. Afraid I won't be able to stop. Afraid you'll stop, we'll stop." She blew out another breath, exasperated, but relief showed in her slightly slumped shoulders, free of her secret burden.
"I like it so much it scares me," she said, reaching out and resting her hand on my leg. "I even like the fear, God help me; the fear of not knowing what's next, what you'll make me do." Her eyes searched mine, begging for my understanding. "When you told me what you were going to make me do, when you said," she paused a second, then sat up straight, steeled herself. "You said you would make me suck two strangers' cocks while you watched, I- I-" she struggled for words, "I froze. Not because I wouldn't, or didn't want to." She leaned towards me. "Because I DID," she emphasized. "God, the idea took me so hard, I thought I might cum just from the thought. And I was afraid. Afraid it was too much, afraid it wouldn't be enough. Afraid you would see I liked it, and stop me." She leaned closer. "Afraid you would see how much I liked it, what a filthy, dirty slut I am; afraid you wouldn't want me. Afraid of what else I might do, what else you might want me to do."
Her shoulders slumped as the words finished. Assessing that she was done, I looked her over, examining her expression and gauging her mood, taking in all that she had told me. She looked hopeful and worried and frightened. I started slowly.
"That's quite a bit to carry around," I observed, and she nodded with gratitude. "You know I would never harm you, or allow anyone else to harm you." She nodded again, and smiled, a full heartfelt expanse of lips, warming her face. "I'm glad you shared your feelings with me," I narrated confidently, "and I can assure you that I cannot solve your problem; your fear is yours. I cannot take it away. And frankly, you slut, I don't think I want to." She blinked at me, confused. "I can, however, promise you that you WILL complete my plans tonight." I leaned into her, took her face in my hand and gripped her cheeks firmly between my fingers and thumb. "When we are done here, you will dress in a short skirt and buttoned blouse and heels; no bra and no panties. We will go out, and before the night is over you will have sucked the cocks of two strangers, and swallowed their cum." My voice was low, intense and stern. "I will watch you, slut, as you suck their cocks, like the cum-loving slut you are. You will show them your tits, and you will finger yourself as you suck them, and let them know how much you love it, how you love their cocks, desire their cum." I felt her body tremble. "Do you understand?"
She nodded in my grasp. I released her face. "Say it. Tell me what you want."
"Oh, Steven, I want it so bad." She swallowed nervously. "I want to be a slut, your slut," she confessed hotly. "I'll suck their hard cocks for you, I'll swallow their cum, fuck myself until I cum in front of them, God, it's so humiliating. Make me do it. Make me do this for you," she pleaded.
"You love it, don't you?" I asked, slipping my hand between her thighs, feeling the hot liquid spill from her as my fingers pried her lips apart. Her eyes closed and her head fell back, moaning as two fingers slid easily inside her. "You want to be a dirty slut; you know you are one," I whispered to her. "You need me to make you do it, don't you; you can't do it in your own. You want me to think of disgusting, awful and humiliating things for you to do, so you can enjoy it." I used her words against her, heightening her thrill. "You're afraid of what you really are, afraid of your desires. The fear makes you horny, doesn't it, slut?" Her lower lip caught under her teeth as she inhaled sharply, my fingers penetrating deeper, fucking her as I taunted. I pushed up hard into her and pressed my thumb to her clit and she gasped. "Say it. Admit it. Out loud."
She grabbed my forearm and pressed me into her harder, fucking herself onto my hand with an urgency that resembled madness. "Oh, fuck yes," she cried, "I'm a slut, I'm you're dirty slut and it scares me to death; I want to suck cock for you and fuck for you and do whatever you want, just tell me, scare me, make me be a whore, fuck, it makes me so hot! Fuck!" Her eyes rolled back and her mouth hung open, soundless, and she came on my hand, squeezing my forearm and pushing her cunt on my hand. Her body trembled, and shook, and then she breathed again, a long heavy exhale. She relaxed and released my arm.
I pulled my hand from between her legs and smeared her cum on her face, allowing her to lick her juices as I swiped her lips. "Don't clean up," I told her. "Get your clothes on. We're going out." I kissed her; hard. My tongue burrowed into her mouth and she panted into the kiss. I pulled back and stared into her eyes, my wet fingers gripping her cheeks. "And we are not coming home until you have two strangers cum in you, slut. Understand?"
Her eyes glowed with fear. "Yes," she hissed, "I do."