[NSFW] What Is Your Desire? v2

>>Fairly NSFW script<<

And so here you are, just another girl on the internet, looking for the most... natural of highs.

Tell me, what are you seeking? What is your fantasy? What do you want?

Do you envision a shadow? The unknown one, the one hunting you down, the one who will one day catch you, just when and where he wants you. You'll want to scream, escape this sudden assault, even as your slit wettens in anticipation of what the hardness pressing into your spine will do to you. You'll struggle in lieu of the cries that the hand clamped around your mouth prohibits you from emitting, but you struggle in vain. He chose his prey. He chose you, above all others. And you will be his, he will possess you, take you, and there is nothing you can do about it. There is no escape in the darkness.

Or maybe there is. Maybe the shadow's only the start. The motivator and opportunity for your true fantasy to show his mettle. The white knight, riding to your rescue, driving away the attacker, offering you his hand, helping you to your feet. All smiles and chivalry, strong and respectful, tall and handsome. You won't have to resist him, he'll resist you. It's only natural for you to wish to thank him for his intervention, but he'll speak only of how it would be taking advantage of a woman in distress. He'll resist your seductions, deny his own desire for your body, but in the end, he'll succumb, and the power that so effortlessly dispelled the shadow will set your nerves alight, wracking your body with pleasure again and again and again, and once you're done, he'll pledge himself to your service, his power yours for all time.

Hmm... Servant. There's a thought, is that what you desire? A servant, immaculately turned out, upright, polite, prim even... In public. But ultimately, mistress's will, is his command. Taking care of the house, pampering his Lady, serving her every need, every wish. Does mistress require another glass of wine? More grapes? Oh... Mistress requires one to undress. Of course Ma'am, be happy to comply. Oh... Mistress requires one on his knees? Of course Ma'am. Oh... Mistress... Mistress requies the use of one's mouth? Of course Ma'am... -smile- And of course, when his other offices are called upon, he'll do his best to keep his pecker up, turn in a customarily  robust performance. Anything for his Lady.

Or maybe you want more... Not merely a Lady you... No... Maybe you wish to be the Goddess, to a willing, eager slutty slaveboy. A pathetic creature worshipping at the altar of you, your every whim, nothing less than a divine command. A boy-toy, for you to do with as you please. What will you desire today? Will you honour him by letting him lick your boots, your nipples, or has he been a good enough pet to taste your nectar. Will you remove the plug from his arse and replace it with your strap-on, that you may take him, fuck him, drive into him again and again, laughing with glee at every girlish whimper falling from his lips. Perhaps it is mistress's will that her servant cage his cock for her, handing her the key, and attempting to earn his release with his tongue, trying time and time again, and every time in vain. Or perhaps, you just want him restrained and begging, edging him, over and over again, that small voice pleading 'please allow me to cum, please'?

Or is you who wishes to be the slave. The toy? Just a worthless cumdump in the hard, cruel eyes of your sadistic master, good only to be used as a barely animate sexdoll, after all you're incapable of anything else, that's why he beats you. Oh yes, there's not a square inch of your flesh unmarked by his whip, even your nipples and clit have tasted the sharp lick of that lightning leather. And now you've screwed up again. You're not just a glutton for punishment, you're a whore for it, and so it is time. Time for you to step up to that cross, place your wrists and ankles in the bonds, and scream in agony and ecstasy as the whip cracks across your skin, adding more welts to an already impressive collection. Who knows, maybe this time he'll even draw blood.

Or did you have a more reasonable disciplinarian in mind? Strict, but fair. No cruelty in those eyes, just precise, cool calculation. So you've failed him, and in accordance with his rules, he will drive you to your knees, hands of iron on your shoulder, in your hair, as you attempt to mitigate your mistake with your mouth. And once you've swallowed his seed, he'll decide what to do with you. Maybe your mouth was enough of an apology, your gagging enough contrition. Maybe he'll spank you like the naughty girl you are, admonishing you not to do it again. Who knows, maybe he has more creative measures in mind. After all, he see's your potential. Your potential to be the perfect servant. The perfectly obedient slut. Nothing to be gained by traumatising you, no, no... He has a lesson to teach you, to further your education in servitude. He disciplines you to mould you, shape you, and one day soon, he won't have to anymore. And on that day, you will feel nothing but pleasure, rejoicing in the knowledge that your master is not just satisfied, but pleased with you.

Or maybe the kink is a game, and an experiment. And he, accordingly, is less the dom, and more the technician, with clever hands, and a quick mind. You'll give yourself over to him, that he may explore, experiment, practice his craft, your body, his test subject, his model. The ropes go around you, embracing, confining, and making you all the more beautiful, splaying across your flesh in precise patterns of colour and sensation. Harnesses, crotch ropes, leg folds and sleeves, every variation, every tie. And that's just the start. Because on the side is that logbook of his, the one recording how you react to stimulus. What will today's test be? A vibrator held on your clit, for twenty minutes on speed setting three, with the subject's feet under the duvet? Or will it be a repeat of yesterday, scienctific investigation must be rigourous and repeatable after all... Or maybe there's no designed experiment today, just the application of lessons learned, with every flick of a feather, every tease of a tongue, every least touch, purposely chosen to drive you out of your skull with pleasure. Rehearsals are done for now,so it's time for him to play the full sexual symphony, with you as his orchestra.

Perhaps something else? Something a little more conventional. Not a master, just a bad boy. The black sheep, clad in blacker leather, the one who won't hesitate, whose sparkling smile disguises hard eyes. He'll seduce you with his direct desire, targeting you with all the tricks of the trade, and you'll let him have his victory... And his prize. You'll let him walk you home, knowing that when you get there, the smile will vanish. Claws unsheathed, he'll slam you up against the wall, strip you bare, no gentleness, no care, no time. To time, but that which ticks past with every metronomic invasion of your cunt, the wall against your chest a cold contrast to the inferno behind you, in you. And when you've recovered your senses, finding yourself a heap of flesh on the floor, he'll grant you a last smile to thank you and the click of the latch as he closes your door behind him.

How about something more... primitive? Not a modern predator, but a raging bull. Pure primal need. Teeth bared, growling in your ears, he'll rut with you, cow. Both reduced to base need, he'll plunge into you over and over, posessing your willingly surrendered body and soul, demanding your present and your future, and as you scream your desire to carry his child, to be bred by him, you'll feel him inside, succumbing to the suction of your inner muscles.  He will flood your fertile womb with his seed. Breeding you. And as you both collapse, his arms closed around you, you'll hear him whisper, 'Well that's round one...'

Of course, maybe you're higher minded than that, and just want the arms. And a smile that's not just the shark smile of a predator, but the private smile of a lover, as he wraps arms of gentle steel around the woman he loves. Words of comfort trip off his tongue and trickle into your ears, filling your soul with warmth, even as the warmth of his body, so close to you, seeps through your skin. In the dark or in the light, you know that flame is yours to keep, flickering maybe, but never going out. And so, in the cocoon of your shared bed, you move together, no barriers, only connection, two souls, two bodies, merging into one, finding sweet sanctuary from the storms outside your windows.

Of course, your desires here might be simpler. No fantasy for you, just the moans and fap-fap-fap sounds of a man getting himself off, maybe describing what he's doing to himself, or even what he wants you to do to yourself right along with him. Or perhaps the classic countdown, voice and composure getting shaky as the numbers tick away. Maybe you want him to lube up that cock he's wanking for you, so you can close your eyes and imagine that the dildo thrusting in and out twixt your nethers is a real cock.

So come on now, don't be shy. Tell us of your desires girl. I'm sure we can do something for you.