Dominate Desire: A Burning Takeover

The empty nest felt vast and echoing, a stark contrast to the recent, frenzied intimacy they’d shared. It had been almost four months since Mel had unleashed her fury upon Donnie, a torrent of pent-up frustration that culminated in a brutal, restrained assault upstairs. The initial weeks after that night had been marked by a hesitant, almost combative energy in their bedroom, a strange mix of vulnerability and defiance. Each time Mel asserted her dominance, Donnie would submit, a calculated move designed to reclaim some semblance of control. But he found himself consistently yielding to her lead, a disconcerting shift in their dynamic that both intrigued and unsettled him.

He’d discovered an online sex survey designed for couples, a tool intended to facilitate more open discussions about their fantasies. “Taking Control” was the second installment in a series, this time placing him firmly in the driver’s seat. The survey promised to reveal shared desires, hidden kinks, and potential areas for exploration, a digital key to unlocking deeper levels of intimacy. The survey itself only showed the topics they both agreed on, but the benefits were already apparent: they were talking about sex more frequently and openly, breaking down the walls of silence that had previously separated them.

Tonight, Mel had lightly pushed Donnie while they were kissing, a playful jab that served as a subtle reminder of their recent history. He sank to the bed, face down in his boxers, an instinctive reaction to her aggression. “I’m yours,” he murmured, a surrender both vulnerable and enticing.

“Really, Donnie?” Mel responded, her voice laced with amusement and a hint of challenge. “You’re giving in that easily? Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy taking a little aggression out on you now and then while we fuck. But as you should see, I’m not angry tonight.”

A flicker of clarity ignited within him, a realization that she was right. The initial rage had dissipated, replaced by a strange acceptance and a desire for something different. “I could go eat peanut butter off the knife and reuse it to make you a sandwich,” he said playfully, referencing one of her most potent pet peeves. They shared a laugh, a brief respite from the lingering tension, before resuming their missionary position and falling into a deep, restful sleep.

The following Saturday morning, Donnie awoke to find Mel still naked beside him. He pulled up the results of the online survey they’d taken together, a digital record of their shared fantasies and preferences. The survey had unearthed their mutual desire for a reversal of power dynamics, as well as several other minor kinks they’d previously explored, such as the use of toys and sensual massages. But the most significant outcome had been the increased frequency of their discussions about sex, a welcome change from their previous guarded approach.

Mel rolled over, her eyes half-open, stretching languidly as she pushed the comforter off her body, exposing her breasts for a fleeting moment. Then, she quickly pulled the covers back up, a subtle display of dominance, and crossed her arms across her chest, her face hidden in the pillow. “Whatcha looking at?” she mumbled.

Without taking his eyes off the phone, Donnie hesitated before making the statement. “Let’s take the survey again.”

He genuinely enjoyed these situations; the unpredictability and the thrill of the unknown kept things fresh and exciting. He couldn't help but wonder if his wife would be as restrained as he anticipated when sharing her innermost thoughts on an online survey. She’d been exposed to various kinks through emails from an anonymous online relationship, a clandestine affair that had been discovered five years prior. He suspected she might hold back on revealing her true desires, but there was always the possibility that her curiosity would lead her down unexpected paths.

As he scrolled through her results, Donnie searched for something she hadn't marked as a definite no, something that might require his attention. He found a list of activities she’d tentatively labeled as “maybe,” including certain types of bondage, sensual play involving blindfolds, and even a request for simulated pregnancy.

Mel rolled over, her eyes half open. She stretched like a cat, pushing the comforter off her and exposing her breasts just for a moment. Then she cinched the covers back up over her and crossed his chest with her arm, her face in the pillow. “Really, Donnie?” she asked, her voice muffled. “You’re giving in that easily? Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy taking a little aggression out on you now and then while we fuck. But as you should see, I’m not angry tonight.”

He spun around, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him, realizing that she was right. Maybe he’d been falling into this rut, stuck in a monotonous pattern of submission and control. “I could go eat peanut butter off the knife and reuse it to make you a sandwich,” he said playfully, a desperate attempt to break the tension. He knew that was her ultimate pet peeve. They laughed and enjoyed a more passionate missionary position before drifting back to sleep.

The next morning, Donnie awoke to find Mel still naked beside him. He pulled up the results of the survey once more, confirming his suspicions about her shared fantasies. The list of "maybes" was extensive, a testament to her openness and willingness to explore new experiences.

“I don’t really know, but I believe I’m a switch and would be just as happy being submissive as I am with being dominant,” he thought, recognizing a potential vulnerability in her dynamic. “If we ever do walk through the door where my role turns submissive, it could become my fall back, ESPECIALLY if my wife enjoys dominating.”

He realized that this story was examining both that issue and his own fantasy of her relinquishing control and trusting him to push her boundaries in certain areas she might find appealing.

Tonight, Mel had lightly pushed Donnie while they were kissing, getting ready for bed and perhaps more. He sank to the bed, face down in just his boxers. “I’m yours,” he said, a surrender that felt both vulnerable and strangely liberating.

“Really, Donnie?” she responded, her voice tinged with amusement. “You’re giving in that easily? Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy taking a little aggression out on you now and then while we fuck. But as you should see, I’m not angry tonight.”

He spun around, a surge of clarity washing over him. Maybe he’d been stuck in a rut, clinging to a rigid routine that lacked spontaneity and excitement. “I could go eat peanut butter off the knife and reuse it to make you a sandwich,” he said playfully, referencing her deep-seated aversion to that particular food combination. They shared a laugh, a brief moment of levity before returning to their usual routine.

As they settled into a comfortable missionary position, Donnie felt a subtle shift in their dynamic, a delicate balance between submission and control. He wasn't entirely comfortable with relinquishing all power, but he was willing to explore the possibility of a more intimate, reciprocal relationship.

Donnie awoke Saturday morning. Mel still slept naked beside him as he pulled up the results of the online survey they took together a while back. There they had found the shared desire for control reversal, as well as other small things that they had tried: toys and massages. But the main benefit had been that they did talk more about sex. The survey worked such that it only shared the topics that slightly or greatly interested you BOTH. Donnie scrolled through her results again, looking for something she hadn’t marked as a definite no that may need his attention.

Mel rolled over, her eyes half open. She stretched like a cat, pushing the comforter off her and exposing her breasts just for a moment. Then she cinched the covers back up over her and crossed his chest with her arm, her face in the pillow. “Whatcha looking at?”

Without looking away from the phone, he hesitated before making THE statement. “Let’s take the survey again.”

He enjoyed writing these because he never knew where the story was going to go. They were truly an organic fantasy based around a loose premise. He had no idea if his wife would hold back on her true sexual thoughts taking an online survey. But knowing her for over 25 years now, he would say she would show restraint in sharing her answer. OR she might simply not think she would enjoy something when after a little exploration, more sexual curiosity could emerge.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” was Mel’s initial response. Donnie did as Donnie does and clammed up, almost getting angry about it. He thought it was a brilliant idea. Then his mind flipped back to last night and her “disappointment” in his quick submission. A little more anger stirred. Mel began to slide out of bed, but Donnie grabbed her thigh and quickly pulled her back to him. Their hips lined up, and his cock swelled quickly.

“I gotta pee!” she said, but Donnie’s grip didn’t let her out. Instead, he pushed forward as he moved her under him and entered her quickly from behind. “Donnie!”

He didn’t hear. He let his ire fuel him and felt Mel’s struggle subside as he drove deep into her pussy. Her first elevated moan of discomfort settled into a deep sigh followed by deep breaths. He pulled back and slammed into her, causing the bed to rock and her head to push to the wall. Again and again, he used adrenaline and irritation to fuel his need to make her as uncomfortable as possible without actually hurting her.

“You Fucker!” she exclaimed cumming and almost peeing the bed at the same time. “Ohhh, You FUCKER!”

He was close behind her, filling her up with force unexpected given that he had climaxed hard the night before. He pulled out and bounced the head of his cock on her ass and threw the covers off of her as he walked naked past a half-dozen uncovered windows to his bathroom to shower. Cum that had flung onto his thigh cooled in the open air raising a grin on his face as he tested the water.

Only twice in our 20+ years of marriage have I restrained my wife and felt she didn’t totally enjoy what was happening and tried to get free. Both times I pushed her comfort level a little and then released her, not wanting to take it too far.

“Coffee?” Donnie offered when she returned from the shower. Mel looked at him with a combination of curiosity and annoyance. His phone was on the bed, not the end table where he had placed it before taking her earlier. When Donnie picked it up and opened it, the screen was on “His Survey.” There she must have read all the answers that he submitted, not only the ones they both agreed on. It showed all of the things he was interested in trying.

“You’re messed up, Donnie,” she said with little emotion. He was both worried and curious where this was going to go. He was about to ask her the next question, but then she continued, “No wonder you want me to retake it,” she said, pointing at the phone. “What do you expect?”

What would happen if every kink and desire of mine would be laid out there for her to see? I know she’s been exposed to a lot of them through emails from an online relationship, my only infidelity, which she discovered five years ago. The prospect of them honestly put out there has me curious.

He looked up then to see her wet hair, body wrapped in a towel, fresh from a good night and morning together. “I guess I expect conversation,” he said.

She smiled and nodded, an apparent assent, and they went about a usual Saturday.

He tried to get some things done. But in his head, Donnie ran through the things he listed as ‘for sure’ and ‘maybe’ on his survey. He wondered what to bring up, and when. He was able to clean out some of the basement but definitely wasn’t as far along as he could have been. Mel was much more productive: she washed laundry, followed by yoga (in really hot yoga pants), and then did some cooking for a church dinner the next day.

“Let’s go out for dinner,” he settled on asking her as she cooked. “You don’t need to start dinner when you finish with that stuff.”

She didn’t respond or stop working at first, just kept cutting vegetables. Donnie knew not to interrupt. That’s never worked in all their years together. She heard him but kept chopping.

“Okay,” he said sliding off the barstool at their island. “Just let me know what you think when you’re finished.”

“Let’s go,” Mel said and grabbed the keys. “I’ll drive.”

Confused, Donnie followed her to the car, and they sped away. They traveled in silence about ten miles down county road 28. A few times he glanced over at Mel, her gaze on the road. Her mouth sometimes pursed, sometimes fell slightly open, and a couple of times hung agape. Not once did she look over or start a conversation.

Just then he noticed she’d changed into some jeans and nice bra/cami/sweater combo that showed off her chest and sleek torso.

He was about to compliment her when it was like she sensed it and blurted, “Masturbate for me.”

“What?!” Donnie said.

“Or how about we switch over and I masturbate for you?” Her gaze slid over to him and back to the road repeatedly. “I mean… Donnie, what the hell with that list?”

He hesitated. “I guess I expect conversation.”

As they approached the Grey Goose, a place in the middle of nowhere that specialized in burgers the size of steaks and steaks the size of roasts, the conversation shifted. They hand-battered their mozzarella sticks and mixed a mean authentic margarita.

The usual analyzing of their friends or work talk continued through getting drinks and dinner ordered. But once a few sips of a good Patron margarita were downed, Mel jumped into a pause in the conversation.

“I think we should take the survey again,” she said, leaning toward him across the table. “I fear that not much will change on my end and my answers may be biased now that I’ve seen your list.”

Donnie had carefully thought out how he was going to steer this conversation. Too often he’d melted to either her hesitation or prior bad experiences. He’d known for years he was playing it too much on her terms, too easy, too reserved. This time he was ready to respond.

“Why don’t you masturbate?” he asked boldly. “You could be the only human on the planet that doesn’t masturbate.”

She stirred her drink, intently looking at him. “I don’t like it, okay?”

“This is a good example of where you’ve been raised a certain way, and you’ve had things shut down for one reason or another,” Donnie said respectfully. “I want you to discover your body and how pleasurable married sex can be. Masturbating, alone or for your spouse, is okay.”

“I’ve masturbated,” she said. “Just not a lot.”

“We don’t have a lot of oral sex, either way,” he replied. “You know I’d go down on you for hours.”

“Let’s go,” Mel said, and she grabbed the keys. “I’ll drive.”

As they sped down the road, Donnie realized that he was enjoying this dynamic, this push and pull between dominance and submission. He wasn't sure if he was ready to relinquish all control, but he was willing to explore the possibility of a more intimate, reciprocal relationship. The survey had opened up a new world of possibilities, a chance to confront his own insecurities and challenge his preconceived notions about sex and intimacy.

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