Who Has Control?

I walked in our dark room.
'I'm still awake', he said.

I pulled back the duvet and looked at his naked body, shape and muscles illuminated by the orange glow from the alarm clock. I lay curled up at his side and rested my head on the top of his leg. His cock began to harden as if it was reaching for my mouth. A temptation too far. I took him between my lips. He tasted and felt good but i was feeling selfish, possibly even a little neglected.

I rolled away and onto my back, spreading my legs inviting a fuck. I was grinding my arse into the bed, willing him to take control of me. Fuck me, fuck me hard. Fuck me so my whole body is forced up the bed, wrap your arms tightly around my thighs, drive your cock into me. Use your strength to render me helpless.

And he did. He pumped his cock inside me, groaning and panting. We roamed all over our bed. I offered myself to him in different positions, trying, willing him to treat me as his toy, his possession.
On all fours, my back stretched out like a cat with its claws tearing at the sheets. I raised my bottom in the air, daring him to go deeper inside me.
'You're a dirty girl' he said between breaths.
He has no idea of all the filth trapped in my throat that i so want to let go of.

I got what i wanted but there is no doubt in my mind that it is me who initiates and encourages. Maybe that is the way our relationship works, it always has done. I wonder what it would be like if he took control of me. Would i fight it? Would i be able to give up the power? Would he be able to accept the position of authority? I'd like to know the answer.