by Cynthia Dane
“You know…” Ken tossed his smoke onto his desk and folded his hands across his stomach. “I don’t appreciate you fucking with my feelings like that. If you don’t have a real grievance with me, then don’t do that. And if you do? You need to tell me. I don’t like having a knife twisted into my gut any more than you do, Lana.”
She didn’t say anything. She knew her lips’ place was on his cock, bringing him the relaxing pleasure he deserved.
“You know I love you, Bunny. It almost makes me sad that I have to punish you.”
Her thighs quivered. The more she fell into her headspace of servitude, the more she liked the idea of her husband making an example out of her.
Ken checked his watch. “I still need to rinse off in the shower and get my ass to bed. I’ll have to punish you here. Stop touching yourself and get up.”
She obeyed, but only because she liked that tone in his voice. Ken knew how to speak to her. Even when he was about to go 180 on her naughty ass, he could keep his tone low and reasonable. Yet Lana could see it in his eye. The look of a Dom who had to take matters into his own hands.
“Let me see your body.”
Lana pulled open her robe, the sash dangling toward the floor as her breasts poked out and her blond pubic hairs called coyly to her husband. She may be not much younger than Ken, but she knew how to take care of herself. Years of careful eating – since she had to take into account the calories in alcohol – exercising, yoga, and endless trips to the dermatologist meant she still had smooth skin, perky tits, and only minimal stretch marks and cellulite. Some things could not be helped, after all.
Yet even with her imperfections, she still felt confident, especially in front of her husband. Ken never gave her the impression that he found her anything but 100% fuckable. My confidence isn’t entirely tied into that, but I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t make me feel good. Ken’s expression didn’t change now, but he looked her up and down, admiring a body he had touched and penetrated a hundred-thousand times.
He had fucked her, smacked her in the appropriate places, and come on almost every inch of her skin in the span of a dozen years. And yet he still looked at her as if he were excited to do it all over again.
“Turn around and bend over.”
Lana bristled. “Are you going to spank me, Kenneth?”
“Do you want me to spank you?”
She shrugged, indifferent. “Only if you believe I deserve it.”
“No. You won’t learn anything from a spanking right now.” Ken leaned forward, his erection between him and his wife as he caressed her hips. “You need me to punish you with something other than my hand.”
Lana glanced at his erection.
“Yes, Bunny. Now do as I say. Turn around and bend over for me.”
The carpeted mat was soft against her feet as she turned and braced her hands against her husband’s desk. He better make this good. Lana wanted to feel properly punished. If Ken knew what was good for him, he would make her feel like the most obedient, grateful submissive in the universe.
I hope so. I need it.
“Spread your legs.”
She eased them open, feeling the carpeted mat turn into the natural hardwood of the floor.
“Show me your cunt.”
Cunt. Lana loved that word. It was right up there with “bitch” in her favorite things to call herself and the parts of her body. Other women danced around the harsh vulgarities. To a point, she understood. They weren’t interested in reclaiming the terrible things men had called them for generations. Lana didn’t mind. She would do it. She would look her husband in the eye and tell him to call it her cunt, especially when he intended on taking it for his. God, hearing those harsh sounds fall from his lips and growl in his throat made Lana feel the right amount of belittled and controlled.
She pushed her hand between her legs and once again opened herself. This time, however, it was to her husband, her Dom.
“Is this satisfactory?” she asked with only a hint of sarcasm. Lana couldn’t help it. Sarcasm was her natural speed. “Or should I give you more?” She rubbed her clit, moaning, feeling her fingertips grow wetter the more she stimulated herself in front of Ken’s eyes.
“I want to hear you beg for it, Lana. Beg for your punishment.”
“Please…” She pressed her breasts against the desk, reveling in the coolness against her nipples. “Punish me with your cock, sir. I’ve been misbehaving.”
“What did you do?”
Lana sucked in her breath, gazing at a stack of papers awaiting her husband’s signature. “You know what I’ve done, sir.”
“Now, Bunny, I want to hear you say it.”
Did she have to? This was probably a conversation best had when they weren’t having sex. “I doubted our marriage long enough to call my cousin again.”
“What else? I’m sure you’ve been misbehaving in other areas.” Ken teased her wet entrance with the head of his cock. “I want a full confession, Lana.”
She snorted. Like hell she was going in that deep – unlike him. “That’s it for today. Now fuck me before I…”
“Before you what?”
Lana threatened to back onto his cock. “Before I do it for you.”
She expected him to pin her down and make her behave. Instead, he tapped her ass and said, “Your eagerness precedes you. You know what they call women who can’t wait to get punished with a man’s cock, right?”
Ah, yes, one of Lana’s most favorite games. “Why, I believe they call them sluts, Kenneth.”
“The word slut has never suited you, Bunny. Pick a different one.”
She gritted her teeth with a smile. “Call me a whore.”
“You always go for the most scandalous words, Lana.”
Muscles tightened as she craned her head over her shoulder. “That’s one of the reasons you love me, baby.”
“You definitely make it interesting.” Ken grabbed her hips and brought her onto his cock, his length filling her, pushing deep, deeper until she was gasping against his desk. Her knuckles were already white from squeezing way too damn hard.
He gave her two easy thrusts. Then he showed her no mercy.
“Shit!” Lana slapped a hand against her husband’s desk as his cock attempted to take her by surprise. “Oh, fuck!”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Ken was the kind of man who was way too composed when he did his wife. When they were like this? It turned Lana on like nothing else. If any man was going to take control of her, it better be a man who only started growling when he fucked like this. Lana didn’t have room in her life for men who lost it the moment they started pumping away like famished idiots.
“Fuck me, Kenneth!” Her body was pushed against the desk, her breasts trapped against stained oak and her pussy stretched to its meager limits. “For the love of God!”
This was what a few days without sex did to her. Turn her into a screaming banshee.
“That’s right, Lana.” Ken wasn’t louder than her, but she could hear him, and that was all that mattered. “Take my cock.”
He grabbed her by the sides, pulling her up far enough to slip his hands beneath her robe and clutch her breasts. Oh, no, I’m taken. Her husband behind her, inside her, in front of her… if Lana was going to bottom for any man in the world, it was one who knew how to do this to her… who knew how to tame the wild tigress she saw herself as.
Ken’s thrusts increased. Soon she was wet enough for him to take her so hard that she heard nothing but his skin slapping against hers. Oh my mother fucking fuck fuck! She balled her hands into fists and pressed them against the desk.
“Punish me, sir!” She lived for this. For the sheer amount of attention she received from him, his cock stretching her open and claiming her innermost chambers. His hands all over her. His breath increasing, as he refused to let her go. “Fuck me!”
“That’s right, Lana.” Ken pushed her onto the tabl
e, forcing himself into her as she moaned against the papers in need of signing. I just signed them with my DNA. How’s that? No doubt more than a little saliva got all over those pristine white pages. “You can’t be satisfied, can you? You’re always looking for your next thrill to get you by.”
She whimpered into his papers, her hips slamming against the edge of the desk from the impact of his thrusts.
“You’re a whore, aren’t you?”
The power in that word nearly sent her to the edge. Yes, yes, call me a whore you bastard. Demean her, dirty her, make her feel like her entire existence circled around taking pleasure into her body. Her husband’s pleasure.
“Does it feel good?” Ken gave her an extra hard thrust in case she wasn’t feeling good enough. “Do you get off on men fucking you in the cunt?”
Yes, yes, and more yes.
Too bad Lana was past the point of forming coherent words. She was already coming, her pussy searching for more of her husband’s cock to take deeper inside. As the quick orgasm subsided, Ken pulled up her hip and slammed into her. They had entered the phase of it being all about his pleasure now.
“Fuck me! Fuck my cunt! Fuck!”
“Good.” Ken grabbed a chunk of her hair and pulled her head back. “Beg for it!”
“Yes! Give it to me!”
“Are you a filthy woman who needs to be punished?”
Every word lit a spark within her. The nastier he got, the hotter she got. “For fuck’s sake yes!”
“And what do women like you get as their punishment, Lana?”
The pleasure was getting to her again. She knew Ken was close. His heavy breaths, the intensity of his thrusts, and that sweet tone in his throat told her she was about to get her punishment. It made her relax around his cock – as much as she could, anyway! – and prepare to accept his climax into her body.
“What do they get?”
His shouts startled her in all the right ways. Just as he was about to ask again, Lana cried back, “They get…!” She couldn’t say it, but they both knew what she was thinking.
He proved she was right by holding her down on his desk, his cock stilling deep inside her as the first and second bursts of his seed came.
They were hot inside her. Lana screamed into the desk as she felt them, her body nothing more than a receptacle for her husband’s needs, wants, desires, wishes. He could use her however he wanted. He could throw her on her back after this and fill her up more. He could come on her face for all she cared. Make her swallow it as it hit the back of her throat. Coat her breasts, her stomach…
Her thighs…
Those last ones got the final part of Ken’s orgasm as he pulled out in time to cover her left thigh. Between that and fluids flowing out of her with carefully timed contractions of her inner walls, Lana was done.
Punished, and done.
“My gorgeous girl,” Ken said, wrapping his hand gently around the front of her throat and easing her onto her side. Liquid spilled down her leg until it wrapped around her knee, threatening to touch her husband’s desk. “At least I’ll always have a place to shove my dick and let loose what makes me a man.”
Lana would’ve cackled into her arms if she had the strength.
Her husband sank back into his chair, staring at the ceiling as he attempted to catch his breath.
“And to think… I just showered.” Lana stood up, covering her ass with her robe before leaning against the desk. She left the front of her robe open and legs slightly spread so Ken had a good view of what he had done to her. “At least I was sufficiently punished. There is that.”
Ken regarded her with a stoic visage. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I want lots of things.”
“I know that. You have the most voracious appetite of any woman I know.”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
Ken managed a wan smile. “I’d offer to give you another round, Bunny, but I really need to wash up and turn in. I’ll do you again tomorrow.”
Lana stepped forward, licking her fingers and patting down a tuft of his hair. “You’ll fuck me whenever I damn well please, whore.” She could throw that right back at him. With a pat to his cheek, Lana moved away, tying her robe close to her body as she mentally called dibs on their master suite. “Good night, Kenneth.”
He watched after her with a look she couldn’t read. Was he wistful? In love? Bored? “Good night, Bunny. Be there soon.”
Lana twiddled her fingers at him before opening the door and stepping out into the hall.
An empty cup dropped at her feet.
“Uh…” Chloe stepped back, tray slammed against her breasts. “Excuse me, ma’am… I was going to… give Mr. Andrews…”
“Sure you were.” Any good feelings Lana had dissipated the moment she saw this tart standing outside the door. She was listening to us screw like kinky assholes. She had to contain a smile. Lana did love a good game of exhibitionism. Too bad she didn’t care much for her maid or the constant thoughts she had of Chloe going into Ken’s office for the sole purpose of giving him something. Like a blowjob, probably. That’s my job, you useless…
“I’ll be going. Good night, ma’am.” Chloe scurried away. Too bad. If she stuck around to watch Lana saunter down the hall, she would’ve had a great view of the sensual mess making its way down to her mistress’s ankle. I need another shower, the bastard.
Finally, Lana released her cackle, letting it echo in the wide halls of the mansion she paid half for. This is my half. The rooms full of debauchery and marriage-crumbling mind games belonged solely to the Queen of Kink.
Chapter 3
“Nice Ass, Mr. Andrews.”
No time like the present to get some vitamin D, was something Lana always thought when she had nothing else to do and the day was warm enough for a bikini. So early the next day she dressed in her favorite black two-piece and wandered out back to the pool, where husband Ken did his twenty laps of butterfly strokes.
She had forgotten he was due home already, let alone after lunch. After his early morning meeting, Ken texted her saying he was canceling his afternoon appointments to spend much-needed time at home. Lana had hoped that meant some time for her, but here they were, on opposite ends of the earth even though they were only a few yards away from each other.
“Oh, my studly muffin of a prime-meat man,” she said, well aware that he couldn’t hear her as she stretched out on a lounge chair. Lana lowered her sunglasses and draped a barely-there sheet over her. “Making all of that noise when all I want to do is relax.” She should have brought her music.
Or at least her E-book tablet with the fancy ink that let her read in the sunlight. Not that she knew what she would read. The last time Lana read a novel was at least two years ago. Who had time? If she read, it was shit like The New Yorker or Reader’s Digest. Or articles on the internet. Sometimes she wondered if she had adult ADHD, since her ability to concentrate on the written word was next to nothing. And yet I come so easily. Her sister had adult ADHD, and the main thing she always griped about was taking forty-five minutes to come because she kept getting distracted during sex. If I had that problem, I would die.
Good thing she didn’t have the problem.
With no peace and no distractions, Lana stared at the sky, catching the few clouds that made their way in the big, blue expanse that was the cosmos. That one looks like a tree. When she turned her head, she changed her mind and decided it was a mushroom. That one’s a dick. Never let be said she wasn’t focused on only one thing.
The incessant splashing stopped in the pool. Lana glanced over, catching the exact moment her husband heaved himself out of the water and onto the edge of the pool. His black swim trunks clung to his muscular thighs – oh, and his butt too. Lana whistled as he walked by, bending over another lounge chair to pick up a towel.
“Nice ass, Mr. Andrews.”
Ken draped the white terrycloth ove
r his head and walked to where his wife lay, sunning herself. Or at least until her husband blocked out the sun. “Nice tits, Mrs. Andrews.”
She gestured to her cleavage sticking out of her bikini top. “These old things? I need to get my husband to buy me a new pair.”
Water droplets landed on Lana’s stomach as he shook his wet hair out. “I’m sure he would if you asked. Although I hear you can buy them for yourself.”
“It’s not the same. I’d feel more special with fake tits from my husband. How about for our anniversary?”
Ken looked at her incredulously. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”
“What? No.”
Before Ken could open his mouth again, a young voice pealed through the patio.
“Mr. Andrews!” Chloe scuttled out in her flats, waving a stout package in the air. “The mail came and this was rushed to you!”
Ken tossed his towel aside, bestowing Chloe with the full force of his muscular figure. The girl stopped dead in her tracks, gaping at him, box hanging at her side.
“The package?” Ken asked, holding his hand out.
“Oh, yeah.” Finally, Chloe stepped forward. Ken snatched the package from her as if it were nothing.
He turned away from Lana and inspected his mail. His wife, meanwhile, sat up and kicked her legs over the side of her lounge chair. “That’ll be all, Chloe,” she said curtly. “I’m sure you have other things to be doing.” And one of those things is not staring at my husband’s body. That was Lana’s job around those parts.
“No, wait a second, please.” Ken motioned for Chloe to come to him, where they conspired about something over by the bushes. What the? Lana jumped up, snatching her husband’s towel from its lounge chair and wrapping it around her body.
Just as she was about to descend upon husband and help, Ken shoved the package in Chloe’s hands and practically shoved her toward the house.
“You know where to leave it,” he hissed.
Lana stopped. Oh hell no. She watched Chloe scurry back into the mansion as if her ass were lit in an inferno.