Archive of Our Own

But it’s once you’re over her lap on the luxurious leather of the back seat that you well and truly understand. 

She insisted on christening her extravagant purchase and now she’s four fingers deep, hooking into your g-spot with ruthless intent. You’re practically seeing stars, or maybe it’s just the starlight headliner. And even with your face against the leather, you know you’re screaming so loud the neighbors can probably hear, but at least the heavy tint obscures the explicit details. At this point, fuck it, you’re much too far gone to care.

“How do you like the new car, my love?” she asks you sweetly, as if she’s not drawing the filthiest sounds from both your mouth and your cunt. 

“Mmmfuck…I love it,” you moan and push back against her hand. 

“And do you love when I take you like this?” she continues, the sweetness of her voice fading into a rough, domineering tone. Her thrusts grow harder still and you can feel yourself drooling onto the buttery leather. “Fucking you in the back of my car like I’ve paid for you.”

You come immediately, throbbing hard around her fingers as you thrash and sob. Her pace does not waver in the slightest and you’re overly sensitive when you’re finally able to gasp out, “I came…fuck, I already came!”

“Then come again!” she snaps at you, redoubling her efforts while you whimper and howl. She then rotates her hand, using her knuckles to stimulate you from the inside before circling her thumb around your ass. Now you’re definitely seeing stars. 

It surprises you both when you do come for the second time and a rush of liquid coats Alcina’s hand and much of the bench seat. You’re too boneless over her lap to care, but she looks on in disbelief, her tone dumbfounded as she says, “well, that’s new…”

You’re laughing like a maniac with your cheek still smashed to the seat, delirious with pleasure and gleeful that your wife was both punished and rewarded for her righteous cause. 

Alcina slips her fingertip around your clit again because she always gets the last laugh and you jerk from the touch, moaning out, “If you touch me again I’m going to fucking explode…” 

“You already did, all over my new upholstery,” she says, heeding your warning and moving her hand to soothingly rub the back of your thigh instead. She sounds annoyed, but you know how smug she gets when she reduces you to a puddle—this time literally.

“You said you wanted a christening…” 

At that, she sits you up to straddle her lap. The position makes you whine a little as your thoroughly fucked cunt settles against the fabric of her tailored wool trousers. 

“I’ll have the detailers come by tomorrow,” she says casually, because truly you know that she does not give a fuck about the cost of the cleaning. And she evidences it by only looking over your face, ignoring anything else to make sure you’re alright and well cared for after her rough treatment of you. 

You hum contently when she folds you into her embrace, your face now resting against her perfumed neck. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” you tease before kissing her collarbone.

She only grumbles under her breath in response. 

You're up against the chilled tiles, knees hooked over Alcina’s elbows, face buried in her hair to keep the shower spray from absolutely drowning you. Your fingers are buried in her hair as well, tugging at the sleek, wet strands and making her growl against your ear. 

Two weeks away from your wife for an irregular business trip was certainly longer than either of you preferred. And it was the reason you had left your threes daughters with their Aunt Donna to surprise Alcina in her hotel room. In return, she had surprised you by arriving earlier than expected, catching you primping for her in the en suite. The lingerie never even had a chance to leave your luggage before you were clawing at each other, but the harness and toy you had brought certainly made their way to Alcina’s hips. 

And she was currently using those strong hips to leverage your weight, fucking you into the wall with hard, measured strokes. It was nearly too much, too deep, each thrust making you ache and clench around her, the painfully pleasurable cycle repeating itself over and over again.

She wants to come, you can tell by the way her grunts turn to higher whimpers and she forcefully presses her nose and forehead against your neck. When she’s deep in your cunt like this, she can never fight the delicious friction of her clit against the toy for very long, and it makes you feel like a fucking goddess. 

“Are you close?” she rasps, her hips beginning to lunge even harder against yours. “I’m going to come soon, you feel too good.”

Snaking her fingers between your bodies, she begins circling your clit, making you arch and cry out. Your hand loses purchase and it slips against the small ledge shelf, sending something metallic clattering against the grate of the drain; probably just a razor or hair clip.

“You need to c-co—I’m—fuck!”

You rolling your hips did nothing to help her last and you moan a wicked laugh as Alcina comes against you, pressing your bodies impossibly closer as she trembles and ruts. Her thrusts lose their rhythm but she keeps the strap rammed up inside you, the heavy pressure and the sounds of her harsh breathing bringing you to the edge with her.  

After several minutes of panting against each other, it’s your turn to whimper as she gently pulls out.

“Christ, you’re amazing,” she eventually laughs, finding her voice again and slowly lowering your feet back to the floor. “And so fucking sexy, I’ve missed you,” she continues, sucking your wet nipples into her mouth while she massages at your stiff hips and thighs.

“You did all the work,” you giggle as she slides her fingers along your cunt, admiring the mess she made. You squeal and squirm as she teases your too sensitive clit. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asks and then raises her head to look into your eyes from her full height. She’s over a foot taller than you and always worried that she might somehow break you, even after years of marriage and acrobatic sex.

“Of course not,” you reassure her, “but something fell on the floor. I heard it fall right before I made you come all over yourself.”

She growls at that comment and abruptly turns you around, palms to tiles, before giving your ass a swat. She nestles the toy between your thighs and thrusts it lazily along your slippery center. 

“I seem to remember my cock buried in your cunt when I came…” she whispers in your ear, hand already fisting your hair. “Exactly where it belongs.”

The second round commenced and did not end until you were near passed out in the crisp, white hotel sheets. You’re just on the edge of sleep, dozing in and out, when Alcina gently rubbing your knuckles has you bolting upright. 

“Alcina, where’s my wedding ring!?” 

Your gazes meet in horror as you both recall the metallic sounds clinking around the shower drain.

“Fuck!” 

When she gets the plumbing bill from the hotel, Alcina kicks her feet up on her desk and cackles at the memory. You don't find anything funny about having to spend three grand to have your wedding ring fished out of the sewer, but she simply tells you the shower sex was worth it.

The one time she did accidentally hurt you, it was the cherry on top of the sex shenanigans cake that you both had been frosting for years. 

"Sorry I'm late, baby, traffic was insane..." you tell Alcina as you breeze into her office suite, carrying chic bags full of expensive designer pieces that you didn’t really need. 

Since you were already shopping in the city, she had told you to have the driver drop you off at the office and she would drive you home herself.

You toss the bags to the hardwood floor and turn to close the door behind you; hardly anyone was in the building at this hour, but no one needed to see how you kissed your wife in private. 

"As you should be..."

The door clicks shut and your gaze cuts swiftly across the office, surprised by Alcina's blunt tone, but when you see the devious smirk on her face you feel it in your cunt.

Oh...oh. 

You suddenly realize what she's doing. It's rare that she indulges this particular kink of yours, but as she purposefully looks over your figure, you can tell she is in a giving mood—or more aptly, a taking one. 

She begins drumming her long, clawed nails on the surface of the desk and the rhythmic clicking makes you shiver. Her glare pins you for a moment, but you begin to cross the room anyway, unable to resist her magnetism. 

"Do you think you can just keep me—the CEO of the company—waiting like this?” Alcina asks, with a condescending tilt of her head. 

"I..." you start, but you're suddenly too nervous and charged to think straight. Alcina breaks for a moment and gives you a flash of her brilliant smile and it's all you need to spur you on. "I apologize, Mrs. Dimitrescu, but...I know I can make it up to you," you finish coquettishly, hinting your fingertips along the hem of your skirt. 

"Oh really?" She huffs incredulously and rolls her grey eyes. "And just what do you have in mind?"

You can feel yourself growing hot and the way your wife is appraisingly looking at your thighs only makes the furor grow. "I could...you know..." you trail off and let your gaze drift down to her belt buckle. While licking your lips, you give her your best doe eyes. 

She laughs and the sound is positively villainous, oozing with power. "You want to suck me off right here in my office?" she accuses. The crass question makes you blush, but you're aching between your legs, panties already soaking through. "My, my...I didn't realize you were such a whore."

"Only for you," you tell her, taking a few steps closer. 

"Good answer," she replies, and you know that's the possessive side of your wife speaking, not the character. 

Leaning back in her desk chair, she spreads her legs in a posturing fashion and makes herself even more comfortable by loosening the tie that's fitted neatly to her stiff white collar. Her suits drive you mad and she knows it. She then slips open the first few buttons of her shirt so you can see her breasts rising as she breathes. 

“Why don’t you come and sit on daddy’s lap then?” she says, patting her leg invitingly. 

You turn around and sit down between her spread legs, whimpering as she takes your waist in a firm hold and ruts up against your ass. Her fingertips dig into your hipbones none too gently and the way you push back makes her let out a lustful groan.

"If I had a cock I would be so hard for you right now," she whispers against your ear before kissing your neck. "Flouncing around in that fucking skirt, tempting me."

Her hands slide along your inner thighs, working the pleats of your skirt higher until she's able to pull your panties aside and circle a fingertip over your clit. You wail at the touch and she simply laughs again, still holding you close. When she hints that fingertip into your cunt and then pulls out just as quickly, a flashback of the morning comes to mind. 

"Are you planning to wear those boots today, darling? If so, you should wear them with that black skirt you have," Alcina calls casually from the closet, where she's putting on cufflinks. She's referring to the black suede boots that you had set out the night before; they reach to just above your knee and she always takes notice when you wear them. 

"What skirt?" you call back, emerging from the en suite with a mascara wand poised in your hand. 

"You know, the black one with the pleats...”

"Oh, I forgot I even had that skirt! Good idea, babe, that will look perfect!" you say cheerfully as you resume your morning routine, happy that your outfit for the day will look even better than planned. 

You and Alcina typically woke and got ready for the day together, drinking coffee or tea as you both fixed your hair and makeup. Owning a boutique winery had its difficulties, including long hours and routine business trips for Alcina, who acted as the CEO, but she kept you fed, fucked, and financed, so you really had no complaints about being a kept woman. You were free to enjoy the financial security of Alcina's position, being a stay-at-home mother to your daughters with the assistance of the au pair that she had hired after Cassandra was born. She worried (and knew) that two toddlers were too much for one person to handle with a spouse who was frequently away on business, and even though you had protested, Alcina would not hear your argument. She had scheduled you every spa treatment on the menu and handed you several of her credit cards, telling you to celebrate your newfound freedom. Excess was not only supported by her, it was encouraged. 

"I could never forget...every time you wear that outfit I want to bend you over," Alcina says, entering the bathroom to find you already bent over the counter, still applying mascara. Her voice is devilish but her touch is gentle as her hands find your hips over the silk bathrobe. 

You turn around to face her and she encircles you in her arms, a smirk on her red lips. The closed mascara tube rolls along the marble countertop, forgotten. 

"You're not so bad yourself," you whisper to her, and then take her tie into your hands. You would love to give it a good yank, but instead she bows for you to finish tightening it up to her collar, giving it the perfect dimple.

With Alcina in her heels, she's nearly seven feet tall when she already stands at 6'5". You stand on your toes to kiss her, but even then, her arm around your waist is the only thing that allows your lips to meet.

Just as your wife slips her tongue along your bottom lip and you taste cinnamon toothpaste, there's a raucous banging on the bedroom door. Alcina groans while knowing it's for the best; neither of you had time this morning for the kiss to go any further. 

“I’m coming,” you yell, intent on answering the door before its knocked off its hinges by a Dimitrescu daughter . 

As you turn to go, Alcina smacks your ass, chuckling darkly, “you will be…”

"Get on the floor," she suddenly commands and stands you up to face her. Your knees hit the cool hardwood, and while it's slightly uncomfortable, the subtle metallic sound of her belt buckle opening distracts you entirely from the pain. 

There's no teasing, no build up, just her hand tangled in your hair, urging your mouth to work for her. You’re sucking on her clit with the pressure and rhythm you know she likes and she’s moaning shamelessly, making you even wetter. 

You slide your hands up into the curve of her waist, giving yourself more leverage. Her breath hitches and she lets her head loll back against the chair, her eyes fluttering shut. 

“I’m going to come in your mouth and you’re going to take it like a good girl,” Alcina growls at you, needing to take back some semblance of control as it’s obvious that you’re unraveling her. With her hand cupping the back of your head, she grinds against your face until you can scarcely breathe. 

She continues to roll her hips and pull your hair, keeping you in place to be used solely for her pleasure. Despite your panties, your own thighs are slick with arousal and you hope that she will let you come once she’s finished; you don’t think you would be able to behave for one of Alcina’s infamous edgings even if you tried. 

Your clit throbs in time with the strokes you’re giving her, but you think it’s you whimpering against her cunt that finally makes her come with a ragged snarl. The control of it all, knowing that fucking her with your mouth turns you on that much, is what your wife really get offs on. And even though the hand twisting in your hair is painful at this point, you let her have it, want her to have it. You keep your mouth open obediently, your tongue out so she can finish using you. 

When she finally eases off, panting and spent, your face is glistening wet from nose to neck. She’s smiling down at you though, her role broken, and it’s all the confirmation you need to sit back on your legs and beam with adoration. In all your years together, there was still nothing quite like the feeling of submitting for her. 

“Good girl,” she whispers, her voice warm and tender as she looks down at you with heavy eyes. “So good for me…” She touches your cheek fondly and you nuzzle against her hand, bouncing and squirming your hips. 

“Am I forgiven?” you ask, feigning naivety, pouting with your eyes. 

“You’re forgiven, my love,” she laughs, continuing to rub her thumb along your jawline. She sighs contently and it makes your heart swell with pride. 

You know what you’re doing when you place your chin on her knee and look up at her through your lashes. “Do I get to come too?” 

She reaches down, taking your face tenderly into her hands and then bends to kiss your forehead. “Of course, darling, however you’d like,” she tells you, kissing your skin again, “just give me a moment…”

She settles back again and swings one of her legs over to cross them, but when she does she misjudges the distance and the sharp spike of her stiletto nicks just across your brow bone, splitting the skin almost painlessly. The pressure makes you cover your eye and the scene changes so quickly that all of your pent up arousal leads to immediate panic.  

“Jesus fuck!”  Alcina curses, moving to hold your face again but reluctant to touch you and cause more accidental harm. She’s trying to assess the damage but she looks absolutely guilt stricken when your eyes well up and you start to cry. “I’m so sorry, love! Fuck!”

Your fingers come away slippery with blood and Alcina watches as all the color drains from your face.

“Babe…babe, I’m bleeding,” you tell her needlessly, as if she can’t already see it tracking down your beautiful face. It’s more of a warning though, to let her know that you’re probably moments away from passing out. You’re staring at your red-stained palm, a clammy sweat breaking out over your body as your hearing goes hollow. 

Blood has always bothered you from a young age, but Alcina never seems to mind. She was the designated family caregiver, doctoring scraped knees and kitchen nicks with ease and a calm demeanor. She was anything but calm in this moment. 

The horrified expression doesn’t leave her face as she knocks over a forgotten glass of bourbon on her desk, taking the cocktail napkin beneath to hold over the cut. Then, she furiously fumbles to grab a legal folder to fan you with (hopefully) distractingly cool air. 

“Is it bad?” you ask, your own voice sounding a little slurry and far away.  

“No! No, no, no…it’s not bad at all,” she reassures, although the way she seems panicked herself is not all that reassuring. 

You’re checked out at this point and simply trust her to navigate you through the office to the elevators to the parking garage without your knees buckling. She coaches you to breath as she keeps a hand around your waist, using the other to hold the saturated napkin to your face as you walk. 

You figure she’s taking you to the ER, but by the time she gets you buckled into the cozy leather seat of her car, everything is a blur. Eventually you’re sitting on a gurney, shivering in the freezing hospital room with Alcina’s suit jacket draped over your shoulders. 

There’s blood on the sleeve of her once pristine white shirt and she’s authoritatively feeding the appropriate responses to the nurse regarding your personal information and medical history; through your haze you find her incredibly sexy. As you wait for the doctor, you think you hear her ask about a consultation with a plastic surgeon, but the nurse reassures that your injury will only require a few simple stitches. Alcina sounds affronted by that response and continues to go on about the possibility of a scar.

You almost feel like laughing but you don’t want the ER staff to think that you’re concussed as well. You also don’t want to have to explain that you’re laughing over the fact that you need stitches because you decided to go down on your wife in her office. You’re also a little pissed off—you still want your sexy CEO office orgasm, damnit. 

The three tiny stitches you require only take about the same number of minutes to be placed and you don’t feel much with the local block. Alcina winces as she watches, trying to force a tight smile each time your eyes meet. And then you’re home again, lying in bed, with Alcina giving you the first dose of the seven day course of antibiotics you were given because it was a shoe after all—even if it was an expensive shoe. 

“I feel terrible,” your wife says quietly, her voice sounding as cut up as her statement suggests. She’s rubbing your scalp and combing through your hair after you told her your head was aching from the stress of it all; you hadn’t meant to make her feel worse though.

With your head in her lap, you look up just in time to see a tear trickle down the side of her nose. It makes your heart ache, but not wanting to make the night any heavier—because, really, you’re perfectly fine now—you decide to take the route of humor instead. 

“You feel terrible? You got to come!” you blurt out jokingly, and the sound Alcina makes is somewhere between a laugh and choked sob. “But seriously, it was an accident and I’m alright.”

She swipes at her eyes and you can tell that she’s trying not to break, even if you did make her laugh. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry, my love,” she tells you and she sounds so sincere that it starts to make your throat tight in return. “I know we play roughly sometimes, but I would never mean to hurt you.”

You give her thigh a purposeful squeeze, whispering, “I suppose you will have to learn to play more gently with your toys then …”

The energy shifts at your comment, Alcina’s fingers pulling your hair a little more taut, guiding you to look up at her again. 

“Then when my little toy feels better, I’ll show her exactly how gentle I can be…”

You sleep in the next morning and it’s actually glorious to have some quiet moments to yourself. And it is deceptively quiet, so much so that you wonder if Alcina brought the girls out. But when you enter the kitchen, you find all four of them eating breakfast together around the island. 

Bela and Cassandra are thoroughly distracted by the cartoons playing from a propped up iPad, while Daniela is cooing away in her high chair. Alcina is feeding Daniela tiny bites of pancake with a silicone spork, the corners of her eyes creased with the smile she is giving the daughter that looks so much like her.

A little chorus of voices greets you and Alcina gives Daniela her spork so she can pull you into her embrace, kissing the crown of your sleep mussed hair as she does. "How are you feeling?" she asks softly, sounding quite serious.

"I'm good," you tell her honestly, slipping your arms around her neck to lean back and meet her eyes. She gives you a pointed look, one that means she wants the truth and it makes you smile. "I'm serious, it doesn't hurt at all."

Alcina seems convinced, but she still spends the rest of the morning coddling you—pouring your coffee, fixing you breakfast. It's nothing out of the ordinary, she just goes about the tasks with much more care than usual and finds a reason to gently touch your arm or back whenever she passes by you.

It's later when you are throwing out the remnants of the girls' soggy pancakes that you spot a suspicious pair of stilettos in the trash bin.

"Alcina, why are these in the trash?" you ask, having taken them out and holding them by your fingers slipped into the toes.

"They're tainted now," Alcina replies, continuing to wash dishes at the sink and stubbornly refusing to even look at what you're holding. She obviously already knows. "I'll never be able to look at them without thinking of maiming my wife."

"Alcina, these are limited Loubs! At least save them for one of the girls!?"

"Like I'm going to let our daughters wear fuck-me pumps, look where that got us!"

She gestures toward the stitches on your brow and now you do laugh because it's all ridiculous. "This is why we can't have nice things," you chuckle, and then take the shoes to set them on the stairs. Alcina may have more money than most small countries, but you'll be damned if you actually let her throw them out.

You've only made it a few strides from the kitchen when your wife catches you around the waist, making you squeal in surprise. She nuzzles into the back of your neck, hinting her teeth over your skin playfully.

"The things don't matter," she whispers near your ear, holding you tight, "you're the most priceless thing I have."