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butmakeitgayblog · 8 months

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may i— [starts vibrating in a very calm and collected way] may i ask how that spanking in cruel intentions go?

'Green?'

You stare at the message with a cheshire grin that you haven't been able to wipe off since 37th and Park.

The ride home left you just a little bit giddy because, good fucking god, you love this woman. Even more so when she's trying to play rough because she's kind of terrible at being demanding. With you, anyway. Even when she's out for blood she always lets you keep one hand securely on the reins, and something about that knowledge, that power she gives you, feels so fucking hot.

And truth be told you'd kinda known you were in trouble since the moment you'd woken up.

If you're being entirely honest with yourself, there were signs since this morning when she'd kissed you goodbye. Just sweet enough to completely and utterly fuck your makeup.

If you're being even more honest with yourself, which you personally loath to be, the idea that she was pissed off at you for your loss of control the night before enough to seek vengeance kind of got you off...

But yeah, the signs had been there. Her curt dismal of your offer to fuck her before work as she'd rolled out of bed to shower alone. The one word answers when you'd asked what she wanted to do for dinner. The resounding silence when you'd asked her how her meetings were going, and the follow up inquiring if she needed anything. She hadn't answered a single one. But she'd made sure you'd seen that she'd read them, and that sick little piece of you had hoped it'd all meant something.

Which is exactly why you practically squeak in delight as you type out your answer.

'Emerald'

'Chartreuse.'

'Hunter, Absinthe, Viridian, my love. And all the shades that make up your gorgeous, breathtaking eyes'

You practically cackle at the middle finger emoji she immediately sends back.

And send a quick pic of your tits cupped in a new bit of lace as a meager peace offering.

Her reply takes several moments, and you're about to ask if she'd started the fun without you, when the three dots mercifully pop up again.

'Keep that on.'

'Everything else can go.'

You've almost tossed your phone aside when her final text comes through.

'And, Darling? I suggest you don't test me on this one.'

Fuck, you really do love her.

It feels like an eternity before you hear the distinct click of her heels on the heated hardwood floor of your apartment. It's enough to kick your heartrate up a few million notches as you scoot down further into the mountain of pillows on your bed. You drape an arm above the fan of your hair and the other low on your belly, legs crossed oh-so-demurely at the ankles because you're a classy goddamn lady after all.

The double doors to your bedroom pop open with her usual grandiose flair and her face is all shades of a hot bitch on a mission.

She stops short at the sight of you. Eyes tracing the stretched out length of you. Mapping the landscape from your tits still cupped in your pretty new bra, to the starkly naked expanse of you the rest of the way down.

The way her gaze darkens makes your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to quell the sudden ache.

"Well. Don't you look comfy."

"Hey, baby." You twirl a lock of blonde hair innocently between your fingers and wriggle your toes against the sheets because you're just so happy to see her. "Have a nice day at work?"

Her eyes snap back up to your face.

You love it when she actively has to remind herself that she's supposed to be mad at you.

She doesn't answer, and that's okay. You weren't expecting one to begin with. Instead she walks over to the edge of the bed and waits, looming over you like a statue. And of course you play your part of the dutiful, doting wife. Slinking up onto your knees, fingers trailing along the lapels of her suit jacket until you have enough leverage to slip it free. You mindlessly toss it in a heap on the floor without ever breaking her gaze, smoothing your hands over her chest, up her neck, gathering her hair to lay over one shoulder.

"These look amazing on you," you whisper with a light snap of one of her suspenders, biting your lip around the pleased little smile that you really can't seem to help. "You know what they do to me."

That infuriating flick of her brow owns your ass by this point in your marriage. And what's worse, the little shit absolutely knows it.

She holds your eyes and thumbs off the suspenders one at a time to hang loose at her hips, deftly undoing the buttons of her shirt to pull the material free, and all you can do is watch. You quite literally have to swallow with the way your mouth sudden fills with saliva at the sight of her standing there like that. All wild curls and perfect little tits wrapped in black scraps of lace. Face far too hard, too commanding, too lethal (in your not at all humble opinion) for a woman with such pouty, fuckable lips.

Your eyes drop to those fingers that start undoing the belted buckle to her suit pants. She unzips them, lets them fall slack, only the generous curve of her hips and thighs managing to hold them up. And you can just make out... can just manage to see—

"Fuck, Lex." You lick your lips at the hint of perfectly manicured curls that peek out from beneath. "Seriously?"

Only your wife would dare to go pantieless in a three thousand dollar suit.

She hums and reaches out to card her fingers through your hair. "Unfortunately, someone made sure I was too sensitive to wear my usual set."

The accusing lilt of her words makes you smile.

Because... Guilty as charged.

You'd known as you'd sunk your teeth into the plumpness of her ass the night before that anything too tight against the skin would be out. You'd seen the suit she'd picked for the next day and lost her head with her despite it. Had let go and marked her up so pretty it'd been a wonder she could sit in her office chair at all. You sway a bit just remembering her moans. All her hisses and quiet yelps. The way she'd jumped at a few particularly punishing scrapes of your teeth before grinding her clit harder against the mattress. You'd left her ass so bruised and beautiful it truly was like an art piece.

It wasn't your fault she gets off on wearing skin-tight garters and lingerie under all of her fancy business suits.

Her hands slip down and cup the back of your neck as she steps in and roughly kisses the smirk off your face. All teeth and tongue and bites to your lips that taste just a but like a reprimand, but really they just leave you gasping in moans into her mouth. You hold her wrists as she kisses you like she's been thinking about it all, like she's pouring every bit of her anger and devotion into with filthly swipes of her tongue.

It's only when pulls back with a wet pop that you can manage to suck in a few desperate breathes.

"I love you." She whispers it against your lips so gently you feel it more than hear it. And you kind of adore that she can't help breaking character just to be soft for you.

You also know this is her way of giving you one final chance of backing out.

But after waiting for this for the better part of the afternoon? Seriously. Fuck that.

So you whisper your own words of devotion and flick your tongue at the little divot that splits her supple bottom lip, feeling the way her hands fist tighter in your hair in acceptance of your answer.

She kisses you again, something softer, entirely sweeter.

The way she leans up to peck your beauty mark before pulling away feels sinister.

And you know you're right when her hands start to drag you downward, guiding to lay on the bed, her touch firm and unyielding in how they tug at your scalp until you're scrambling to lay propped on your elbows. You're a half second away from asking what the hell it is that she's doing, when she removes one hand just to shove her pants down her legs a bit further.

Fuck.

You can smell her you're so close. Can scent the tangy richness of her arousal that clings to the swollen lips of her slit. It makes your head spin to know she's getting off on this as much as you are. You glance up to see her watching you. To see that severe line of her jaw hanging open as the fingers still threaded on your hair fist tighter.

You already knew what she going to do, but that certainly doesn't stop you from letting loose an obscene moan when guides your face right where she wants you. It's a bitch to hold eye contact in this position as she tilts her hips forward, watching you with eyes half-lidded with lust. You open for her obediently, letting her press her cunt to your lips. Lick forward and let her use you for her own selfish pleasure. Work to kiss and suck away the strings of wetness that coat the hood of her clit, as she gasps and rubs shamelessly against the lapping of your tongue.

The fingers in your hair clench with every roll of her hips as you lick into her and feel the way she drips down your chin. Her lips twitch with a smile as she watches you. Something predatory and dark as she fucks herself messily on your mouth. You do your best to match her rhythm, moving with every rock of her hips and feeling her clit pulse against the flick of your tongue. You let your moans rock through her and revel in the way her eyes flutter and roll, sucking harder as she pets your cheek with only her fingertips.

She lets her head tip back when you wrap your lips around her and suck. "That's my girl. Just like that."

You didn't think you were the one in this relationship with a praise kink, but after this... you kinda don't know...

Her breaths turn heavy and her stare is primal as she ruts and builds against your tongue. The thick swip of her eyeliner only adds to the feeling that you're being used by this woman gone feral. Because you love it when she just takes from you. Uses you however she wants.

When she reminds you exactly who owns you.

Because these are the glimpses of the Lexa that existed before you two were you two. The pieces of herself you'd spent years only getting to hear in obscene moans that bled through your bedroom walls. This is the Lexa that always fucked rough and left her conquests a needy, sweat soaked mess. This is the Lexa who takes what she wants, and doesn't give one single fuck, and you really don't get a chance to see this version of your wife nearly often enough.

And just when you feel her thighs start to quiver with how hard you're gonna make her come...

She yanks her hips away from your touch.

What... in the actual... fuck—

"Aw," she breathes in a valiant attempt at composure. The shake in her voice gives her away. "Did you honestly think it was going to be that easy?"

She leans down until she's eye-level with the world class scowl you're sending her way, and gives your hair gentle, reprimanding tug.

"After the shit you pulled last night? Making me come is the least of your worries."

She drops a peck your nose and releases you with a toothy twist of her grin, and she doesn't even spare you the courtesy of watching you petulantly swipe away the blot her chapstick. In fact, she doesn't pay any attention to you at all as she goes about giving herself a look in the mirror beside your table, only pausing long enough to run fingers through her hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it.

It's a beautifully hopeless vain dream of hers that you hope she never, ever achieves. The wild mess of her hair is at least... one eighth? of the reason you love her.

You sigh and rest your chin in your palm.

Math never was your subject.

The click of her heels sound like gunshots as she wanders over to her side of the bed on trembling legs and casually pulls the third drawer open from the top. She ingores as you shift to follow her. Crawling on hands and knees like her lovesick puppy, and it doesn't escape your attention that her slick still sits heavy on your lips and chin.

You gladly breathe her scent in with every quickened breath.

You wait patiently and watch her rifle through the contents of her goodie drawer. Stopping to pick up that little riding crop that makes your heartbeat pick up, and roll it between those ungodly, beautiful fingers... only to gingerly set it aside with a dismissive hum.

The whine claws its way out of your throat before you can even realize you've fucked up.

Her head snaps to you at the sound, face hard and eyes wide. Blown pupils shining with a delicious threat of murder.

"Fucking excuse you?" she whispers, her voice the crack of a whip now.

It's all instinct that makes you make go soft. Supple. Submissive, in how you relax into the sheets and bare yourself to her completely. You stretch out flat on your belly and flick your hair back from your face, so innocent looking it has to be hilarious, and you almost purr at the way her eyes turn glassy as she looks at you.

Like you're once again her good girl. To have and to hold. Like you're her own little slice of everything sugar and spice, contained in one oh-so-pliant body.

"Nothing, baby." You wiggle your ass just for good measure. "Just ready for you to touch me."

And oh, losing that battle will most certainly be worth winning the war if her face is anything to go by. Because she melts soft around the edges. Lips curling into an angelic smile. Serene and eternally gentle, the sweet living picture of the kind of girl most would dream about taking home to their mother.

She breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief that would probably sound harmless to an amateur ear.

But you? You know your wife far better than that by now.

"That's exactly what I was hoping to hear."

She goes right back to her rummaging, shifting aside this and that, before letting out a triumph, "Ah, here we are," and producing a shiny new bottle of.... baby oil?

You really can't help the way you frown as she wiggles it in the air like it's some kind of special prize. When you'd spent the day picturing all of the potential twists in her plans for retribution, the one thing you certainly hadn't envisioned was...

Well.

That.

"You look disappointed. That hurts my feelings." She pops her bottom lip out in a frown despite looking entirely too pleased with herself for your comfort.

You're just about to reassure her with a lie that 'no! Of course you're not!', when she gracefully pushes down the pants that still cling to her thighs until they pool at her feet and allow her to step out.

Her fingers snap and then she shoos you to move with nothing more than a lazy flick of wrist. It's almost embarrassing how quickly you roll out of her way as she climbs onto the bed. She looks so prim and proper with her legs tucked neatly beneath herself, as though readying herself for prayer, with her heeled feet just hanging off of the bed as she settles on bended knees.

"Oh that's cute," she laughs when you immediately try to straddle her lap, stopping you dead in your tracks with a palm against your chest. All traces of niceness fall away from her face as you pout and consider giving in to your inner brat. "What did I say about testing me?"

Her words fall like a slap. Flat and demanding. Because in the distracting onslaught of that face and that hair and, god, that fucking body mixed with the sweet tangy taste of her slick still fresh on your tongue, you had, indeed, forgot.

You'd forgotten this was her vengeance.

Both her reward and her reprisal.

You'd forgotten this was her goddamn payback for letting you having quite so much fun.

Fuck.

Better women than you probably wouldn't feel quite so turned on from watching her take a second to get everything ready. The way she fluffs a pillow and places it beside her as a 'thoughtful' place for you to rest your head, makes you hate how your wife can manage to turn beating your ass into such a production.

(That's a lie. You fucking love it.)

You take the hand she offers to keep you steady when she motions her hand across her lap as though to say, "Well, go on then." Send her one final pout when she chastely kisses you, and you have to bite your lip to quell the groan that aches in your throat as you drape yourself across her legs.

It feels like Christmas and your birthday all rolled into one.

"See. That wasn't so hard, darling," she coos, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. Her fingers slip over the swell of your ass and gently kneed the skin there. "I don't know why you have to make things so difficult."

You snort and shoot her a look over your shoulder. "Oh like you're one to fucking talk."

She clicks her tongue in disapproval. "Attitude. If you can't shut that pretty little mouth of yours, I'll have to fill it with something else."

The pulse of arousal that rocks through you is enough to have you clenching around nothing. You know she feels the shiver that zips down your spine and the way your thighs squeeze to relieve the ache.

Not that you'd ever admit to any of it.

"Is that a threat?"

"More like a promise."

"Now who's the savage?"

Her smile's razor sharp when she blows you a kiss. "We are what we are."

You mourn the loss of her fingers rubbing circles over the lower dip of your back, but all your arguments die on your lips at the click of the bottle being opened. She doesn't waste any time shoving your head back forward, not letting you watch - only feel - when she tips the cool liquid over your skin. You jump at the chill of it which makes her laugh because she's a bitch, but a merciful one at least, thankfully. Because the next second her hands are back on you, warming the oil up as she spreads it across your skin. Massaging it over your ass, over and between the tops of your thighs, curling her palms around your hips to cover every inch. Her nails scrape gently across your back and ribs, leaving warm patterns of red in their wake, looping infinities that you'll hopefully be admiring tomorrow.

Your muscles relax until you're liquid. Until you're so loose and hazy under her touch that you think this wouldn't be an entirely bad way to nap.

She leans over your shoulder. Face nothing but angelic softness that radiates an distinct eerie calm.

Her eyes flit back and forth between yours as she watches you laze on her borrowed pillow, aand the way she looks at you with so much unfiltered love makes your heart pound.

"Take a deep breathe for me, darling."

Oh.

You guess she's ready to start now.

Your do as you're told and let your eyes fall closed, taking in a slow, deep pull of her perfume. The blow of her hand against the slick of your ass cheek makes you jump, makes you yelp as you strain against the fingers that suddenly wrap tight around your throat.

You know she's watching you closely in the quiet that follows. Know she's gauging every twist and twitch of your face. The second smack smarts more than the first, which somehow surpises you, and it pulls a filthy moan from deep in your chest.

This isn't your first time letting her spank you as "punishment" and with the luck of the devil, it certainly won't be your last. But, fuck, the oil adds an extra sting to every blow of her hand that you hadn't expected; it has writhing in her grasp within seconds. She aims her hits all over your ass. Never lets you know where the next one will be as she hums her little sounds of approval.

Lifting up just enough to turn your head to look back, you nearly come at the sight of her watching you. Seeing how her eyes sparkle, hooded and dark as they rove the length of you, fluttering as she lands another slap that makes your ass ripple.

The fingers around your throat squeeze in perfectly timed intervals with every spank. Stealing your breathe away when you rock forward on the particularly ruthless slaps. It's more possessive than anything, not even coming close to actually keeping you from breathing, but fuck all does it still manage to make your head spin whenever you feel her grip tighten. She bites her lips to swallow her moans. Chokes them down so she can hear your sounds better as she spanks more searing heat all over your ass and trembling thighs.

Your chest grows tight each time she takes a break. Each time she slows down just to let the ache linger. Letting her palm and fingers trace the battered skin that feels deliciously on fire. You squirm at the tickle and the burn of her touch, fighting the urge to rut shamelessly against the thighs under your waist, but she pins your hips firmly in place with queitly commanded, "Behave."

There's just something about the way Lexa always takes her time with you. The way she knows exactly what to do to make you shudder and break. It's in how she massages the reddened cheeks of your ass one at a time, as though this is how she always intends to worship you.

Another spank is hard enough that you feel it thrum all the way to your clit. It feels so good it has you biting her pillow to stifle your yell, but that just earns you another one. She wants to hear your every moan. Every yelp. Every needy sob of ecstasy. And god help you. You're weak for her. You've never been good at denying her anything.

Your entire body shivers when her touch trails down the cleft of your ass and slips through the mess between your thighs. "You're so wet," she breathes in a light, throaty rush as her fingers slide along the length of your slit. "I think you might be enjoying this a little too much."

Her fingers bump the base of your clit and you nearly buck right out of her grip. "Oh fuck, yes, baby."

You can practically feel her smile at that. "Who knew my wife was such a little slut."

Hearing such filth from Lexa's lips will never fail to make you needy, you're sure of it, because there's just something so goddamn addicting about it coming from such a normally prim and proper mouth. She's eloquent in her everyday life, often stoic to a fault, but when she's fucking you like this you love that all bets are off.

It makes your eyes roll back in your head because fuck yes you are her desperate little slut, and you really, really need her to remind you of that sometimes.

She rips another moan from your chest when her fingers pull back and slap the length of your slit. "I can feel you getting even wetter," she laughs and roughly massages away the sting. "So fucking predictable."

You're sure your face burns as red as your ass at the way you rut your hips back into the touch. "Fuck off, Lexa."

All the little smartass does is laugh at you and spreads you open just to watch you drip.

Sweat pools at the base of your back when you rise onto your elbows, feeling the hand at your neck slip down to shove aside your bra and cup your breast. She pinches your nipples until they're hard enough to ache, stopping only long enough to lick the pads of her fingers before tugging them in alternating strokes while you whimper.

The hand between your legs never stops moving. Only teases you until you feel like you might pop. Coaxing out more dribbles of your slick and dragging it down to brush feather-light circles around the very tip of your clit.

You give yourself over to her entirely, give her exactly what she wants, letting your moans flow out of you in obscene trails and hisses. You know she loves it when you're loud, always says she could come just from listening to you getting fucked, and right now you'll do anything to convince her that you deserve to get off.

You jog your hips on her next sweep up and nearly cry out when she takes pity on you, feeling the tips of those gorgeous fingers stroke against the tight ring of your entrance with purpose, like she understand exactly what you need. You spread your legs further in supplication. Press your tits further into her hand. Wiggle your ass and send her a smile to let her know you're ready to take whatever she's got planned for you next.

What you don't expect to feel is another spank cracked right across the flat of your ass, the blinding spark of pain catching you by surpise before she sinks two fingers deep inside you without a single word of warning.

The shock of being so full sends you toppling face first into the pillow, heat zapping along the skin of your ass cheeks as she fucks you from behind. You fist the sheets and clench around her fingers, helplessly suckling her thrusts in deepest, and you give up any hope of every breathing normal again. You moan so fucking loud each time her fingers bottom out you're sure the damn doorman can hear it.

Her fingers scissor and twist just to make you feel the stretch. Each time you start to feel the embers of your climax ignite she changes the rhythm, alternating between slow, smooth strokes and fucking you so roughly your legs shake. The oil and slick dripping out around her fingers makes the most delicious sounds each time she thrusts.

And you love knowing just how much this is getting her off. Love hearing all her coos of "Good girl" and how you're taking your punishment so well. Love hearing the wet slaps of her palm against your clit and feeling the vibrations carry you higher.

Because her spanks lack the fire from before, more sound and squeezing than anything at this point, as she works to wring out just as much pleasure from you as she did pain. Her moans meld with yours each time she sinks back in and feels your walls grip at her fingers to keep her seated inside. Mercifully she seems to hear you. Seems to understand how desperately you need this game to be over. Seems to twitch with the exact same need to come as you do.

'Fuckin' bottom...'

The thought comes and goes when you feel her teeth sink into the swell of your ass, her fingers curling over and over against that sweet little spot inside of you. Her thumb rubbing slippery circles over your clit and she tugs your nipple just right.

She has you coming around her fingers in seconds.

The pulses of your climax slams through you in pleasured waves as she strokes your inner walls all the way through it. Even the tight clamp of your thighs around her wrist doesn't stop her, doesn't change the way she curls her fingers and presses tight against your clit. Your walls ripple around her strokes. Spilling enough to feel it drip down your thighs. You come hard enough for it to almost be painful, but in the most delicious of ways, and you kind of think you may have blacked out for a minute.

The next thing you know you're laid flat on the bed, or at least that's what you think. You're fairly sure the lump of her legs is no longer half-holding you up on all fours. But you can't really feel any piece of your own body, save for the burning across your ass and thighs.

So, who the hell knows.

You drift in the haze of post-orgasm bliss. Boneless. Careless. Just a puddle of come and white noise. It takes several minutes for you to come back to your senses. Or maybe it's a year.

Again. Who the hell knows.

All you do know is that the next thing you feel is the tickle of her fingernails gently scraping patterns across the length of your shoulders. It's a feat to pry one eye open - the one not buried in the downy fluff of her pillow - just to see a galaxy of green staring back.

The sight makes your lips tug up into a lazy smile. Because now she's just your Lexa again.

"You gonna survive?"

You grunt and manage to flop onto your side. "Jury's still out."

That you earns you a pride sweetened kiss.

She hears your hiss at the feel of the bedsheets rubbing against your ass like they're made of sandpaper, but it only makes the little shit smile wider. Your pout does the trick, and then she's scooting as close as she can get, pressing a kiss to your forehead to soothe you. This whole marriage thing really is too easy.

"You need anything?" she asks in the queit aftermath, arm drapped over your waist, fingers still looping neverending circuits along your spine.

You're not one who ever needs much aftercare, always feeling content in the safety of your wife's arms, so you shake your head against the pillow to let her know, "Maybe later. Right now I'm okay."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. I'm sure." You hum and nudge your leg between hers, because right now all you want is to feel closer. And when a thought suddenly occurs to you, you can't hell but chuckle and let your eyes blow wide. "You really went for it with the whole 'slut' thing this time."

Her teeth bite down on the plumpness of her bottom lip, and you don't think she could look any cuter than she does in this moment. She wiggles herself tighter against your chest. "I know."

"You're such a fiend."

"Aw, poor darling. Did it hurt your delicate feelings?"

"Yes," you say, and fail to hold back the ridiculous wattage of your smile. Because the truth is if you could rewind time and record it as your ringtone, you absolutely would. "Terribly. You should kiss it and make it all better."

She raises herself up to lean on an elbow and looks so lovingly down at. "Oh, Clarke... I'm not even close to finished with you yet."

Your hips cant at the silent promise for more punishment despite feeling so thoroughly spent. It thrills you every bit as much as it fills you with dread because you know she'll make good on it. The bruises that already litter your backside prove it. Your ass is on fire and your bones feel like they're made of gelatinous goo, and you know that look on her face means you're not going to be sitting right anytime soon.

She kisses your cheek, your chin, licks her way up your jaw, niddles filthy little promises to the lobe of your ear. Her hand nudges for you to roll onto your belly because she doesn't seem to understand that you're nothing but a puddle of come, oil, and goo. "Lexa."

"I think it's only fair, love," she hums, already painting strips of arousal along the curve of your hip. "What with all you put me through today, darling, you can't say I don't owe you. Unless... Unless you're saying you're tapping out? Because I could always just go and take care of myself—"

You laugh comes out more as a snort as you stop her from rolling away, just like she knew that you'd do. A sigh is all you have to brace yourself for the pain that you know is sure to follow, and hope she's still worked up enough to come with only a few punishing ruts.

Her smile can only be described as wolfish and predatory as you gasp out a breath when she pats your backside approvingly. The sting makes you bow into the bed and shoot her look of death.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a sadistic bitch?"

She shrugs and leans in to kiss the scowl from your lips, and straddles your ass because, after all, she owns you. "Once or twice. But you love me anyway."

God help you. You do.

#sassymajesty #cruel intentions au #idek #happy sinday #hope it's ok I've lost all ability to judge this thing 🥴#cruel intentions snippet

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