First, the NSFW ABC’s of Lady D absolutely ruined me. Secondly, it got me thinking.
What would you put if E was Edging instead of Experience and D was Denial instead of Dirty Talk?
OHHHHH.. Well, this is a fun little addition, anon 👀👀👀
Edging:
To say our illustrious Countess enjoys edging her pets would be a vast understatement. She loves it - thrives off of it. As she brings you to the brink of pleasure and back again - over and over until you're a flustered mess beneath her. Seeing your body trembling with need. Your eyes half lidded in lust. It's one of her most favorite things, after all. Her warm gaze skating over you as you squirm under her large frame, juices steadily building between your legs with each unfilled promise. Until there's not a single thought left in your blissed out mind. Nothing but pleasured fog and the knowledge of just how badly you need release. Of just ust how badly you want to come for her. And maybe.. just maybe.. if you behave, she'll finally give you what you desire most, with your body convulsing to the tune of her experienced fingers.
As for herself, our Lady is much, much too impatient to enjoying being edged. You may get away with it once, but try it again and she'll be fucking herself before you even get another chance. All while making you watch.
Denial:
Denial just happens to be one of Alcina's favorite punishments for her pets that may get a little too impatient or bratty. And if you happen to find yourself with a sharp tongue, you may also find yourself at wrong side of your Lady's tolerance. With your ankles and wrists bound expertly and your eager little body splayed out perfectly for her. Each light touch only making you more sensitive - needier. With a tug to your nipples and subtle scratches along your torso and inner thighs. Every caress she gifts you even more delicious than the last. Though, never touching you where you want it most. And when her mouth comes into play, your level of need will become almost unbearable. As her tongue and teeth mark and suck over every inch you - biting and claiming. A smug smirk across crimson lips as you pull against your restraints - looking up at her with heated cheeks and a single plea in your eyes. But you know what she wants, you know what she desires. As her fingers graze over the most sensitive parts of your body until you're begging like your life depends on it. Until your pleas turn to silent screams and her fingers mercifully side into you. "Don't let it happen again, draga."
Denial is not something you want to try with Lady Dimitrescu, pet. Not if you plan to see the light of another day, that is. As if you could ever deny yourself the extreme pleasure of hearing the effect you have on her anyways. A fact that she knows, and knows all too well.
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alcina. (belonging)
fem. reader
you are an angel amongst mountains of silk.
the soft of your hair rests loosely, untied or tucked, flyaways aplenty from the static of her sofa pillows surrounding your tiny, wonderful body. the nightgown you wear, deep, dark as freshly pressed wine, sits low upon your shoulders, exposing delicate, supple skin waiting, wishing to be devoured. she almost hoped you meant it a distraction, mischief hidden beneath innocence. but you watch her dress for her family meeting with earnest, curious eyes, no such gleam of trouble anywhere to be found.
alcina adored you.
“pet, don’t you have some resting to do?” she says, a trace of tease in her strong voice. she stands before her dressing mirror, catching your eyes in the reflection. her hands smooth the sides of her dress, white as snow, her tint of skin, taking pleasure in how eagerly your gaze follows. “i won’t be long, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
your chin lays tilted on the settee’s armrest, a sideways view still plenty pleasing. she feels your eyes linger on her undone face, her natural self on display. alcina pretends not to notice.
“may i help you with your makeup?” you ask.
she turns to you, shocked. her expression must betray otherwise, or be more severe than she’d realized, for you shrink back and avert your eyes away. “oh, i’m sorry, i’ve misspoken—”
alcina is quick to wave you off, tutting her apology. “my dear, you surprised me, is all. i thought you liked watching me apply.”
“i do! it’s-it’s just…” you say, blinking up at her like a cherub from a renaissance capture, sweet and rosy. “at the very least, i’d like to choose a lipstick for you, if it’s quite alright.”
there’s a familiar pull of skin, crinkles and laughlines accompanying her ardent smile. “come now, it’s more than alright.”
her powder smells of rosewater and talc. it falls like stardust upon you, landing on dolce lips and fluttering lashes.
it is commonplace for alcina to situate you on her lap as she goes about her makeup routine, a process long enough to warrant your presence being. the time is spent watching her work, holding brushes or palates for her to choose between, and the occasional touch of lips exchanged.
you know to be patient, and keep still.
with a final run of a brush over her eyelids, she seals the look of her part, taking a moment to examine herself in her vanity’s reflection. she tries not to chuckle at the way you squirm with excitement, now knowing the finishing touch was all yours to claim. she calms you with a hand brushing over your waist. with the other, she reveals to you her drawer packed full with lip colors of every kind, from the peachiest pink to the deepest violet.
“the honors, girl.”
you trace indecisive lines over bullets of every size and shape. you worry for time, shown through quivering hands, but alcina’s touch splayed across your back is patient, watchful. she’s enjoying this, your eager, careful wish of adorning her. time taken is for her sake.
you uncap a bullet to find a bright, fiery shade of scarlet.
“this one.” you decide, holding it up for her to see. “if it’s all the same to you, mistress.”
she nods an approval, then eyes you with a calm, amused smile. “you know i trust you’ll see me off best, dear.”
you swivel around in her lap, until your legs hang over her thighs, your little arms steadying yourself with the help of her wide, powerful shoulders. alcina does not miss how longingly you gaze at her décolletage, how the static white of her skin differs from yours. her large hands settle themselves upon your thighs, your nightgown exposing the soft, sensitive flesh with the lift of your movements.
she smells the heat of blood pulsing between your ribs.
“may i?” you ask, in a breathless sort of voice.
“please do, lest i arrive fashionably late.”
the gentle way you cup her face almost makes her laugh. you, with hands the size of rosebuds, your very being no larger than one of beneviento’s dolls. with concentration lacing your brow you focus on dotting her lips alight, creamy color bright against her skin. it resembles greatly the bite of blood, or the homemade wine she tastes of. it takes all you have not to lean in for one.
“you’re lovely.” you say, meek as a lamb. you click the bullet in place with a snap, holding it up for alcina to take. she does, but clasps her hand around your arm for a good while.
“such a sweetheart.” she purrs, eyes crinkling with her signature dazzle. “i won’t be long, you hear? but i still want you in bed by the time i get back. rest, rest, rest.” with the same hand alcina lowers you to the ground, paying another look at her reflection before standing upright. she watches you, raising a brow, until you scurry off and up her bed, showing your usual obedience. she has no reason to worry.
“be safe, mistress.” you whisper beneath velvet and lace.
alcina beams with a grin of pleasure. “always.”
her bedroom doors slam close behind the exit of her gargantuan being.
with a loud click, they are locked shut.
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Becca the way I ran over here is insane I have to share this with you. Dbf ceo Bucky tying his tie around your throat pulling it back as he rails into from behind on his desk while he calls you his favorite cock warmer.
Wtf that’s so hot 🙃 like a really frantic, filthy, desperate quickie over his desk because you just couldn’t help yourselves and he needs a little relief
Maybe he’s had a long day and it's really taken it out of him. Some days just don't go smoothly for him and you know to expect that but the second you see his face, you know it's been a rough one.
He looks tired. His frown lines seem a little deeper set than usual and his jaw is clenched but apart from that, it'd be hard to tell he's had a long day because he hides it well.
"Everything okay?" You keep your voice soft, encouraging him to relax and you notice his shoulders drop ever so slightly.
"Bad day." He confirms but it's impossible to miss how he seems to focus on the hem of your dress. Your dress stops just above your knees, leaving your legs exposed for him to appreciate and he doesn't say much more before doing exactly that.
As soon as you're settled on his desk, his hands are drifting up that bare skin, starting at your ankles, roaming confidently up the back of your bare legs. You know he needs this. He needs an outlet for all that frustration and a warmth settles in your stomach because even when he wants to be rough with you, he's still awfully considerate.
He kisses the insides of your knees, trailing the tip of his tongue gently up the inside of one of your thighs until he's able to place a chaste kiss to your clothed sex. He gasps softly, marvelling at how slick the thin lace is under his lips, knowing he's hardly even touched you and you're already desperate for him.
"Bend over the desk." He orders and while you follow his instructions, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers before freeing his cock. "You're so fuckin' wet." He grunts, rubbing his stiffening length against the drenched fabric of your panties, giving himself a moment to admire your ass.
"You." He begins, loosening his tie before tugging it off, keeping the knot intact. "Are just a hole for me to fuck for the next hour. You got that?"
"Y-yes." You whimper, pressing yourself back on his cock, shame burning in your cheeks when he laughs at how pathetic you are.
"You're a fucking cocksleeve." Oh God, he needs this. Everything in him is screaming at him to bury his dick inside you and he can't ignore his need any longer. "I don't care if you get off on this. I don't give a shit if you cum." You know that's not true but believing this is just a rough, frantic fuck for his pleasure makes it even hotter somehow.
"Use me." You whine, gripping the edge of the desk. He pulls your soaked panties to the side, slipping the loop of the tie over your head, keeping a nice tension in the length of it as he slides slowly into you.
"Christ, you're tight." He grunts, tugging on the tie so the pressure on your neck makes you yelp. The first glide of his length into your body is always pure bliss for you but it's that little bit better when you pretend that he doesn't care.
"Stupid. Little. Cockslut." He offers sharp, shallow thrusts with each word and there's no stopping the way your eyes roll back. His tip nudges the soft, velvety spot inside you with each thrust and you know if he keeps that up, you're going to cum, whether he cares or not.
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