by Cynthia Dane
“A woman after my own heart.” Lana admired any woman with the balls to divorce her husband on their twentieth anniversary.
“I’m sure she is.” Ken rubbed her arm, his eyes darting between her demeanor and the soft skin beneath his touch. “Are you restless, Bunny? After this shit of a week we’ll have a night or two to spare. We could go to the club and take in some of the energy.” He watched his wife drink her wine. “Or we could go to the Château and see our kitten.”
Neither appealed to her. Not going to the club and putting on her fake smile to tell the world she and Ken were still powering through people like an army. Nor did she salivate at the thought of going higher into the mountains where they kept a mutual mistress in a discreet manor. She costs us a pretty penny. They were full-time patrons, although she took on other clients when they weren’t around. But in return for their copious amount of money, Lana could call the Château up at any time and say they were coming for their kitten’s pussy whenever she wanted. They could take her out for dates, like to the club where they paraded her around like their slave. Money bought a lot of things. Including women more than willing to play the role of mistress.
That thought was the only thing to make Lana smile all day.
“Perhaps the Château, if we can spare the trip. I suppose I’ve been itching to pinch that woman’s nipples. For you, of course.”
“That’s my girl.”
Lana gave her husband her fake smile. The real fake smile. Not the one he knew about, the one she used to beguile others when they had a front to create. This was the smile she used for him. The one he assumed was her real, natural smile. The bastard had no idea – it almost made her feel bad for him.
Chapter 2
“My Wife Should Do Many Things.”
Lana pampered herself after her shower that night. She spritzed on her favorite scent, rubbing lotion into her legs, her arms, the back of her neck as she let her strawberry blond hair dry on top of her head. Her favorite white silk robe draped over her limbs and breasts. She wore nothing beneath, preferring to let the fresh air of the master suite stimulate her skin. Sure enough, looking into her mirror revealed both of her nipples poking through the silk. Still as perky as the day I turned sixteen. Lana was not the most endowed, and that was on her side. Ken always raved about her nipples more than anything else, anyway.
Sensitive nipples. It didn’t take much, like the silk brushing against them.
Lana was alone. Her husband was in his office, finishing up preparations for the next day’s early morning meeting. Lana finished off her nightcap and then berated herself for drinking so much that day.
Eventually, she got up and went down the hall.
Ken was at his desk, back toward the office door. Lana quietly latched it behind her. Her husband only kept a meager fire beneath the stone mantle and the soft glow of his desk lamp. Glasses graced his head – Lana could see the black frames behind his ears all the way from where she stood.
She said nothing as she approached her hardworking husband. Lana let her hands announce her arrival, wrapping over both of his shoulders and giving a light massage.
“You need to come to bed if you’re getting up so early,” she said into the top of his head. From that angle, she could see the specks of steel gray emerging after working so hard for so many years. Ken was only nearing forty, but most of the men in his family grayed earlier than this. Lana looked forward to it – a little. There was something about a man with steel-gray hair making love to her with raw, experienced passion that turned her on. At least something is turning me on right now. She blamed hormones. It was better than facing the truth – that perhaps Ken wasn’t enough anymore.
Lana sighed as she rubbed her husband’s shoulders.
“I’ll be there soon. I need to finish this up and then unwind.”
“By the time you’re done unwinding, it’ll be midnight and you won’t get enough sleep.”
“Oh well.”
Lana pressed her thumbs into his shoulder blades. “Hurry up, then.”
“Keep touching me like that and I may be able to kill two birds with one stone.”
As he pulled folders toward him, perusing images of properties they were buying and selling, Lana continued to massage his shoulders and upper back. In any normal marriage this would be nothing more than a moment of one spouse taking care of the other. Except they weren’t normal. They weren’t vanilla. Everything they did in their intimate moments was laced in kink.
Lana could easily slip into dominant or submissive, demanding or serving at a moment’s whim. In public, she preferred the more domineering persona, including with her husband, but in private, she had no issues giving a well-deserving husband everything he needed to feel better after a long day at work.
It also helped that the longer she touched him, the more Lana awakened to her dormant sexual desires. We haven’t had sex in days. While not unusual sometimes, it did disconcert her after a while. In the early days of their relationship, they had sex every single day. Sometimes more than once. And “early days” meant as late as two and a half years. Unsurprisingly, it was marriage that eventually slowed them down. Marriage and going into business together. Suddenly they were in their thirties and more tired.
Lana still thought they had a healthy, voracious sex life. She craved his touch and he yearned for her. Other people came and went, but they were each other’s constant. Not just business partner, but life partner.
Or so she told herself for years. As of late, as many calls to her cousin and lawyer could attest, she second-guessed everything about her marriage. There was going through the motions, and then there was trying to improve things. She didn’t have the energy for either at the moment.
When Ken flipped the folders shut, she let out a sigh of relief. When he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the top drawer to deposit it for safe and confidential keeping, Lana ran her fingers through his thick head of hair and asked him why he didn’t put the folders in the second drawer, since this one looked stuffed full of business crap.
“I’ve got other things for safekeeping in there.”
“Oh? What?”
Ken slammed the drawer shut and locked it. “Nothing that would interest you.”
What?
Her husband leaned back in his chair, pulling his electronic cigarette from his front pocket. Lana moved away before she inhaled whatever scent he puffed on tonight. I suppose it’s better than cigars. Maybe that’s what he kept hidden in the second drawer. That’s going to drive me crazy now. She and Ken did not keep secrets. When people asked them how their relationship remained so seemingly strong, that was her answer. “No secrets. We tell each other everything. I know where all of his things are, and he knows mine.” Apparently it was bullshit.
Knowing there might be something between them made Lana do certain things. Like try to futilely get into her husband’s good graces, even if she was already in them. The mind didn’t always know that.
“My husband is so weary.” She leaned against his desk, loosening the sash of her robe and opening it enough to show him how naked she was beneath. “He should lie back in his chair to enjoy his cigarette.”
Her eyes bore into his. Determined, almost spiteful. Ken was the only man who would not flinch under such a gaze. He held it with his own, pushing back in his chair and taking the first drag of his relaxing smoke. Cherries. It would be cherries.
“And my wife should do many things.”
Lana pulled open the top of her robe, exposing her hardened nipples to the warm air of her husband’s office. It turned on the part of her brain that told her to serve him.
There were women who lived that life. Every day, their Doms and Masters came home, expecting to be waited on, to be served. The women got off on it. Everyone in the situation got off on it. Lana was not one of those women. When she chose to serve her husband – for he was the only person in the world she would serve – it was wit
h nothing but love. Foolhardy love, perhaps, but love nonetheless.
She thought she felt love inside her as she eased down onto her knees and ran the palm of her hand over his stiffening cock. His pants obscured it, but Lana knew which lines to look for. It also helped that her touch hardened him enough to make him groan on his cigarette.
“Tell me what you like,” Ken grumbled on his device. “Know your place, but tell me what you like.”
“Yes, sir.” Lana unzipped him, letting her fingers dance over the soft cotton of his briefs before finding the skin of his cock. She had felt and seen this thing a million times in her life, but now, more than usual, she had to make Ken think it was as good as the first time.
She also had to give herself completely over to the headspace of servitude. She wasn’t just Ken’s wife. She was his trophy. The hot, sharp woman he plucked from some promising company and made his. The first time they had sex, he slammed her into the bed and drove himself into her so hard that tears fell from her eyes. Not tears of pain or fear. Tears of relief that she had finally found a man who could satiate her hunger more than the usual.
To many, Ken was an average man by himself. He was handsome, but didn’t stand out in a room of other handsome men, especially since he fell on the shorter side and didn’t do much with his look. He was sharp, smart, and witty, but kept to himself unless otherwise provoked or if with very close friends. Even his cock was average. Lana certainly had much bigger in her days. The difference? Men with big cocks had a tendency to rely solely on that. They knew they could get away with women being amazed with only that. Men like Ken had skill. They knew how to use their cocks to bring a woman to such pleasure that she didn’t know where she was or what her name was. Lana would take that over a big cock for the sake of it any day.
Plus, she had a secret. Well, not so much a secret as biology.
She was small from every angle but her stature. Small as in those men with big dicks often struggled to get them in her, whether her pussy, her ass, or her mouth. Of course, Kenny loves watching that. They went through a phase three years ago where they rounded up every hot man with a dick over nine inches and gave them a go while Ken watched in great amusement. He said the faces I made as I struggled to take them were the hottest thing he had ever seen. She wished she could say she enjoyed it as much as he did.
So even though Ken Andrews didn’t boast the biggest dick around, it was big enough for her, and that was all that mattered.
I know every inch of it. She gazed at his flesh, at the hair curling around his base and creeping up the sides. His uncut head enticed her lips, but she held back, opting to push her thumbs into his folds and watch the precum emerge. She knew exactly what that would taste like, too. She had sucked her husband so many times that she could deep-throat him in her sleep.
“I like the way you smell,” she whispered, running both hands through his hair and along his shaft. “It’s so… animalistic.”
“Is it? I don’t smell nearly as good as you, though. I’m sure.”
Who knew if that was true? The way Ken acted when he shoved his face in her pussy sure made it seem like she was the headiest woman in the universe. All it took was one second, and Ken was devouring her, tasting whatever he could. For Lana, it was subtler. She liked to build up her arousal with her husband’s natural scent. Let it take control. Take over. Take her to a place where the only thing that mattered was their mutual pleasure.
“And I love how hard you get for me.” Ken was a man. He got hard for any hot woman – and occasional man – crossing his path. Lana fell into that category, didn’t she? Her husband was still attracted to her. He still desired her, even after their numerous rounds in bed and knowing her deepest, darkest parts of her heart. If that wasn’t love, then what was?
“Nobody gets me harder, Bunny.”
Ken pushed his chair back, the wheels creating a groove in the carpeted mat beneath him. So that’s how it is? He was going to take full advantage of her behavior right now. Lana knew she had no choice but to kneel between his legs and make him feel like the king of his castle.
They were a “split down the middle” kind of couple. Sex and gender aside, they strived for true equality. They took turns paying. They took turns driving – although Lana didn’t care much for driving and would rather take a driver or let her husband have the wheel. They paid equal shares of their stocks and properties. Even this mansion they called home for the past seven years was half and half.
And yet, Ken could become incredibly alpha when Lana even so much as suggested serving him.
He’s still a man at the end of the day. He wanted his wife on her knees and sucking him off. He wanted her spreading her legs for him. He wanted her begging for his virility. Every so often? Lana wanted to feel that too. Like she was a tool. A possession. A means to her husband’s orgasmic end.
She didn’t fully enter that space until she sucked on the tip of his cock, her hand stroking his hard, erect shaft as Ken continued to smoke above her.
“Fuck, Bunny.” Ken closed his eyes, let his head roll back against his chair, and took languid drags of his cigarette. That’s right. This is your moment, baby. Her hardworking husband deserved to have his wife giving him pleasure at the end of a hard day. What had Lana done? Get drunk on the floor of her office and imagine her husband tail-chasing their nubile maid. Hardly productive.
She had also called her lawyer – all right, her cousin – and demanded he help her get a divorce. Again. The Lana who currently served her alpha husband felt a crimson-colored shamed. How could she want to give up moments like these?
No, it wasn’t about giving them up. It was never about being tired or bored with Ken in the bedroom. That was impossible. The man was more adventurous than her. He’s the one who asked me to peg him all those years ago.
No, all the thoughts of divorce were about something else entirely.
“Eat my cock, baby,” Ken muttered on his cigarette. “I wanna feel it all the way down your throat.”
Lana braced her hands on his spread legs, running her tongue up and down his shaft as her throat wetted and the rest of her mouth salivated for him. People say I have such a big mouth. They said that figuratively. Lana Andrews was infamous in every social circle for speaking her mind and making friends and enemies in the aftermath. In reality, she had a tiny mouth. When she was a kid, she had to have extensive dental work done to make sure there was enough room for all the adult teeth she kept cramming in there. Doctors expressed concern that she would choke on her own tongue one day. While her mouth did grow as she got older, it was still relatively small.
So when her husband told her to swallow his cock, she had to be careful.
Like I’m not going to do it. How could she say no to a command like that? How could she turn away from the very thing offering to make her feel connected to her husband again? Not like I don’t know how to do this. Deep breath, relax the gag, and slowly slide Ken’s cock all the way down her throat.
He was a patient man. He knew how to lie back, have his smoke, and let his wife take care of the rest. She was there to serve him, after all. He needn’t do a thing.
Lana lowered her lips to his base, feeling his whole length fill her mouth, her throat. His head threatened her gag, but it almost never won. Not after this long together. Before she met her husband, Lana always had issues giving men head. They were too eager, choking her. Or they were way too big, hurting her jaw and again, choking her. Or, the pettiest thing of all, they complained about the placement of her teeth. As if she would bite them! On accident, anyway.
Ken was one of the first men she could enjoy this side of oral sex with. He didn’t fuck her throat without fair warning. And he fit! Bless this man’s perfect biology. Truly as if he were made for her enjoyment.
“Look at me, Lana.”
She glanced up, throat easing off him before taking his length again. Ken withheld a groan, but she felt him shudder. She also saw
his eyes glaze over as he smoked his cigarette and watched her devour him. Her fingers stroked his sack until her index finger and thumb attempted to circle around his base and squeeze.
“I’m glad to see you behaving so well tonight,” Ken continued, one hand lowering to pet the top of her head. Wet blond hair fell to the side of Lana’s face. “You’ve been behaving strangely lately. What’s all this talk about divorce? Don’t you love me anymore?”
She hummed on his cock, making her husband grip both handles on his chair. Of course she still loved him.
“That leads me to wonder if you’re tired of having sex with me. Don’t I let you know other men? If you’re feeling that much desire for someone else, all you have to do is talk to me about it. But I think you like my cock too much for it to be that.”
He took another drag of his cigarette. Lana pulled off him, letting her saliva create a bridge from her lips to his cock. Her fingers broke it and rubbed it into his skin. A man could never be too wet. “Don’t mind my strange whims, Kenneth,” she said. His real name came out when she was submitting to him. “They change with the phases of the moon.”
“Oh, I know.”
She wrapped her tongue around his tip and savored the delightful taste of his precum. Lana held his cock still as she took all of him into her throat again, her breaths large and unwavering in her chest.
“Do you like doing this, Wife? Do you like having my cock inside you?”
Another hum traveled down his shaft.
“Of course you do. Touch yourself until you’re wet enough for me.”
Lana made a show of keeping him halfway in her mouth as she flung back the skirt of her robe and rubbed the inside of her thighs. In truth, her pelvis swelled in heat, every inch of her thinking about her husband taking something other than her throat. Sure enough, when her fingers touched her pussy, she found it in the advanced stages of preparing for him.
She pulled apart her nether lips so she could feel herself dribble down her thighs.
