Work Text:
Ding!
The clear, cheerful chime of the phone echoed through the room, previously soundless except for the rustle of papers and the drone of a voice plowing steadily through quarterly reports. Everyone’s heads whirled around to stare at the person seated at the head of the table, who was struggling not to cringe.
“My apologies,” said Lexa Woods in a calm, collected voice, the opposite of how she actually felt. “Please go on, Indra.”
The older woman gave her a stern look, but only rustled her papers threateningly before turning back to the figures on the smartboard. Lexa let out a soundless sigh of relief as she reached for her phone and flicked the switch to silence it. She knew that if it were only a year ago, Indra would have bounced her out of this meeting on her ear for coming in here with her phone unsilenced, putting paid to her hopes of promotion—but thankfully, you can’t chuck your own boss out of the quarterly review.
I guess there are some perks to this job. Not enough to make up for the long, long, really long hours, though…
She couldn’t keep a rueful smile from twitching at her lips as she recalled the scene she’d been treated to when saying goodbye to Clarke that morning. Her girlfriend had known what she was going to say before she’d said it, she was sure, because she’d been painting as impossibly enticing a picture as she was capable of: half of a lingerie set, something lacy that just barely cupped the perfectly rounded cheeks of her ass; her hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head; one of Lexa’s old college shirts which, despite being too big for both of them, somehow managed to accentuate the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra; and, to cap it all off, a perfectly adorable pout.
“I’m going to be home late tonight,” Lexa had said, only to see that pout grow just a little deeper.
“Again?” Clarke had protested, with just the tiniest hint of a whine in her sleep-roughened voice. “You’ve been coming home late all week…and sometimes early. You got in at 2 AM last night. I’ve hardly seen you. Aren’t you the boss now? Can’t you tell them to finish up without you?”
“I know, babe, but we have to get these reports finalized by the end of the week, or I won’t be the boss for long,” Lexa had said. Clarke had pouted even harder, padding across the gleaming kitchen floor towards her on bare feet. Lexa had known it was a trap, but she hadn’t been able to make herself move before Clarke was pressed up against her.
“I miss you,” she’d said, and Lexa knew this behavior was somewhat ridiculous, but she couldn’t pretend like she didn’t miss Clarke too. In many ways, of course, but right now the way Clarke’s curves were molding themselves to hers, the shape of Clarke’s breasts as they moved freely beneath the thin shirt, and the way Clarke managed to slip a thigh between Lexa’s legs, had been the most pressing. And something else had been pressing as well, her shaft beginning to harden and swell against Clarke’s thigh…
“I’m gonna be late,” she’d stammered, pressing a quick kiss to her girlfriend’s lips and then practically throwing herself into the elevator. It had taken the entire ride down from the top-floor penthouse suite, and quite a lot of thinking about extremely unsexy things, to keep from embarrassing herself when she’d stepped out of the elevator and waved a sheepish goodbye to the doorman...
Back in the present, she sighed again, then shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Thoughts of Clarke’s farewell threatened to bring back the same problem it had caused that morning. To distract herself, she thumbed the home button on her phone to peek at the message she had received. A second later, she was choking on air, and the problem she’d been seeking to solve had instead become a great deal larger.
I miss you in me.
Five words. Barely a sentence. Clarke had managed to undo her in less than six syllables.
I miss you in me.
They were only letters on a glowing screen, but somehow, she could hear them in Clarke's smoky voice, a rasping plea right against her ear.
I miss you in me.
Fuck. She had no idea how she was going to concentrate during this meeting, let alone for the rest of the work day. Indra's voice had become a wordless, distant roar in her ears, a faded wash of sound with no substance. The soft buzz of the fluorescent lights, the occasional sniffing and coughing, and the rustling of papers all disappeared as the words played over and over again in her head, like a torturous record skipping.
I miss you in me.
Every thundering heartbeat sent a pounding ache straight between her legs, to where she had begun to strain against the front of her slacks. She shifted awkwardly in her seat, hoping none of the people near her would notice. She wasn't exactly closeted, but her gender identity and her genitalia were her own private business. Besides, she didn't want to give anyone else an eyeful except for Clarke...
Clarke. The way they had fit together that morning. The way Clarke's breasts had molded to hers. The way Clarke's lips had hovered so enticingly near her own, wet and plump, waiting for a kiss...
Her phone buzzed again, although thankfully, the noise wasn't audible. She felt the slight jolt in her lap, and shuddered through another throb at the ticklish sensation. Lexa squirmed again, trying to regulate her breathing, but resisted the temptation to check right away. She already knew it was from Clarke. It had to be. But if she looked now, she wouldn't stand a chance. The meeting might as well be cancelled.
"And now, if I could draw your attention to this graph..."
Lexa tried valiantly to keep her eyes on the smartboard as Indra gestured at a colorful pie chart, but her efforts were in vain. The phone was practically burning in her lap. What did Clarke send me? More suggestions? She remembered all too well the ways in which Clarke had tried to entice her into calling in sick, the tempting offers Clarke had muttered in her ear before covering it in a wash of hot breath and nipping the lobe. They had involved Clarke's mouth, and her tongue, and oh God, she did not want to be here, listening to Indra talk about sales figures.
She couldn't stand it anymore. She scooted her chair forward, hiding the phone and as much of her lap as possible beneath the table before hitting the home button and turning on the screen.
It wasn't words at all. It was a picture. A picture of Clarke's mostly-naked breasts. Mostly naked, because one cup of her lacy bra was pulled down, revealing a stiff, cherry-red nipple to the open air. Two fingers were plucking at the pretty bud, and Lexa felt her own nipples harden against her camisole, puckering so fast that the motion almost chafed.
She swallowed, closing the picture reluctantly before anyone could see it. As much as she wanted to stare at Clarke's breasts—and she could have done so for hours, truth be told—she didn't want her coworkers to steal a peek by accident. Several of them were looking at her curiously already, as if they expected her to speak. It was then that Lexa realized the room's eyes were on her, and it took an effort of will not to start.
Oh shit. Was someone talking to me? She glanced at Indra, but her former mentor's face revealed no hint of mercy. It was obvious that Indra was going to leave her to flounder, probably because she'd been rude enough to leave her phone on at the start of the meeting.
“I'm very sorry, Indra,” she said sweetly, with as charming a smile as she could muster while trying to conceal a hard-on. “Do you think you could repeat the question?”
“I asked,” Indra said, with very subtle emphasis that somehow still managed to be biting, “whether you had reviewed and approved the figures from the April campaigns.”
“Yes, I have,” Lexa said, with just the barest hint of steel in her tone. And you knew that. You just wanted to catch me flat-footed. “As well as May, June, and July. Please continue with the assumption that I know precisely what you're talking about.”
Indra nodded sharply, then turned her razor-sharp gaze to Blake, one of the junior members of the account team, and Indra’s new protégé. “Excellent. Ms. Blake, could you please provide a rundown of the projected numbers for the Stephens and Jessop campaigns?”
Looking green, the girl stood, drawing a shaking breath. Out from under the spotlight of Indra’s flinty glare, Lexa allowed her attention to shift back to her phone. She knew what she needed to do, of course. She should send a text to Clarke telling her that as much as she wanted her girlfriend—and god how she did—this needed to stop. She couldn’t be doing this at work. She needed to put her phone in airplane mode—no, turn it off— and prepare herself to weather the inevitable pouting when she got home. A sufficient amount of groveling, and some pancakes in bed, would probably get her out of the doghouse.
Lexa sighed, unlocking her phone in preparation to do just that, but then it buzzed with another text. She didn’t even have time to steel herself against what came next, but was caught with the full blast:
Want you so bad, daddy.
That particular word didn’t work on her every day. Some days, it prodded at her dysphoria—mostly dormant these past few years, but still lurking deep beneath the surface. Other days, it simply made her snicker like a child who had heard something inappropriate. Some days it was a term of endearment, reminding her of how she and Clarke had met: back when she’d been only a mid-level but wealthy business shark and Clarke had been a poor, starving art student who refused to let anyone else pay for anything. (‘I don’t need a sugar daddy,’ past-Clarke had insisted, long and loud. Sometimes, Lexa enjoyed teasing present-Clarke about past-Clarke’s statement).
But some days, on her ‘butch’ days—and Clarke always seemed to know precisely when those days were, even without being told—she had an entirely different reaction. And today was one of those days.
Lexa had to shut her eyes and swallow a groan. Her cock twitched, swelling to full hardness in an instant. Not for the first time, she wished that her fashion sense didn’t run so much to streamlined Italian tailoring, because the shaft was pressing painfully against the seam of her pants. Attempting to shift as subtly as possible to relieve the pounding pressure between her legs, she glared down at the phone, as though she could scold Clarke through it just by looking. This has to stop now. There’s only so much I can take…
But before she could retaliate, her phone buzzed again with a volley of messages.
I’m all alone in bed
Wet n ready for you
Wanna see?
Lexa couldn’t honestly say how she would have responded, but either way, it didn’t matter. She didn’t get a chance before the next message came through. Even though she knew it was the absolute worst idea she’d ever had—and she’d had a few bad ones in her lifetime (basejumping and a drunken mixed martial arts throwdown with Roan, her trainer, came to mind)—she tapped to open it.
It was a picture clearly taken from close to Clarke’s face, because Lexa’s gaze was able to travel down the line of Clarke’s body from the generously rolling hills of her cleavage, just barely covered in a lacy black bra, down the toned plane of her stomach, to where her pussy was hidden by a delicate scrap of something that probably called itself underwear, but seemed to offer about as much coverage as tissue paper. One of Clarke’s hands was toying with the edge of the fabric, and Lexa’s mouth went dry as she fixed on the way her girlfriend’s fingers curled just barely under the band.
Before she could think better of it, or think at all, her own fingers tapped out a reply:
Yes.
It was only a momentary lapse of her legendary self-control, but it was enough to write the text and hit send. A second later she was back in charge, shoving her phone into her pants almost violently, but the damage had already been done. It was inevitable that the instant she felt it buzz—and oh god, did she feel it, tingling at the base of her spine and in other, even more sensitive places—she’d be digging for the infernal device again, knowing exactly what it would contain and yet still unable to resist.
Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Another picture.
The image was much the same, but instead of playing with the hem of her panties, Clarke’s hand was pushed underneath it. Lexa knew exactly where her fingers were, and her own ached to be there, sliding through the familiar slick heat of her girlfriend’s slit, toying with her entrance, circling her clit…
Fuck, Woods, stop it! Right now!
But it was too late, because now she could practically hear the noises Clarke would be making, the soft mewls and quiet whimpers and exhortations not to tease.
Another buzz.
Goddammit. Lexa hadn’t thought it was possible to get any harder, but she did when she opened the next message. Clarke had withdrawn her hand and was now displaying it to the camera, glistening with wetness in the light of the flash. This time, Lexa couldn’t hold back her groan.
"Ms. Woods?"
Lexa swallowed, clearing her throat awkwardly as she turned to Indra. Her eyes must have been wide enough to show some of her panic—as well as her haze of arousal, courtesy of Clarke—because Indra's usually inscrutable expression showed the barest hint of concern for her. A normal person wouldn't have been able to recognize it, but Lexa had known Indra for years. "Yes?"
"Ms. Woods, are you all right to continue?"
That got the room muttering. It was probably the most emotion Indra had ever shown in a work environment. Lexa felt a twinge of guilt when she realized that Indra was actually worried for her. One interruption was an annoyance, but several in a row were very out of character, and Indra probably assumed she was sick, or had just received bad news, or...
Her phone vibrated again, and she winced, trying to muffle it with her hand. She desperately wanted to check and see what Clarke had sent, but she couldn't with the entire room's attention on her. "How much more material do we need to cover?"
"We could be finished for the day, if you aren't feeling well..."
Normally, she would have protested. Although she never judged or penalized her employees for calling out sick as long as they didn't abuse the privilege, she was the big boss. Ducking out of work early would have been setting a bad example. But...
She suppressed a shudder as she remembered the most recent picture Clarke had sent. The wetness glistening on Clarke's fingers had been the last straw. She wanted to see it for herself, to take it between her lips, to run her fingers and tongue through it and sink her shaft into it and drink in all the delicious sounds Clarke made.
"I do feel under the weather," she said, a bit more gruffly than she had intended. There were murmurs of concern, and Lexa breathed an inward sigh of relief. Apparently, the fact that she rarely did this was working to her advantage. Octavia Blake was frowning at her with obvious worry, and even Indra seemed concerned, in her own way.
"Then we'll end the meeting here. Octavia will send a summarizing email with all the information..."
Lexa was barely listening. With a grateful nod to Indra, she slipped out the door, making sure to face away from everyone else as she left the conference room. Once she was a few yards away, she activated her phone again. It had nearly killed her to wait and see Clarke's latest message.
It nearly killed her when she finally looked at it, too. It was another picture of Clarke's fingers, but this time, they weren't being held up for the camera. They were buried knuckle-deep between Clarke's legs, with more shimmering trails of wetness running everywhere. She could see the way Clarke's lips petaled open to accept them, and if she brought the phone close to her face, she could even catch a glimpse of Clarke's swollen clit between two of the joints.
Lexa nearly choked on her own tongue. She ducked into the elevator, glancing over her shoulder just once to make sure no one was following her. Once she was safe, she typed out a quick message:
Don't you dare finish. I'm coming home.
* * *
Lexa drove back home at a speed just over reckless and approaching suicidal, pulling into her reserved parking spot with a squeal of tires. Thinking a wordless apology at her Benz, which certainly didn’t deserve such treatment, she had to restrain herself from leaping out of the car and dashing to the elevator that would take her to her penthouse apartment. Her penthouse apartment, which contained her bed. Her bed, which contained Clarke, wet and needy and possibly still clenching around her own fingers—
She hissed as her cock gave a powerful throb, so potent that she had to stop just shy of the lobby door and slam her hand against the wall to keep from toppling over. But apparently she wasn’t going to catch a break today. The moment she’d managed to finally settle her breathing, the phone in her pocket buzzed again, perilously close to her painfully hard shaft. Screaming internally, she fished the infernal device out of her pants, prepared to throw it against the nearest wall, but not without checking it first.
It appeared that she’d missed several texts from Clarke in her haste to make it home, and they now blared up at her from the screen, each more amorous than the last:
You coming for me yet, daddy?
Need you so bad
God it hurts
Please Lexa
I’m so close
A sudden stab of mingled arousal and concern broke the last of Lexa’s restraint. She swiped herself into the building and practically sprinted to the elevator, meticulously ignoring the eyes and greetings of anyone who might have been in the lobby. She punched the button for the top floor and then spent the next several minutes cursing the elevator’s smooth glide as it hummed its way upwards to where her girlfriend was waiting for her, shuddering with barely suppressed release...
It took everything she had not to explode right then and there at the thought, but Lexa held on by the skin of her teeth, and, perversely, by thinking of Clarke, soaked and ready, her entrance pulsing greedily, begging for Lexa to fill her. As soon as the elevator dinged open into her private entryway, she was shedding clothes, fighting off her shoes and socks and nearly strangling herself in her haste to remove her tie. But when she went to remove her suit jacket and fling it into a corner, something made her hesitate, made her gain back the barest modicum of control over herself, and that was enough. Because for all that her lizard brain was screaming at her to strip off the rest and dash into the bedroom and take Clarke like an animal, there was another, stronger part of her that knew what her girlfriend truly needed.
And so, pushing down the harsh burn of her own desires, Lexa forced herself to remove her jacket and fold it neatly on the back of a chair. Then, methodically, she removed her cufflinks and placed them on the hall table with her keys and phone. At this point she knew Clarke had to have heard her come in, had to be waiting there in the bedroom, probably rubbing her clit and letting out little whimpers, listening for the slightest sound that would tell her Lexa was coming to rescue her from her own aching arousal. A moment later, her patience was rewarded.
“Lexa?”
It was less of a question and more of a drawn-out moan, but in Clarke’s husky voice it was both pure sex and pure torture. Lexa had to swallow several times before she trusted herself to speak.
“I’m here, babygirl.”
She was rolling up her shirtsleeves when she heard Clarke’s cracked groan: “Lex, please, I need you so much, need you in me…”
“You need to be patient, Clarke,” Lexa said, desire roughening her voice into a low growl. “If you need to be filled so badly, do it yourself.”
There was a cry of protest, but Lexa could hear the sound of surrender in it, the tone that told her that she had been right, that this was exactly what Clarke was after—the total control of her orgasm, her body, everything. She paused on her way through the apartment, sucking in a breath. Could she do this? It certainly wasn’t the first time they’d played with this dynamic—a certain episode on the balcony at a work event several months ago sprang to mind, and made her twitch heavily—but it always took an effort of will on her part to get into the right headspace. It brought up complicated questions and feelings about her identity, about the power dynamics they played with, especially when Clarke called her daddy…
She knew from hours of discussions about it that her girlfriend meant it entirely in a playful, kinky way, not a gendered one. She was confident enough in her gender, and in Clarke’s acceptance of it, to be less concerned about that element of it than the power exchange at play. But what ultimately made the decision for her, as it always did, was that it was what Clarke wanted. No, what Clarke needed, if the broken moan that emanated from behind the bedroom door was any indication.
“Lexa!”
That did it. She would try to restrain herself once she was in the bedroom, but she needed to see what she was hearing. Needed to see it in person, not just in a hastily snapped picture on her phone. She needed to see Clarke's desire, her desperation, the way her body arched as she fucked herself. As I fuck her. But first, I have to make her beg.
It wasn't normally something she craved. Denial was more Clarke's thing, not hers. But at this particular moment, it seemed undeniably appealing. She's already all worked up for me. It would be a shame to end it in just a few seconds. And judging by the ache between Lexa's legs and the desperate whimpers Clarke was making through the door, a few seconds was all it would take.
Gathering all the resolve she possessed, Lexa headed toward the door at a carefully moderated pace. Her feet were muffled by the carpet in the hallway, but she made sure to turn the knob with an audible click, hoping it would make Clarke shiver. She wasn't disappointed. When she opened the door, the sight splayed out on their bed hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze, completely winded, unable to hide the expression of awe on her face.
Clarke was indeed arching on the mattress, hand working furiously between her legs. Her breasts bounced with every rolling movement, and her hair was tossed in a riot of golden curls across the pillow. Her thighs were spread wide, offering an enticing view, but her fingers were moving so fast that Lexa couldn't see much more than a blur. Her stomach muscles shuddered and clenched, and when Clarke finally looked at her, blue eyes hazy with lust, the pink curve of her bottom lip shining with saliva, Lexa couldn't help but groan.
The pictures on her phone couldn't hold a candle to this.
"You haven't come yet, have you?" Lexa asked once she had recovered. She fixed Clarke with a searching look, narrowing her own eyes ever so slightly.
It took Clarke a moment to answer. She was still wrapped up in a haze of pleasure, trembling all over, whining with each swift circle she made over her clit. Eventually, she slowed down in order to speak, although it looked like easing up was agonizing. "No. I've been good."
"Good?" Lexa arched a skeptical brow, staring between Clarke's legs. Her fingers were still working, although she had stopped rubbing her clit. Two of them were buried up to the knuckle, stretching Clarke's entrance, dripping with shiny fluid. Lexa had to swallow down the excess moisture in her mouth. As much as she wanted to bury her face between Clarke's thighs for a taste, she knew that wasn't the scene her lover had set up. It wasn't what Clarke needed.
"I didn't come," Clarke panted, muscles still flexing and releasing rhythmically.
Lexa believed her. The tension in Clarke's body was too obvious for the statement to be a lie. She was practically vibrating with desperation, and Lexa couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. Only a little. She is the one who started this. "It was pretty bad of you, though, to send me those kinds of pictures while I was at work," she said, carefully measuring her tone and stripping it of the desire she actually felt. "You distracted me from something very important. And that kind of behavior means you need to be punished."
Clarke let out a wail, but Lexa could hear the approval behind the desperation, could see the excitement in her girlfriend’s eyes before she squeezed them shut, tears trailing down her cheeks. Lexa felt an answering stab of excitement as she paced across the room, opening the door to their walk-in closet and pulling out the large wooden trunk that contained their favorite toys. Angling herself so that Clarke could see exactly what she was doing, she selected a soft coil of rope, and was rewarded with a whimper.
“I don’t trust you or those hands of yours not to wander while you’re taking your punishment,” Lexa told her, turning back to the bed. “Get on your stomach, ankles together, hands behind your back. The longer it takes, the longer your punishment will be.”
Clarke let out another soft whine, but scrambled eagerly to follow her commands. Lexa could feel an answering twist of desire in her own stomach, but it was quickly followed by guilt. She wants this, she reminded herself as she waited for Clarke to be ready. She started it, by texting you those pictures, by calling you ‘daddy.’ And she knows her safeword, if you do anything that crosses a line.
Lexa cringed away mentally from the thought of doing anything that might cross any of Clarke’s boundaries, but ultimately she knew that unless she wanted to call this off right now, she needed to trust her lover to know those boundaries and draw Lexa’s attention to them if she felt they were being pushed too far.
Hardening her face, Lexa returned her attention to Clarke, who was now laid out on the bed in the position that Lexa had demanded. She was practically wriggling with anticipation, breaths coming quick and shallow. Forcing herself to keep her movements slow and careful in deliberate contrast to Clarke’s obvious impatience, Lexa efficiently and expertly wound the rope around her girlfriend’s limbs in the pattern of a perfect hogtie. By the time she was done, Clarke was no longer wriggling. She could barely move, but there was the hint of a whimper at the end of each of her breaths, and Lexa guessed that she’d gotten even wetter, probably already leaving a damp patch on the sheets beneath her.
Stepping back and pretending to consider what to do with her badly-behaved lover next, Lexa allowed Clarke to subtly test her bonds, making certain that they didn't pinch or rub anywhere uncomfortably. It only took a moment before the younger woman turned to look at her pleadingly, eyes wide and pupils blown with desire. “Daddy, please…”
Lexa shook her head. “No. You knew exactly what you were doing when you sent me those texts. And those pictures…do you know what that did to me, babygirl?” Clarke’s eyes flicked immediately to the swell at the front of Lexa’s pants, and the executive nodded sharply. “That’s right. I was in the middle of a very important meeting and you knew that…but you couldn't keep from playing with yourself and telling me all about it, could you?”
Clarke shut her eyes and shivered at the harshness in her tone, and Lexa would have bet anything that her girlfriend had just clenched around nothing. She had to tense her jaw against the impulse to slide her fingers into the wetness and warmth she knew must be waiting for her. Taking advantage of the momentary lapse of attention, Lexa crossed to the bed in two swift strides and drew Clarke across her lap. The abruptness of her movements earned her a squeal, but Clarke wasn't nearly as surprised as she was pretending to be: seconds later, she was grinding down against Lexa’s cock, seeking friction and making Lexa choke back a groan. She rewarded her lover’s impatience with a sharp slap to the perfectly shaped rear that was now displayed for her so beautifully.
The blow was more sound than force, but its effect was immediate, and utterly perfect. Clarke cried out, her entire body tensing under Lexa’s hand. As if that reaction wasn't wonderful enough, however, Lexa could feel a pulse of wetness trickle against her thigh. She grinned as she smoothed out the fading red mark against her lover’s skin, trailing her fingers down the slope of Clarke’s ass and delighting in the way that she arched as best she could to get Lexa where she wanted her. But she took her time, reminding herself of just how hard her girlfriend was sure to come if she forced herself to be patient.
“Well, that got your attention,” Lexa murmured, bending over so that her words brushed the nape of Clarke’s neck. “But I don't think you've learned your lesson just yet. Let’s see…” Finally allowing her fingers to slip lower, she found her hand immediately soaked with the evidence of Clarke’s arousal. Fighting off a moan, Lexa toyed with her lover’s slick folds, moving from her pulsing entrance to her throbbing clit. After giving it a couple of light, teasing strokes, she punished the needy bud with a swift, brutal pinch.
“Ah!”
“Just look at you,” Lexa growled, holding on tight as her girlfriend spasmed so that she wouldn't accidentally wind up on the floor. “Soaked and begging for me already. God, you need this so badly, don't you? But you're just going to have to wait. Good girls get fucked…but I don't think you've earned that just yet.”
She hadn’t always been comfortable using her cock for penetration. It had been off the menu for a number of years, back when she was young and insecure and newly out and had something to prove—she was a woman, damn it, and women got fucked, not the other way around. But now, things were different. Now, she wore suits and ties when she felt like it, because other women did, so why not her? Now, she wore an expensive watch from the men’s section without worrying that one item of clothing would erase her chosen identity. And now, with Clarke at her disposal, and she wanted nothing more than to give her lover the fucking she was asking for, as the woman she was… right after she gave Clarke the spanking she deserved.
Withdrawing her hand from Clarke’s welcoming warmth took an exertion of will, but the cry that Lexa earned when she brought it down again on Clarke’s ass was well worth it. This time, she was treated to the gorgeous sight of Clarke's entrance pulsing after the blow. The tight pink ring of muscle twitched, pulling greedily at nothing. Then Clarke let out a delicious little sigh, with a slight break in the middle, and more wetness spilled out of her—clear, slippery strings that dripped down over the straining bud of her clit to stain her inner thighs.
Lexa gathered up the mess with her fingers, massaging two of the slick tips in a 'v' on either side of Clarke's clit. "You like this, don't you, babygirl?" she murmured, milking the root of the swollen shaft. Clarke moaned in agreement, lifting her hips for more, but didn't speak. Lexa stopped toying at once, delivering another sharp smack to the upturned swell of Clarke's ass. "I asked you a question," she said, hoping she didn't sound too breathless. It was difficult to sound in-control when all she wanted to do was throw Clarke face-first onto the bed and fuck her.
"Yes..." Lexa squeezed one cheek of Clarke's ass, letting her nails dig in just a little in a combination of approval and chastisement. It was good that Clarke was answering, but she hadn't answered correctly. "Yes, daddy. I like it. Please..." Lexa considered punishing Clarke for the plea, but as she looked down at the perfect red handprints on Clarke's ass and the adorable dimples at the small of her beautiful back, she couldn't resist. She brought her fingers back between Clarke's legs, grinding slow circles over the tip of her clit.
The sweet little yelps she earned with each stroke sent painful lances of pressure straight to her cock. The fullness was actually starting to hurt, and she knew Clarke could feel it by the way she was shifting, seeking out more contact. "Hold still," she warned, abandoning Clarke's clit and scoring her lover's soft, sticky thighs with the edges of her nails instead. "You haven't taken your punishment yet."
"Punishment? Seriously?" Clarke's tone was incredulous, as well as annoyed, and Lexa had to stifle a laugh. It was true that Clarke wasn't the most obedient sub when she chose to bottom like this, or that good at keeping in-character, but this was bratty behavior even for her. "Come on, Lexa,” she said, in something much closer to her normal voice. “You've been torturing me!"
"Really, Clarke?" Lexa snorted, shaking her head. "You're the one who sent those pictures! You were asking for this."
Clarke peered back over her shoulder as best she could in her bound state, her perfect, plump bottom lip sticking out in a pout. "But I've had to wait so long... and I still haven't come..."
That was true. Clarke had, at least, followed Lexa's order not to seek out release on her own. Still, she needed some kind of punishment. And since Lexa was starting to feel desperate herself, so desperate that the base of her length was pounding harder and faster than her heart, she decided to take mercy—more for her own benefit than Clarke's, because Clarke definitely didn't deserve it.
"Ten blows," she said, gripping Clarke's golden hair and forcing her head down once more. "Three for each picture you sent me, and one extra just because. And they aren't going to be love taps, either."
She waited for any objections, but none came. Instead, Clarke seemed to surrender, sighing and wiggling her behind ever so slightly as she did her best to settle in a comfortable position. The ropes tugging at her wrists and ankles made that impossible, and Lexa smirked with pride. She knew Clarke had to be feeling a bit stiff thanks to the position she was in, as well as very helpless.
"Count them out for me, babygirl. Ready?"
"Yes."
Lexa studied Clarke's ass, trying to pick which side to start with, but over and over again, her eyes kept flicking downwards to Clarke's pussy. Just looking at the pretty pink folds and the steady river of wetness leaking from them was almost enough to make her come in her pants. Her underwear was actually starting to hurt. Just ten spanks. Then I can take it off. Be inside her.
She brought her hand down hard against Clarke's left cheek with the full force of her frustration. This was mostly for Clarke's benefit, and she was going to make damn sure that Clarke felt the same wonderful discomfort she did. Clarke cried out, her entire body shaking in Lexa’s lap. She had been listening carefully for her girlfriend’s response, however, and discerned notes of surprise and pleasure rather than dismay. Good, Lexa noted to herself. She wants it rough today. Well, that's what she's gonna get.
Lexa waited to hear Clarke’s voice counting off the first slap, but she was still wiggling as much as her limited range of motion would allow. Figuring it wouldn't be fair to punish her further without reminding her of the rules first, Lexa growled, “Don't forget to count, babygirl. Every time you forget a number, you get to repeat the slap. Do you understand?”
Whether it was from the rough tone of her voice or the prospect of further spanks or a combination of both, Lexa couldn't be sure, but Clarke gasped and writhed just a little harder before gasping out, “Yes, daddy. One...”
The ass wiggling so invitingly in front of her was more than enough encouragement to continue, and Lexa did. She dealt out the next few blows swiftly, each a little harder than the last, waiting a few seconds in between each one to hear Clarke’s responses. Her girlfriend’s voice vacillated between needy whimpers and breathy moans, but she hadn't yet progressed to the desperate cries that told Lexa she was reaching her limit. Knowing that Clarke was counting on her to push her there, Lexa bent low over her body before delivering the fifth slap.
“Look at my dirty little girl, wriggling around on my lap like this. You're enjoying this, aren't you? You like being spanked. And you love knowing that every time you sit down tomorrow, you'll be reminded of how I punished you.”
Clarke groaned, but she still had the wherewithal to grind subtly against Lexa’s erection where it was pressing up against her stomach. “Yes, daddy.”
Lexa clenched her jaw to ward off a strangled sound. “Little slut. You know you're just asking to be spanked harder, don't you?”
It was a question disguised as a degrading comment, and Clarke’s louder moan was all she needed to hear. “Fine. Just know you asked for this. And once I'm done punishing my bad little girl, I'm gonna fuck you just as hard and dirty as the slut you are.”
Without giving Clarke time to brace herself for the blow, Lexa leaned back and dealt out a flurry of slaps. Clarke managed to count out each one, but the truth was that even if she'd failed, it wouldn't matter. Lexa’s cock was pounding desperately in her pants, aching to be thrust somewhere warm and tight and wet, and nothing would stop her now. Still, through the ruddy haze of her desire, she managed to listen for her lover’s reactions, the way her voice climbed in pitch as the blows got harder, the way she gasped and moaned out each number.
“Five…six…seven… ah! God, Lexa… eight…nine…”
Lexa waited just an extra second to deliver the final slap, long enough to unsettle Clarke, to make her wonder when it would come, and then brought her hand down harshly.
“Ah!”
There was definite pain in her girlfriend’s voice, but also a kind of bliss. It told Lexa that she'd done her job well, delivered Clarke across the threshold. And now it was time for their shared reward.
Swiftly and expertly untying Clarke’s ankles, Lexa re-tied the ropes so that her wrists remained behind her back. Then, maintaining tension and contact with the bonds, she slid out from under her girlfriend’s suddenly limp legs. Clarke let out a low groan, spreading them immediately, and Lexa felt her mouth go dry at the sight that awaited her.
The outer lips of Clarke's pussy were petaled apart, swollen and red at the edges, inviting her in. The inner lips shimmered, and steady pulses of slickness poured from Clarke's twitching entrance, clinging to her thighs. Her clit was visibly throbbing, straining beneath its hood, and Lexa felt her own cock ache just looking at it. Fuck. She's so ready. If I gave the order, she could probably come without being touched at all...
But Lexa wasn't that cruel, or that patient. She ripped off her pants and underwear, scrambling on top of Clarke less than gracefully and smothering kisses over her back. It was a little awkward with the way Clarke's wrists were tied, but Lexa didn't care. She wanted Clarke's skin in her mouth and Clarke's warmth wrapped around her shaft. It was the easiest thing in the world to slip a hand between their bodies, grip her length, and line herself up.
Clarke started to buck as soon as Lexa began easing herself in. There was plenty of slickness to help her along, but Clarke was shifting so urgently that the angle kept changing. Eventually, Lexa had to take Clarke's shoulder in her teeth and growl to keep her still. She didn't let go until Clarke made a little sigh and gave in, holding a single position long enough for Lexa to push the head inside.
It took everything she had not to come. The warm silk of Clarke's inner walls clamped down around her, clenching and fluttering, trying to tug her deeper. Lexa gave her hips a slight jog, expecting to sink another inch forward, but instead, almost all of her shaft disappeared. Clarke was so wet, so open, so eager to be fucked that there was barely any resistance.
Not yet, Lexa told herself, holding her breath and fighting off the surge of pleasure swelling inside her. You've waited this long. You can wait a little longer—
But apparently, Clarke couldn't. She let out a wail, trembling from head to toe as her inner muscles rippled. Lexa froze, a little surprised, but not at all disappointed. Technically, Clarke was supposed to wait for permission before coming, but in the heat of the moment, Lexa didn't mind her disobedience. She was too wrapped up in the fact that Clarke was coming. Coming around her, for her, because of her...
She seated the last inch of her cock inside of Clarke, determined to ride out the contractions. They came heavy and fast, squeezing her shaft impossibly tight, so tight that she couldn't really move. All she could do was clutch Clarke’s hips and continue scattering kisses over her heaving back as her lover whimpered and panted and shuddered beneath her.
It was addictive, having this kind of power over Clarke, even more intoxicating than the sweet little sounds she made or the way she rocked her hips for more or the welcoming heat of her pussy. The moments that Clarke—stubborn Clarke, sarcastic Clarke, determined and indomitable Clarke—melted beneath her hands were the moments Lexa treasured most. She hadn’t even known it was something she would grow to love when they’d first met, but now…
Now, she didn’t think she could live without it. Without the validation and acceptance Clarke gave her. Simply seeing Clarke so free and happy, completely unbound despite the taut ropes around her wrists and ankles, made Lexa feel free and happy too. It made saying all the filthy things that brought a flush to her cheeks worth it, just to see Clarke like this.
By the time Clarke finally wound down, she had broken out in a sweat. Her skin was sticky and flushed, and Lexa couldn’t help beaming with pride. She didn’t even try to peel their bodies apart. She just nipped at Clarke’s neck to get her attention, rasping out instructions beside her ear. “You’re not supposed to come without permission, babygirl.”
“I… I know...” But Clarke was already grinding back into her again, trying to get a rhythm going. Lexa knew that she was very close to reaching the limit of what she could take, so she affected a firm but gentle tone.
“You need to stop, babygirl. I don't want to have to punish you again.”
Clarke mewled, but the combination of Lexa’s firm words and firm hands on her hips was enough to make her stop pushing back, although she couldn't seem to cease her body’s frantic shaking. Lexa was satisfied by her girlfriend’s display of submission, but cognizant of the fact that Clarke would need stimulation, and soon—and also very aware of the way Clarke’s inner walls gripped her. If she didn't start moving, she'd wind up bringing this encounter to a very embarrassing and inadvertent conclusion.
So she switched gears, her rough growl smoothing into a low, loving murmur as she bent low over Clarke’s back, alternating words with nips to her ear: “You’re doing so good, babygirl, you're taking me so well, and you're almost done, almost there—I just need you to hold on for a little bit longer, all right? Be patient and I'll make you come so hard you’ll scream.”
Clarke gasped, spasming around her cock, and Lexa had to squeeze her eyes shut to hold off her own orgasm, but a moment later her girlfriend was nodding furiously. “Yes, daddy, I can do it, I can take it—just please, please move, please let me—”
Lexa couldn't hold back any longer. Pulling her hips back so that only the head of her cock stayed within Clarke’s wet warmth was torture, but pushing back in, all the way to the hilt, made her groan with pleasure. As soon as her hips made contact with the smooth, rosy skin of Clarke’s ass, however, she knew she was lost. “Get ready, babygirl,” she growled in Clarke’s ear, before pulling back again and setting a punishing pace.
Clarke was all gasps and moans and shudders, her pussy clenching tighter and tighter around Lexa’s cock with every thrust, seeking to draw out the pressure that Lexa could feel pounding along her shaft. She was soon breathless and dizzy with how good it felt, how hot and wet and tight Clarke was, but somehow she managed to keep up a running stream of filthy commentary that made her lover cry out and shiver even harder: “God, you feel so good, baby…you’re just totally soaked for me... You fit me like a glove, like you were made for only me… Your pussy is just squeezing around me so hard I can barely move… Is there something you want, Clarke? You have to tell me.”
She punctuated each phrase with an increasingly brutal thrust, earning herself a loud cry or moan and another flood of wetness from around the base of her shaft. From the way that Clarke was clamping down around her, and the tight coil of release she could feel building in the pit of her stomach, Lexa could tell that neither of them was going to last much longer. But she knew if she didn’t manage to enforce this last show of dominance, this final demand of submission, the scene would feel incomplete—not wasted, just not as powerful as it could have been. Bracing her weight on her elbows, she bent low over Clarke’s back again to growl into her ear, her own voice rough with need:
“You need to tell me, babygirl, or you don't get to come. I know what it is, but you need to tell me…”
Clarke just wailed, and Lexa could tell that she was beyond words at this point. Chewing her lip, she slowed her strokes as much as she could, trying to figure out a way to deliver the release they both craved without compromising the scene. At last, she hit upon a solution, and bent down again to mutter it into Clarke’s ear.
“I know you want me to come inside you, to fill up your tight little pussy, but I need to hear it from you, Clarke. Is that what you want?”
“Yes!” the younger woman cried out, pressing back against her in search of pressure, friction, anything. “Yes, Lexa, come inside me, I want to feel you, please, daddy…”
“Fuck,” Lexa grunted, feeling her girlfriend’s inner walls squeezing her torturously. “Then hold still, babygirl, and take it.”
Leaning back and taking a bruising hold on Clarke’s hips, she finally allowed herself to do what she'd wanted from the start, from the moment she'd gotten that first text. She fucked into Clarke, all restraint and caution gone, simply using her lover’s body to bring about her own release. But what really did the job was the fact that she knew, from her girlfriend’s own admission, that Clarke loved it when she lost control this way, when she let herself go, rutted into her mindlessly, like an animal…
The thought of Clarke’s pleasure was enough to propel Lexa into a powerful peak. She shouted her throat raw, all the tension in her body finally releasing as she pumped into her girlfriend’s clinging channel. She jerked her hips against Clarke’s ass, trying to keep up her rhythm, but Clarke’s muscles kept gripping her, squeezing her, refusing to give her up. The harsh ripples coaxed her to empty everything she had, and she surrendered, collapsing on top of Clarke’s back as she twitched through the last of her orgasm.
“Oh fuck,” she mumbled, smothering the graceful line of Clarke’s shoulder with kisses and sucking in greedy gulps of air between them. Her lungs burned, and so did the muscles of her legs and rear, but she didn’t care. The exertion had been more than worth it. She shuddered happily as thin rivulets of sweat evaporated from her body, nuzzling one of the marks she had left on Clarke’s neck. “Clarke, baby, that was so good…”
“Mm.” For a moment, they simply breathed together, letting their heartbeats fall into sync. “Untie me, please? These ropes are starting to chafe.”
“Oh!” Lexa scrambled off Clarke’s back as quick as she could, hissing a little as she withdrew her cock from the comforting warmth of Clarke’s pussy. She hadn’t been ready to give up the soothing satin walls, but the last thing she wanted in the world was to make Clarke uncomfortable. She hurried to untie the knots, fingers fumbling a little as she shook off her post-orgasmic haze. Finally, the ropes came free. “Better?”
Clarke groaned in relief, sitting up and rolling out the kinks in her shoulders. “Much better.” She let out a loud whoosh of breath and flipped onto her back, stretching her arms out in both directions and gazing up at the ceiling with a happy, dazed expression. It was one of complete satisfaction, but still, niggling doubts tugged at Lexa’s mind. She had become more accustomed to performing these kinds of scenes for Clarke in the past year—and she was growing to enjoy them just as much—but she couldn’t suppress her impulse to check in.
“Did I, uh—was that okay?”
“Are you seriously asking?” Clarke rolled her eyes, patting the empty space on the bed beside her. “You’re such an idiot,” she cooed, in a voice so full of love that Lexa couldn’t help but beam. “It was fucking mindblowing. I won’t be able to sit down for a week, and that’s just how I like it. C’mere…daddy.”
“Enough of that,” Lexa whined. “The moment’s over. It’s just awkward now.” But she cuddled up against Clarke’s side, nuzzling into her shoulder and inhaling deeply. She smelled like citrus shampoo and salt and sex, and Lexa couldn’t get enough.
“Sorry,” Clarke murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You can go back to being my Lexa now.” She hesitated, then continued. “Just checking in. Are you okay with what just happened? No icky feelings?”
“Mm. No icky feelings. I enjoyed that almost as much as you did.” Lexa sighed with happiness, dusting light kisses along the crook of Clarke’s throat. “This was so worth skipping out on work early for.”
“Yeah?” Clarke’s lips tugged into a mischievous grin. “Indra isn’t going to kill you?”
“I’m the boss. She can’t complain.”
“Maybe…” Clarke shifted beside her, sitting up again and swinging a leg over her hips. “But I’m your boss.”
The new position made Lexa’s brows arch in surprise, but she didn’t object. Splayed on her back between Clarke’s thighs, she had a perfect view of her lover’s lush body. Clarke’s breasts swayed slightly as she moved, and her perfect round hips were practically begging to be squeezed. “Really? You think you’re the boss now?” she teased, running her hands up along Clarke’s legs. “Wasn’t I just spanking you? Weren’t you just begging for me to fuck you?”
“Yeah, well, that was a whole minute ago.” Clarke leaned in close, letting a curtain of curly blonde hair fall on either side of their faces. “It’s my turn to be on top.”
Lexa ran her fingers through Clarke’s soft mane, pushing it back to gaze into her sparkling blue eyes. “I spoil you, you know. I should still be punishing you for sending those pictures.”
“Maybe…” Clarke pressed a soft, wet kiss to her lips, tongue flicking out in a none-too-subtle tease. “But if you’re good, I’ll let you take some more yourself. Deal?”
The thought of snapping more pictures, and maybe even some video, while Clarke’s hands roamed over her body was too much for Lexa to resist. She ran the flat of her palm down Clarke’s smooth back, finding a gentle grip on her ass and squeezing just hard enough to earn a pleased hiss. “Deal.”