A Secret Afternoon with C
# A Secret, Shared Ava closed the front door behind her with a soft click, the unexpected silence of the house greeting her. Her plans for the day had collapsed, leaving her with a free afternoon. She’d called C’s name as she entered, but
Chapter 1
Ava closed the front door behind her with a soft click, the unexpected silence of the house greeting her. Her plans for the day had collapsed, leaving her with a free afternoon. She’d called C’s name as she entered, but only the hum of the refrigerator answered. A smile played on her lips. He was probably engrossed in a book, his clever mind lost in some complex puzzle, his glasses perched on his nose.
She padded down the hallway, the thick carpet muffling her steps. Their bedroom door was ajar. Pushing it open, the sight that greeted her wasn’t one of quiet reading.
C lay stretched across their bed, the afternoon sun painting stripes of gold across his form. But this was a different C. A blindfold of soft black silk covered his eyes. A red ball gag, shiny and obscene, filled his mouth. His wrists were bound to the bedposts with supple leather cuffs, and his ankles were similarly secured. He wore a delicate pair of her own black lace panties, the fragile fabric a stark, thrilling contrast against the dark leather. The outline of a vibrator, clearly on and humming, was visible beneath the lace, buried within him.
Ava froze, a cocktail of shock, arousal, and wild amusement bubbling inside her. He’d set this up for himself. A private, submissive ritual. He thought he was alone.
Her green eyes, alight with playful mischief, scanned the room. She remembered. The discreet box in his closet, the one she’d found by accident months ago. Tiptoeing, she retrieved it, the contents whispering as she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a small, mean-looking leather crop and a smooth, polished paddle.
A plan, delicious and wicked, solidified in her mind.
She moved to the bed, her presence still undetected over the steady buzz of the toy. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, the subtle tensing of his thighs. She picked up the crop, testing its weight.
With a gentle, precise swing, she brought the leather down on the swell of his ass, the sound a sharp, clean *thwack* in the quiet room.
C jerked against his restraints, a muffled cry escaping the gag. His head turned blindly toward the source.
“Shhh,” Ava whispered, pitching her voice lower, disguising its familiar cadence. “Didn’t you want to be used? To just feel?”
She ran the flat of the paddle up the back of his thigh, over the lace, savoring his shiver. Her free hand reached for the remote control she spotted on the nightstand. With a click, the vibration inside him intensified.
He moaned, arching his back, pushing against the new, unknown sensation. Ava watched, her own pulse quickening. She traced the line of his spine with the tip of the crop, then leaned down, her lips close to his ear, her blond bun brushing his cheek.
“You look so pretty like this,” she murmured, the dirty talk feeling natural, thrilling. “All trussed up and desperate. I wonder how long you can take it.”
She increased the speed again, her hand drifting to cup him through the lace, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal. He was completely at her mercy, and the power, the shared secret of this hidden side of him, was the most intoxicating foreplay she’d ever known. This was their adventure now, a playful, dominant game where every gasp he made was a gift to her.
Chapter 2
Ava watched his body strain, a symphony of desperate, beautiful tension. The power humming in her veins was sweeter than any wine. She lowered her voice another octave, letting the disguised tone brush against his ear.
“You’re so responsive. Every little twitch is a confession.” She dragged the cool, flat side of the paddle from the nape of his neck all the way down to the backs of his knees. “Tell me, is the vibration enough? Or do you need something… more?”
A frantic, muffled sound escaped the gag. It wasn’t a ‘no’.
With a cruel flick of her thumb, she cranked the remote to its highest setting. The buzz became a deep, insistent thrum. C’s back arched violently off the bed, a raw, choked cry tearing from his throat. His cock, trapped and straining against the fragile black lace, was visibly wet at the tip.
“There it is,” she cooed, crawling onto the bed to straddle his thighs. She could feel the heat of him through her jeans. She leaned over his bound form, her lips grazing his shoulder. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To be nothing but a thing for me to play with. To have your clever mind completely overridden by sensation.”
Her hand slid beneath him, cupping his balls through the lace, applying a gentle, possessive pressure. He shuddered, pushing back against her hand and into the vibrator’s relentless assault.
“I could leave you like this,” she mused, her playful tone laced with dark promise. “Tied and buzzing and desperate. I could go make a cup of tea and listen to you struggle. Would you like that? Would you come just from this, all by yourself, thinking a stranger was in your house?”
He moaned, long and ragged, the sound vibrating around the ball in his mouth. His hips began to move in tiny, involuntary circles.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she tutted, suddenly pulling her hand away and clicking the remote off. The abrupt silence was deafening. His whole body went rigid, then slack with a sob of frustrated need. “Not yet. We’re just getting started. I think it’s time you lost these pretty little things.”
Her fingers hooked into the waistband of the lace panties. With a deliberate, slow tear of the delicate fabric, she ripped them from his body, exposing him completely to the cool air and her heated gaze.
Chapter 3
The torn lace lay discarded on the rumpled sheets. Ava watched, her breath hitching, as C’s exposed body trembled in the sudden coolness. The sight of him, so utterly vulnerable and wanting, was breathtaking. She tossed the remote onto the pillow beside his head.
“So much need, all on display for me,” she whispered, her disguised voice a low, intimate rasp. She let the cool leather of the paddle ghost over the heated skin of his ass, admiring the faint pink blush from her earlier strike. “Tell me, pretty thing. With words gone, how will you ask for what you really want?”
A desperate, guttural sound vibrated around the ball gag. His hips twitched, seeking friction against the empty air.
Ava smiled, a predatory, loving curl of her lips. She slid off the bed, the floorboards silent under her feet, and retrieved the small velvet box once more. From its depths, she pulled out a sleek, black silicone plug, wider and more substantial than the vibrator he’d been using. She held it up, letting the light glint off its surface.
“I think we should trade up,” she murmured, crawling back onto the mattress. She placed a warm, steadying hand on the small of his back. “This one doesn’t buzz. It just… stays. Fills you up. Reminds you.” With her other hand, she carefully, slowly, withdrew the humming vibrator. C gasped as it left him, his body clenching around nothing.
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” she cooed, generously coating the new plug with lube from the nightstand. The slick, cold press of its tip against him made him jump. “That’s it. Take it for me. Show me how good you can be.”
She applied firm, inexorable pressure, watching the tight ring of muscle give way, stretching to accommodate the thickest part. He cried out, a muffled, beautiful sound of overwhelmed sensation, as the plug seated fully inside him. It was a profound, stretching fullness, utterly still and deeply possessive.
“Perfect,” Ava breathed, her own arousal a sharp ache between her thighs. She leaned over him, her lips brushing his ear, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Now, my clever boy. Let’s see if you can come just from my voice and the feel of this inside you. No hands. No touch. Just the knowledge that your wife is here, seeing every secret, shameless part of you.”
Chapter 4
The fullness of the plug was a silent, profound claim. Ava watched it, a dark, intimate jewel against his skin, and the fantasies began to bloom, wild and hot.
“What were you imagining, all alone here?” she whispered, her disguised voice husky with curiosity. She traced the line of his spine with a single fingernail, making him shiver. “When you put these on…” Her fingers brushed the torn lace on the sheets. “My panties. Was it a way to feel closer? Or was it a way to feel… owned?” She let the question hang, savoring his muffled whimper. “Did you picture someone else finding you? Someone bold who’d see you like this and just… take what they wanted?”
She leaned closer, her lips a breath from his ear. “The front door was unlocked when I came in. Did you think about that? Hoped for it, maybe? That a delivery person, or the neighbor returning a tool… what if they wandered in, heard a strange noise, and found you? Helpless. Dressed in lace and filled up. What would you have done?” She gave the plug a gentle, twisting push, and he cried out, his hips bucking. “You’d have taken it, wouldn’t you? You’d have let them use you, just to keep the secret.”
Her heart hammered. This was the core of it. The box in his closet. The silent, yearning wish.
“You’ve wanted this,” she said, the truth settling into her bones like warmth. “You’ve wanted *me* to see you. Not just as your clever wife, but as this. To hand you over. To take control.” She gripped his hair, not hard, but firmly, directing his blindfolded face toward her. “Is that what’s in your pretty, wicked head? Have you been dreaming of asking me? ‘Ava, tie me down. Ava, tell me what to do. Ava, make me feel so good it hurts.’”
A desperate, affirmative groan vibrated around the gag. Tears dampened the silk under his eyes.
“Then ask,” she commanded, her tone softening into a lover’s promise. She gently pulled the ball gag free, letting it hang at the side of his mouth. His breath came in ragged, wet gasps. “Use your words for me, my love. What do you want your domina to do?”
His voice was shattered, raw with need and shame and adoration. “Please…,” he panted. “Please, use the crop. On my thighs. And… and my cock. It’s so desperate. And then… God, Ava… then fuck me. Please. Claim me. I’ve been yours all along.”
A wave of fierce, possessive love crashed over her. She kissed his shoulder, a tender contrast to the dark heat in her words. “My good, honest boy. Asking so beautifully.” She picked up the leather crop again, its weight perfect in her hand. “Now, count for me.”
Chapter 5
Her heart soared at his raw, shameless plea. *This* was the man she married—the brilliant mind, now laid bare and begging. She let the crop trail down the back of his thigh, the leather whispering against his skin.
“Count,” she commanded, her voice low and firm. She lifted the crop and brought it down with a sharp, crisp *thwack* on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, just above his knee.
“One,” he gasped, his body jerking.
“Good boy.” She struck the other thigh in the same spot, a mirror image. “Two.”
*Thwack.* Higher up, closer to his ass. “Three.”
“Four,” he cried out as she landed a blow on the opposite side. His cock was achingly hard, leaking onto the sheets.
She shifted her position, kneeling beside him. “Now for what you really asked for,” she murmured. She tapped the leather tip lightly against the swollen head of his cock. He whimpered. “This is for being so honest with me.” She brought the crop down in a swift, stinging flick across the shaft.
“F-five!” he choked out, his hips bucking helplessly.
“You’re taking it so well,” she praised, her tone dripping with dark affection. She administered two more swift, precise strikes to his cock, each one making him cry out a number through gritted teeth. “Six. Seven.”
She dropped the crop and leaned over him, her lips against his ear. Her disguised voice fell away, leaving only her own, full of love and heat. “My turn now, my love. You asked so beautifully to be claimed.” Her hands went to the buckle of her jeans. The sound of her zipper was loud in the quiet room. “Are you ready for me?”
“God, yes,” he panted, straining against the cuffs. “Please, Ava. I need you.”
She shimmied out of her jeans and panties, then straddled his hips. She could feel the solid plug within him, a promise of the tightness to come. Guiding him with her hand, she sank down onto his cock in one slow, breathtaking slide.
A ragged, shattered moan tore from his throat. “Oh, fuck… you feel… you’re so perfect.”
“I know,” she breathed, beginning to move, riding him with deep, rolling thrusts. She reached back and gave the plug a gentle tug, making him arch and cry out beneath her. “All of you is mine. This tight, perfect ass…” She pulled the plug slightly, then pushed it back in, matching the rhythm of her hips. “And this gorgeous, desperate cock. My clever, submissive husband. All mine.”
Chapter 6
The rhythm she set was punishing and perfect, each deep, rolling slide of her hips punctuated by the subtle, filthy pressure of the plug within him. His moans were a continuous, ragged soundtrack, muffled only slightly by the gag. As she rode him, a vivid, intoxicating fantasy unfurled in her mind, fed by the sheer power of the moment.
“Is this what you dream about?” she breathed, her voice husky with exertion and possession. “Whole days of this? Me leaving you just like this… tied up, gagged, plugged full… maybe with a fucking machine set on a slow, relentless grind.” She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest, her lips at his ear. “You’d just have to take it. All day. Until I come home.” A wicked grin spread across her face. “Maybe I don’t come home alone. Maybe I bring a friend back to see what a good, desperate boy I have waiting. Would you like that? To be my secret showpiece?”
“Yes!” he cried out, the word distorted but fervent. His hips bucked up to meet her, his cock twitching inside her. “God, Ava, yes. Anything. Your fantasy… it’s *my* fantasy. I’ve… I’ve thought of it all.”
His confession sent a fresh bolt of lust straight through her core. “Then take your reward,” she commanded, her pace becoming frantic, sloppy, and deeply intimate. She could feel her own climax coiling, a tight, hot spring about to snap. “Cum for me. Now. Fill me up. Let me feel it.”
That was all the permission he needed. With a guttural, shattered roar against the gag, his body went rigid beneath her. His cock pulsed violently inside her, a hot, insistent flood that triggered her own release. She clenched around him, a bright, white-hot wave crashing over her, milking him through every last spasm as she cried out his name, her body shuddering with the force of it.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Slowly, tenderly, she reached up and loosened the ball gag, letting it fall away. She untied the blindfold next. His brown eyes, glazed and full of adoration, met her green ones.
He swallowed, his voice hoarse. “It’s always you,” he whispered, his gaze locked on hers. “In every fantasy, in every thought… it’s always your face, your voice, your touch.”
Her heart swelled. She carefully undid the leather cuffs, kissing each wrist as she freed it. She curled into his side, her head on his shoulder, their skin damp and cooling. “It’s always you, too,” she murmured, tracing patterns on his chest. “My clever, wicked, perfect husband.” She tilted her head up, a playful smile on her lips. “So… maybe we try a longer scene next weekend? A whole afternoon to ourselves?”
He laughed, a low, happy sound, and pulled her closer. “I’ll clear my schedule.”