perfect ache (Duncan x fem!reader)
Anon request: Saying something sassy to older duncan, at which point he bends you over the nearest surface and spanks your 🐱 until you're begging and pleading for him to stop. He doesn't, telling you good girls don't beg, good girls take what the get. Are you gonna be a good girl? And then sticks his dick in you and just skewers you on his cock while telling you this is exactly why you shouldn't sass him bc only daddy can fill up your tight little pussy
A/N: Thanks to tumblr not allowing us to use a read more in asks anymore, I'm having to post this like this. It's not quite long enough to be an actual fic, but it is a bit longer than a drabble. It's complete smut; there's not even a trace of plot to be found here, which has like, never happened in the history of my fic writing.
Notes: Title from Hozier's "Arsonist's Lullabye." Gif credit goes to my beloved . 🖤
Warnings: Older!Duncan, dom!Duncan, age difference, rough sex, daddy kink, spanking, choking, degradation, oral sex (fem. receiving), cum eating.
Word count: 3.4k
//
By now, she can't even remember what it was that she had said to Duncan that had set him off.
All coherent thought had, in fact, faded long ago-her head was absolutely swimming, hazy with both pain and pleasure. The only thing she could focus on was Duncan's strong chest pressed up against her back, the scent of his cologne in her nose, the feeling of his hot breath ghosting across the side of her face, and his hands; one was pressed against her throat, holding her head pressed back against his shoulder, and the other was busy between her thighs.
"I said," Duncan grumbles into her ear, his voice low and steady (under normal circumstances, a tone like that would cause her stomach to knot in anticipation, but now it just causes goosebumps to rise up the back of her neck), "that I wanted you to count."
She swallows thickly, struggling to find her voice. "S-Sorry."
"Sorry, what?"
She pauses for a moment, and squeezes her eyes shut as she feels her cheeks heat with shame. "Sorry, daddy," she whispers.
"That's better."
Before she even has a moment to catch her breath, Duncan raises his hand and brings it back down onto her already stinging cunt, causing her to cry out and buck her hips against the edge of the table in front of her. "Five," she breathes shakily.
They had barely made it through the foyer tonight before Duncan had grabbed her and roughly shoved her back against said table, silencing her small gasp of pain with his mouth. "You," he had growled as he'd taken her bottom lip in between his teeth and given it a sharp tug, "were incredibly naughty tonight."
She'd blinked, her eyes wide and almost owlish as she'd raised a finger to her lip, swiping away an errant drop of blood. "What did I do?" she'd asked, and Duncan's gaze had only darkened as he'd spun her around, pressing her hips against the sharp edge of the table.
"Mouthing off to me," he'd growled as he'd reached down and hiked her dress up, letting the soft, expensive crimson red fabric pool around her hips as he'd worked her black satin panties down her thighs. "Making your little sassy comments. Do you think that shit is acceptable in front of my colleagues? In front of the people who work under me?"
Had she mouthed off to him? It was difficult to remember.
The Duncan Shepherd that she knew at home, the one who would laugh and tease and joke, was an entirely different Duncan Shepherd than the CEO who ran The Shepherd Foundation.
At home, he was relaxed. He was gentle. He was kind. He was attentive. He'd chuckle when she teased him about his glasses and the grey that was starting to pepper throughout his hair, and he'd effortlessly pick her up and carry her up the stairs to their bedroom when she'd chide him with a playful "old man" comment.
("Who's the old man now?" he'd say with a smirk as he'd toss her down onto their bed, where he'd keep her tied up for hours through orgasm after orgasm, until all she could do was weakly collapse on his chest, panting harshly as she struggled to catch her breath.)
But out in public, out at foundation functions, he was an entirely different man. Stern. Stubborn. Formal. All business. No nonsense.
(There were, of course, times when he'd take her by the hand and lead her off into an abandoned hallway when he needed a moment to breathe, a moment to just be-although these meetings usually ended up resulting in Duncan having his tongue down her throat or his fingers in her cunt or have her on his knees before him or her hand down the front of his expensive tailored pants.)
There was little room for joking around when Duncan was like that. Little room for small talk, or for their playful teasing. Little room for affection, outside of holding hands or dancing or the way they'd exchange small smiles or meet each other's gazes from across the room.
She'd, admittedly, had quite a bit of wine that night, but she couldn't remember doing anything that may have embarrassed him. Anything that would have set him off like this.
As she racks her brain, Duncan brings his palm down for another slap, and the cool metal of one of the rings on his finger collides directly with her clit, causing her to cry out at the sharp, sudden pain. "Jesus, fuck, Duncan-"
His hand tightens its grip around her throat, and she falls silent immediately. "Did I give you permission to speak?" he breathes, his hot breath ghosting along the shell of her ear.
She shivers in his grasp and subtly adjusts her position, trying to alleviate the throbbing, aching pain in her cunt. "No," she says, and before he can even comment on her mistake, she quickly amends it to: "no, daddy."
"And what number was that, princess?" he sneers, his formally calm and steady voice now oozing venom.
"Six," she murmurs, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels Duncan lift his hand once more.
It isn't as though they haven't gotten rough with each other before. Haven't experimented. From the time they had first gotten together, they were always looking for new things to try. New risks to take. Duncan has tied her up, Duncan has spanked her (though, granted, never quite like this), Duncan has choked her, Duncan has fucked her with a knife pressed against her throat; they've bitten each other and scratched each other and left each other bleeding, but they always left each other with happy, sated smiles on their face.
This is something entirely different.
She's no stranger to Duncan's punishments, of course, though those usually involve a bit of bondage and a blindfold and Duncan edging her until she cried, writing upon their bed as she'd begged and pleaded until she was hoarse for Duncan to let her cum.
Duncan's hand slams down against her cunt once more, and she musters a weak "seven" in response.
Whatever had gotten into Duncan tonight was something she had never seen before.
It was more than a little nerve wracking.
It was thrilling.
It was... arousing.
A fact which did not go unnoticed by Duncan as he lets out a soft chuckle, sliding his fingers through her slippery folds. "Well, well," he purrs. "Look at you. Soaking wet."
The heat in her cheeks only rises as she ducks her head, swallowing thickly against the place where his hand rests upon her throat. "You have your hand on my cunt," she snaps. "What the fuck do you expect?"
For the first time that night, Duncan lets out a genuine chuckle. "You really do have a mouth on you, don't you?"
He nuzzles the spot directly beneath her ear, laving his tongue over it before he gently sinks his teeth in, making her moan softly. "Keep counting for me, doll," he whispers, and she barely has enough time to steel herself before his hand smacks against her cunt again.
"E-Eight," she whimpers, unable to keep a tear from escaping the corner of her eye and rolling down her cheek.
(Nor is she unable to stop a fresh wave of wetness from seeping down onto Duncan's hand; Christ, what the fuck is wrong with her?)
She manages to make it through another three slaps before she's sobbing openly and unashamedly, gripping the edge of the table so hard that her knuckles have turned white. "D-Duncan," she pleads. "Please. No more."
The hand that Duncan had raised to spank her again falters, though he doesn't lower it. "Please?" he repeats, and she can hear the sneer in his voice. "Oh, no, pet," he continues, gently stroking his thumb over her pulse point; her blood is thundering beneath his touch, and her heartbeat begins to flutter wildly as he continues to caress the spot. "Good girls don't beg. Not like that. You want to be a good girl, don't you?"
Through her tears, she bares her teeth. "Fuck you, Duncan," she snarls.
He knows how much she hates that. How much she hates to be called a good girl. To be called his princess. His doll. His kitten. His angel. His baby. It all makes her blood boil ("so you'd rather be my bad girl, then?" he'd asked her on one of their first dates, quirking an eyebrow at her as she'd laughed and swirled her straw around in her drink), makes her seethe; he's older than her, of course, and by quite a few years, but she detests being treated like a little girl.
(In the quiet of their bedroom, when he'll pull her close and nuzzle her neck as he sleepily murmurs "I love you, babe", or when he'll be thrusting into her roughly from behind, his large, warm hands gripping her hips and his lips mouthing along her jaw as he grunts "fuck, pet, you're so good for me; that's what gets to her, that's what warms both her belly and her heart, and she knows that Duncan knows that.)
Duncan tsks. "Still haven't learned your lesson, I see."
She struggles against him, but Duncan merely tightens his hold on her throat, forcing her to go still.
"I suppose it's time we move onto something else, then."
Behind her, she can hear the unmistakable clink of Duncan's belt buckle, followed by the sound of his zipper being tugged down. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she hisses, and Duncan merely laughs.
"Good girls," he says with a small grunt as he frees his cock from his pants, "take what they're given, and they don't complain. And as much as I enjoy that feisty side of you, babe, I think you could do with a lesson or two on being a good girl. On behaving."
He stretches out the last word, enunciating each and every syllable, but before she can even have a chance to respond, he moves the hand that was resting on her thigh to her hip instead, gripping it tightly as he roughly thrusts into her, bottoming out in a single thrust.
Her mouth falls open in shock, but nothing comes out but a pained whine. Pain blooms throughout her already aching cunt at the stretch, at the feel of him, hard and pulsing inside of her, and she can do little more than whimper as Duncan pulls out and slams back in just as abruptly. Her hips snap against the edge of the table in front of her, and her sweaty palms scrabble to keep their hold as Duncan begins to really thrust into her.
"What do you think?" he growls, digging his nails into the skin beside her hip bone, leaving little crescent shaped marks behind. "Do you think you can learn to be a good girl now?"
"Fuck. You."
Duncan chuckles, low and breathy, as he continues to pound into her. "That's my girl."
"I am not your girl," she hisses, though her toes begin to curl within her shoes as Duncan angles her hips up higher, allowing for him brush against a spot inside her that makes her see stars.
Duncan stills for just a moment, before he shakes his head, lifting his hand off of her throat and using it to brush her hair off to the side. "You're right," he murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to her neck. "You're not my girl. You're my wife."
She breathes a small sigh of relief when whatever it was that had come over Duncan seems to dissipate, and she reaches behind her to settle her hand on the back of his neck. "Well don't stop now," she pants, doing her best to ignore the throbbing between her legs that sits somewhere on the edge between pain and pleasure.
(It's that delicious sort of ache, the only one that Duncan can bring; whether it's when he's being rough, or if it's when he's edging her, or if it's when he has her kneel beneath his desk and cockwarm him throughout the day until her throat and jaw are stiff and sore and her knees red and halfway to bruised, or if it's when he's teasing her at a dinner party, fingering her beneath the table and smirking to himself as he watches her try to maintain conversation.)
"Finish what you started," she says, and the words slip out a little more demanding than she had intended them to.
She can feel Duncan's lips curve into a smile against her skin as he picks up the pace, and she lets out a breathy moan as one of his hands trails its way up her body to begin massaging her breast through the flimsy fabric of her dress. "Babe," Duncan starts, but she digs her nails into the side of his neck, making him hiss in pain.
"Not now," she gasps. "We can talk later."
"Babe," Duncan says again, brushing his nose along her cheekbone. "Open your eyes for me."
She does, and though her eyes are red and still wet with tears, and though they're smudged with runny mascara, her gaze finds Duncan's in the glass, and she whimpers quietly at the sight of them, drawing her bottom lip in between her teeth as she watches him fuck into her.
"You're so beautiful," he breathes. "So gorgeous for me like this."
Hot, liquid fire courses throughout her body, and she clenches down around him, making Duncan groan. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groans. "So good around my cock. So tight. So wet."
"And you-fuck, Duncan." She inhales sharply as he removes his hand from her breast, sliding it down her sternum and her abdomen and then finally down to her clit, which he presses the pad of his finger against. "And you," she tries again, her voice coming out an octave higher than it had before, "feel so good inside me. Daddy."
Duncan's cock pulses inside her once again, and a low groan tears its way out of his chest. "Yeah? That so, baby girl?"
Now that the tension between them has passed, all she can do is quirk an eyebrow with a smirk. "See, this is what good girls get," Duncan breathes into her ear. "Good girls get their daddy's cocks inside them. Good girls who don't mouth off."
He presses the pad of his finger against her clit once more, moving it in small, circular motions, and she can feel her orgasm begin to build in her belly, sending heat flooding through her veins.
Duncan maintains eye contact with her in the mirror, occasionally sharing small, intimate smiles, and with the way that he's looking at her, with the way that he's thrusting into her (still a bit rough, still a bit too fast, but not enough that it's painful), with the way that his finger is toying with her clit, it doesn't take long for the coil that's built in her belly to finally burst, causing her to cum with a loud, hoarse cry of Duncan's name.
Her vision goes white and slightly fuzzy around the edges, but she can hear Duncan behind her ("fuck, oh fuck babe, fuck you feel so fucking good"), and she can feel him pick up his pace just slightly. The sound of skin slapping upon skin fills the air over Duncan's nonsensical babbling, and she can tell just how close he is.
Tilting her head back, she gently nips at his ear lobe and, in the sweetest voice she can muster, she whispers: "come for me, daddy."
And Duncan does.
He growls as snaps his hips forward one last time, slumping over her and sinking his teeth into the soft skin of her shoulder as his cock pulses, shooting his cum inside of her.
After taking a moment to catch his breath, Duncan pulls out and straightens up, reaching up with one hand to run a hair through his mussed hair and using the other to tuck himself back into his pants. As she straightens up as well, she can feel the mixture of their cum begin to dribble down her thighs, and she wrinkles her nose just slightly at the sensation.
"Do you mind telling me what that was all about?" she asks as she turns around to face Duncan, uncaring of the fact that her panties were dangling from one ankle and that her dress was still hiked up.
Duncan, to his credit, at least has the decency to look sheepish. "I was... acting irrational."
"Oh, were you?"
He narrows his eyes at her just slightly before continuing. "The men like to tease me about having a younger wife. They... they don't think that I'm good enough for you. That you deserve better." He sighs. "One of them overheard us while we were at the bar. When you thanked me for your drink, you called me daddy."
Her eyes go wide, and her face colors all over again. "Duncan, I am so-."
Duncan holds up a hand to stop her, and simply shakes his head. "Don't. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known."
Calling him daddy had been something of a private joke between the two of them since the time they had started dating. Duncan had tried to talk her out of getting involved with him in any way that he could, his age being the go-to excuse, but she had never listened.
Had refused to listen.
("I'm old enough to be your father," he had told her one night as they'd lounged on the couch, her feet stretched out across his lap.
"And?" she'd asked as she'd shifted around, moving so that she could straddle his lap instead. "What if I like daddies?"
He'd stared up at her with his mouth slightly agape, his blue eyes wide behind the frames of his glasses, and she'd simply smiled cheekily down at him. Later, much later, he had finally told her that that had been the moment where he was sure he was falling in love with her.)
"He gave me shit when you walked away," Duncan continues, settling his hand on her cheek and gently stroking it with his thumb, "and I was just so angry. Not at you," he amends quickly, "but at him. For taking something that was... ours and turning it into something so..."
"Shh," she breathes, reaching up to place her finger over his lips. "I get it."
Duncan presses a kiss to the pad of her finger. "I took it out on you, and I never should have done that. I apologize."
"I forgive you," she tells him honestly, replacing her finger with her lips instead. "Just... give me a little warning next time, will you? I'm going to be sore for days."
Duncan looks chagrined, and he sighs, reaching up beneath his glasses to rub his eyes. "Babe, I'm sorry. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?"
She says nothing, though she does raise her eyebrow in a pointed manner.
Duncan stares at her for a moment before he starts to laugh, lowering himself to his knees before her. "Well," he drawls as he wraps his fingers around her calf, raising her leg so that it's draped over his shoulder. "Yes ma'am."
"You have a lot to make up for, Mr. Shepherd," she teases as he begins to kiss his way up her stocking clad leg, pausing for just a moment to lick up a stray bit of cum that had trailed down her thigh and giving her garter belt a playful snap.
"I guess I better get to work then, shouldn't I?"
Duncan leans in, but hesitates at the last moment, causing her to let out a whine when she feels his hot breath ghost across her cunt. "Mrs. Shepherd," Duncan all but purrs, giving her a quick smirk before he leans in and licks a hot stripe up her cunt.
"Oh," she breathes, pressing her back against the table and reaching down to tangle one hand into his hair as Duncan begins to work his tongue between her folds, using it to circle her clit every so often.
"I think-fuck, right there, Duncan- I... I think you'll have it made it up to me in no time."
//
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