Lucifer Morningstar (
my_own_advocate) wrote2022-07-17 07:09 pm
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Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night
There were plans to open the club - finally - and plans to go to Austria for a few days to see an opera - exciting - and Octavia had been doing better recently, so... Lucifer was in a good mood, actually, when Sunday came around.
So yes, the candles were out again tonight. And a rather imposing spread of seafood, picked up from the mainland. With mango rice, of course.
It was Octavia. Couldn't do without the mango rice.
"How do you feel about the snapper?"
[[ for her ]]
So yes, the candles were out again tonight. And a rather imposing spread of seafood, picked up from the mainland. With mango rice, of course.
It was Octavia. Couldn't do without the mango rice.
"How do you feel about the snapper?"
[[ for her ]]
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(She'd earned it.)
His hands settled over her arse. He looked up at her dark hair, the line of her back, and gave one... experimental... swat.
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It... definitely felt a little different, through the fabric.
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The second was harder. More confident.
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"N-no."
That felt like a lie, because the specifics didn't really matter. She deserved punishment, forever.
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He brought his hand down firmly on the same cheek. Trying to get a bit of a bruise going, even if there were layers of cloth between them.
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Her teeth found her bottom lip to bite on.
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Another swat. As... inspiration.
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"Y-yes?"
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Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.
"'Cause I don't really deserve anything else." Her voice was... strained, again.
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He counted to three in the back of his head.
Then he struck her again. Over the other cheek, this time.
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Of course she'd been expecting the impact on the other side. Silly her.
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Swat.
"It shouldn't."
Swat.
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Actually, that thought didn't even feel worth finishing. Octavia's hands curled into fists. One half of her ass already felt warm and tingly and reddened, and his hand felt intent on making sure the other half would too, soon enough.
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The fabric shifting against her bruising skin under his hand forced a noise in her throat, though.
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His hand slipped from her arse.
And into the front of her trousers.
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Even her face flushing a little now as his hand slid down to all that evidence seemed to correspond directly with a little ache, a little twitch in her.
She pressed her face a little harder into the sheets.
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Then he wound them in her underwear and pulled it tight.
"Do you get off on that, darling?" Lucifer murmured. "Being punished?"
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She shifted in place a little to ease it, without a second thought.
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But not like she objected to his assessment. Wasn't that exactly how this worked? Wasn't that what she craved when she sank low like this?
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He leaned forward, and pressed his fingers against her lips.
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Octavia had felt his lean, but still startled when his fingers were there. With her scent. And her taste, if she'd only parted her lips --
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