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She switches on the lights and he closes the door behind her. She cannot stop thinking about that wonderful gala event. The electricity in the air, the whirlpool of colours, the sparkles. Wow. They had already been to many impressive charity galas, but this one at the Met was quite something.
Such contrast with the quietness of their flat. With the stillness of the Manhattan skyline in the night.
She could never grow tired of the serenity of this view. She simply loved it. Her husband had dimmed the lights down so she could better enjoy the scenery from inside. No reflection on the window wall.
*“Honey, are you coming?”*
He wraps his arms around her from behind. A bit of warmth and privacy after the excitation of the public evening.
He is holding her tight. Really tight. She can feel his breath in her hair.
He lowers his right hand between her legs, and grabs her there.
Her heart skips a beat.
His hand is firm. She can feel each of his fingers even through the fabric of her evening dress.
He brings her to the sofa, half carrying her. Instead of turning around so she can sit on his lap and cuddle, he puts her against the armrest.
She was not expecting that. At all.
He removes his inquisitive hand and starts leaning onto her. The armrest is pressing against her lower stomach. He wraps her waist with both arms and forces her down onto the sofa, facing down. His male body rests heavily on her back.
Still lying on her, he runs his hand through her hair and gently kisses her neck.
She feels the excitation growing in her mind.
Her breathing gets deeper despite his weight pinning her down.
She starts wondering what is coming up next. After 15 years of marriage, building their life and working together to slowly reach the very, she trusts him fully… but this is new.
Not unpleasant, but new.
Quite exciting actually. She can feel his breath accelerating as well, like deep waves pressing down her chest.
After another sensual kiss on her neck, he puts his left hand on the side of her face. She feels the pressure increasing as her face gets crushed into the sofa.
A bit disorientated, she understands that he just straightened himself up. He simply used *her head* as support.
She feels a bit upset.
Before the emotion takes hold of her mind, she feels something else happening: still pinning her face down into their sofa, he is unzipping her dress.
His crotch is pushing against her lifted butt, driving her thighs into the sofa.
Ok, she sees where this is going.
She feels the zipper slowly gliding down her spine, up to her bum. A light draft comes flattering her naked back. It sends shivers down her loin as the perspiration on her delicate skin dries out.
She is not wearing a bra – she is glad about that.
She could feel powerful men’s desire during the reception: they kept discretely peaking at her nipples, subtly revealed by the silky fabric of her red dress.
But now it also meant that she could enjoy the uninterrupted sliding of her husband’s hands along her spine. An unparalleled sensation.
His sensual strokes on her naked back…
Her head being crushed against the rough sofa fabric…
The contrast is exhilarating!
Nothing happens for a few breaths.
She feels a bit weird lying on her stomach, her face and breast against the fabric, her long legs standing perfectly vertical against the armrest, her butt exposed like a trophy.
Just when she decides to try and see what is happening, she starts hearing a cello playing.
Bach’s sonatas – her favourite.
*He sure knows how to set up the mood.*
The sound is warm and rich.
The skyline outside, dark and cold.
His hand, caressing slowly the naked skin of her back feels soft and strong at the same time.
Soft and strong. Like the way he presses her face into the pillows.
Soft and strong, like the way he pulls her thong under her dress and makes it slide down her pale thighs, down her tapering legs, down to the high-heeled Louboutin shoes on her feet.
Soft and strong, like the sound of his belt unfastening and his trousers dropping on the floor.
Like the warmth flowing through her groin.
Like the…
*“CRRRAAAAACK”*
*What was that sound?*
*My dress?*
*Did he just ruin my dress?!?*
She tries to turn around to see and make him pay for this, but she feels her face getting smashed into the sofa.
She fights back.
He pins her down.
Her heart is pounding.
She stops fighting for a second to catch her breath and to decide what to yell at him.
Butterflies in her stomach.
He just penetrated her.
Deeply.
Powerfully.
*Permanently.*
He stays still.
She stays still as well: she can’t move, neither physically nor mentally.
All she can feel is his erection, pulsating inside of her.
All her sensations revolve around his warm manhood that pierces her like a giant nail.
Like the most important bone in her body.
This throbbing piece of him in her… fills her whole mind, her whole reality.
If he pulled out right now, the emptiness would be devastating.
…
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Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lsb6d8/domination_anal_rape_fantasy_posh_submissive_wife