Chapter Text
“Mm, fuck. C’mon, that’s it, that’s it!”
Benny had been getting better at taking her husband’s cock—she shed her tears silently, as all good wives do. It wasn’t easy to breathe when she hid her face in the pillow, but it muffled any cries she couldn’t control, and Thomas never liked looking at her when they had sex, anyway. There was a heavy strain on her neck as he thrust his painfully thick cock into her raised hips, grabbing bruised skin to keep her in place. He was a strong man in a lot of different ways, and his body was one of them.
“Ah, fuck!” he moaned, and Benny tried not to cringe as he shot hot cum up inside her, fisting the pillow she whined into. He slapped a thick, sweaty hand against her rear with one last grunt, making her squeak and tremble. “Yeah, there you go, Ben-Ben.” His hands rubbed her butt and her hips, making her tense.
She hated being called that, but Thomas only ever said that when he was pleased with her. Bending over, he gently brushed her hair to the side and nuzzled into her neck. It made her chest ache hearing him faintly groan against her skin, giving her little kisses here and there. Benny turned her head to the side, breathing in the cool air with her eyes closed, trying to enjoy whatever she could.
“Quick learner, aren’t you?” Her husband smiled, licking her cheek. A small, involuntary hum left her throat from the subtle praise. He quietly chuckled, leaving her feeling a bit better—until he blindly shoved his hand under her, feeling for her chest. Benny quickly hid her face in the pillow and lifted from the mattress, letting him find her breast with ease. She prayed he didn’t hear the whine she made.
“God, you youngins really do keep nice tits, don’t you?” He spoke so casually as he kneaded sensitive flesh. Benny felt hot all over. Thomas squeezed until she accidentally yelped and then smacked his hand against her breast.
“Thomas…” she shyly whined, making him laugh at her.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
And in an instant, her husband sat up all the way and quickly pulled out. Benny winced but was good about hiding it. He grumbled something she couldn’t hear very well, and then felt him crawl off the bed. She collapsed into the mattress with a horrible ache between her legs. As much as she wanted to also leave and shower, Thomas didn’t like it when she moved around too much with his cum in her. They had only been married for three months, but he was getting more frustrated every time she got her period.
Benny stuck her arms under the pillow and turned to look out the window. From this angle, she couldn’t see any of the city lights, just fluffy snowflakes drifting carelessly through the air. It was easy to pretend she was still at the academy. She flipped over to look at the bed instead. That was no longer a daydream of hers to have.
“Alright, I’ll be back sometime next week.”
Benny’s eyes shot open, and she frantically sat up to see her husband walking towards the bedroom door. He was all dressed up to go to work. His clothes were all custom and handmade from a studio in France, and she embarrassingly could never pronounce it correctly. But his suit fit him perfectly—black pants with a classic white button up that he adorned with a sharp, light blue tie. For whatever reason, she liked the way he looked when he draped his jacket over his arm, drawing attention to the thick silver watch he always wore.
“Oh, where are…?”
He looked over his shoulder and smirked. She felt confused just moments before her face burned bright red and she snatched up to the covers over her chest, shrinking in on herself. It was humiliating, but he wore a genuine smile, so it was okay. Thomas walked closer to the foot of the bed. Benny could smell his cologne—not too strong, but distinct enough that all she could do was picture his face when she smelled it.
“Come.” Her husband snapped his fingers and pointed to the edge of the bed where he stood. Benny reluctantly complied, blushing terribly as she crawled over, completely nude. He sighed. “Such a shy one.”
She felt even worse knowing that she wasn’t as confident as he wanted her to be, but she didn’t know how to be. His finger hooked under her chin, forcing her to meet those dark brown eyes of his. Benny was lucky to be married to such a handsome man—sharp jaw, clean shaven, broad shoulders, big and intimidating. He didn’t have abs or anything too defined, but he was masculine in every way he could be. It was unreasonable to feel uncomfortable when he touched her.
“It’s just a week, Benny,” he reminded her. “But you know how it is.”
She nodded. His business trips were a bit unpredictable, and it was hard to guess when they’d be done. What he did and where he went wasn’t something for her to concern herself with. Her husband said he’d be back next week, and that was all she needed to know because that was all he told her.
“Good,” he weakly praised her obedience. Benny watched him turn around and shut the door behind him. Before she could think too much, she got up to shower.
Hot water that would leave her skin red and tender beat down against her back, steaming up the entire bathroom. She had her forehead pressed against the white marble wall with her hand between her legs, the other pinching her nipple. It was difficult to find any pleasure in her husband’s cock, and their late nights always left her unsettled and frustrated. The water made it harder to cum, but by then she was already worked up enough that it didn’t matter—usually.
Benny rubbed circles against her sensitive folds, making her whimper. She felt desperate not to think about it. Not to think about him. But his dark green eyes were charming, he had big hands, thick thighs—yes, she had seen between them. It was like he never wore any underwear when he had sweatpants on, teasing her with just the idea of his manhood, what it looked like, what it could do.
“Mmm, please, please,” Benny whined and begged to absolutely no one. She sped up, needing that sick release, but all it did was hurt. With a bit of a sob, she stopped. It was exhausting to breathe, and the scalding hot water was making her dizzy. She turned to shut the water off, wincing when it rained down on her face.
Benny felt a bit disgusting as she wandered into their closet, looking for a day dress to wear. Thomas had called it a closet, but it was more like a room that they kept their clothes in. His side was fully stocked with his suits, all perfectly lined up and organized. There was a section for just his shoes, though he didn’t have too many pairs—only three, and he was wearing the fourth. His watches were displayed in a small glass cabinet in front of a grand, golden mirror. His ties and everything else were hidden in the copious amounts of drawers that lined the wall.
Her side of the closet was just as full, but most of it was never used. There were plenty of shoes and dresses and blouses and jackets and skirts and everything else she could possibly think of. In the center of the room was where all the jewelry was kept, not unlike Thomas’s glass case for his watches. But Benny didn’t deserve these nice things, even as much as she wanted to look presentable for her husband.
Good wives didn’t touch themselves like that. Good wives didn’t think about someone other than their husband as they came—or tried to. She never really left the house anyway, but it was good to keep a routine and get dressed every day. So, she searched for a simple day dress to wear. Something easy, something more appropriate for her.
The full-length mirror showed a rather petite girl in a light, flowy yellow dress. It didn’t show much off, only kind of hugging her waist, just barely above her knees. Taking a step forward, the mirror showed a nervous girl, somehow afraid of herself. She had basic brown hair, medium length, layered bangs that fell just before her eyebrows and framed her face, and basic brown eyes. Her nose was small, and her lips weren’t that thin. At one point, Thomas had even said she was cute.
Benny was fine, and yet, despite being home alone with no intention of leaving, she put on mascara. It helped a little and she walked out of the bathroom a bit fragile.
The penthouse was eerily quiet as Benny stepped out into the hallway. To her right was the solarium—a nice, quiet hiding spot. And to her left was the rest of the house. Only she and Thomas lived here, but there were three floors that held six extra bedrooms, five and a half baths, a few sitting areas, a dining room, and two kitchens. The first floor was just for show, and she rarely even went down there. The third floor was mostly just the master's quarters and solarium.
Walking downstairs, she still couldn’t hear any house staff.
Benny liked the living room on the second floor. The ceiling was open, leaving the curtain windows twice as high as they were wide, revealing a multi million-dollar view of New York City's skyline. Everything was minimal, and denser than most mansions. A huge, beige square rug took up most of the floor, sitting below a large sectional sofa, coffee table, and a few chairs. And aside from a few bookshelves lined up against the wall and some end tables, that was mostly it.
She wasn’t overly fond of the stiff, modern furniture—especially as everything was white, making her worry about stains. But Thomas had bought her a little recliner for the corner of the room, nestled between the window and the fireplace. It had a small side table and lamp, and when she was home alone like this she read there.
And that was what she had intended to do, at least.
Instead, Benny stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring like an idiot at her stepson sitting in her chair, reading her book. His golden tan skin seemed to glow in the natural morning light, effortlessly relaxing into the soft, brown fabric. Without meaning to, her eyes fell to his hands; they made the book seem like a small toy, but he was still able to turn the page so smoothly. His soft dark curls were partially tied up—something impossible for her husband’s graying and thinning hair. What a horrible, sick wife she was.
Shivering, Benny retreated upstairs.
“Morning, Mama.”
Charles’s deep, rough voice stopped her dead in her tracks—so sultry, so masculine. It would be rude to just ignore him, but she didn't want to spend another second looking at him.
“Good morning,” she managed to reply over her shoulder. With the hope that that was good enough, she grabbed the railing to pull her weakening legs up the stairs.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said lightly. “Were you hoping to sit here?”
Well… yes, but Benny had started to feel a bit like prey. “N-no, that's okay,” she lied with a nervous smile.
“Are you sure?”
She nearly gasped hearing that voice of his right behind her. Her heart raced seeing his hand grip the railing past hers, caging her inside the heat from his body.
“There's room for two, you know,” he quietly teased too close to her neck.
“That’s okay!” she squeaked out and bolted upstairs.
Thomas didn’t mention anything about his son visiting. Charles had just started his second semester at MIT, so he normally didn’t come back on a whim. No matter the reason though, he was always welcome, of course. Benny did feel bad about her manners; he’s technically family—and supposedly her son. It wasn’t exactly a dream of hers to have kids, but it was what good wives do. Even so, she hadn’t wanted one only four years younger than her!
Benny made a quick escape into the solarium. It was a smaller room—compared to the rest of the place—and it wasn’t really styled all that much. There were a few indoor plants; some just small flowerpots, others stood taller than her with leaves bigger than her head. She didn’t know much about them, though. Normally, the house staff took care of them; they knew how much water they needed and when.
But none of them were here. Had Charles dismissed them? Why? Well, he never stayed more than a day or two here (she wasn’t all too sure where he spent the rest of his time, but it was none of her business). The plants should be fine…
It probably wasn’t hidden at all, but Benny liked to pretend no one knew about the cheesy erotic novels she kept hidden behind the loveseat off to the side of everything else. At the very least, the book she had laid out in the living room wasn’t one of them. Still, she really had no idea why he’d be interested in them—but he had a certain fondness of teasing her. That was probably what that was. It made Benny uncomfortable, but it was harmless, so she didn’t mention it to Thomas or even tell Charles to stop. She focused on curling up under a throw blanket—despite the room being too warm—and began reading.
Emily could feel Derek’s eyes on her from across the ballroom, like he was hunting her, like—
“Mama.”
Benny practically jumped out of her own body, subsequently tossing the book onto the floor. With a pounding heart, she twisted in her seat to see Charles casually leaning off to the side of the entrance to the solarium. He wore a concerning grin that only grew further when his eyes fell to the ground, noticing all too well the stupidly buff, shirtless man on the cover with a frail woman half his size clinging to him.
“Oh, i-it’s fine—” she tried to cut in, but he had already started to make his way over. She shrunk in on herself, staring into her lap. He wore just a basic black t-shirt… and gray sweatpants. Thomas really only ever wore suits; it seemed so intimate to see him in casual, comfortable clothes.
“Did you drop this?” Charles pretended to ask.
Benny reluctantly raised her gaze to see him stopped in front of her book, but he wasn’t looking at it—he was looking at her. It was too easy to see those vibrant green eyes in the sun like this; as mischievous as they were, they were also calm and soft. Once he had her attention, he bent over to pick up the novel that had her cheeks bright red. Immediately, she turned her head, embarrassingly afraid to look at that cute butt of his. Awful, horrible wife.
Out of the corner of her eye, Benny could see her stepson crouched down behind the arm of the sofa, holding out the book for her to take. “Uh, thank you…” she quietly said, blindly reaching to take it out of his hands. She flinched when her fingers grazed his, and then she heard a light chuckle.
“Mama,” he drawled with a smile she could feel.
Benny didn’t like being called this either.
“Yes?” she hesitantly replied, still not looking at him.
“I’m hungry.”
“Oh, um… there should be some stuff in the… uh, fridge.” Benny wasn’t entirely sure, to be honest.
“I dunno how to cook. Can you make me something?” her stepson pleaded with puppy dog eyes she wished she hadn’t see. He even had his chin resting on the arm of the sofa and everything. No, she had already been too much of a bad wife to turn him down.
“Sure, of course,” she nervously smiled somewhat in his direction. “What did you want to eat?”
Charles’s face bloomed with a bright smile, and Benny wondered what she just got herself into.
Everything felt hot with him crowding around her the entire time. He followed just a step behind her as she made her way downstairs to their “mess” kitchen—the one they actually used, not the one they displayed on the first floor right below them. There was no actual mess, and it was still larger than most kitchens families use. The house staff kind of made it impossible for anything to stay unorganized or dirty.
It was even more embarrassing knowing he was watching her every move. Benny’s worst class at the academy was cuisine, but they mostly let it slide because the families they’d be married off to always had personal chefs. She felt like an idiot pulling up a recipe for pancakes on the little tablet they kept on the counter. Resting her chin in the palm of her hand, she scrolled through some different options.
“I’m not picky,” Charles said too smoothly into her ear, setting his hands down on the counter, blocking her in. Her body went stiff.
“Oh, okay,” she mumbled, and just chose a random one. It was hard to read with him right behind her, looking over her shoulder. He wasn’t touching her, but any slight movement would change that. “You can wait in the living room,” she quietly suggested. “It’s fine.”
“Do you not want me here, Mama?” he pouted.
“What? No, uh… I mean,” she continued to dig herself into a hole. “It won’t take long, is all.” Benny made the mistake of shifting her body to look up at him. Her stepson was an entire head taller than her, making it easy for him to cover her completely—something that didn’t really mean anything, of course.
Charles had a look of amusement on his face, briefly biting his lower lip. With a beet red face, Benny turned around. Terrible wife.
“I’ll be good,” he told her in a gentle tone, bending his head down just next to hers. Her heart raced for awful reasons. “Can I stay, Mama?” he whispered so delicately, only to push her into the counter with his chest against her back.
“Charles,” she nearly whined, clutching the tablet so hard it hurt. “Just, back… back up,” she exhaled. Benny flinched when he pressed his hips forward. She wanted to cry—her stepson was hard, really hard against her butt. “Ah, please, please stop,” she squeaked out, bunching up her shoulders in an attempt to get so small she disappeared.
He set the sides of their heads together, letting her hear all too clearly the heavy breaths he took. This was maddening, and her frustration from this morning wasn't helping her at all. Calmly, he set the palm of his hand down on the side of her upper thigh.
“Charles, please,” she whined. “Stop.”
Benny tried for one second to move away, and then he squeezed her leg, letting her know she wasn't going anywhere. Not without his permission. It wasn't fair how easily he grabbed her, how relaxing it was to drown in his natural scent—so hot and sharp, but so warm and comforting. She trembled when he slowly rubbed his hand up and down, wrinkling the fabric of her dress. God, her dress was so thin!
Benny formed tears as his hand wandered and claimed her stomach. “Ah, st—” She was cut off from her own whining, feeling dizzy from how worked up her body was getting. Somehow, the worst part was his silence. Even his breathing stayed level and cool as he rubbed further, and further down.
“Wait!”
But it was too late. Even through her dress she knew he’d be able to tell how wet she was. She could feel the faint, low rumbling in his chest and quick twitch of his cock. In a panic, she arched her back in an attempt to evade his touch.
“Ah,” Charles winced as she inadvertently rubbed up against his erection. This only made it worse. With a grunt, he jerked his hips forward, getting her back in place and roughly touched her between her legs. His middle finger pressed down, threatening to break past her folds.
“Charles… p-please,” she cried, feeling an abhorrent amount of shame and excitement. He only continued stroking her cunt through damp fabric, speeding up. She could feel him panting right up against her head, somehow able to focus on her despite the horrible ache in his cock he must be feeling. But it was impossible not to feel him rub himself against her, no matter how faint.
Benny whimpered when she couldn't take it anymore and clamped down against his hand, shedding tears the whole time. In the mix of everything, he managed to put extra pressure down on her clit. She hated the kind of moan she let slip past her lips, hated the kinds of whines she made as she folded onto the counter. It was disgusting how she grabbed his hand, used him to get off – and she had no idea her body could even feel like this, didn't think it ever would.
Charles didn't stop when she came, leaving her squirming and pathetically whimpering under him, horribly overstimulated. When he finally decided she had had enough, he slowed his hand down. Benny was feeling things she didn't even understand. She didn't think trembling legs after an orgasm was even real, but she could barely support her own weight. Fear ran through her as he pushed his hips into her, and then she realized he was helping her from completely collapsing.
It was stupid how she didn't even want to take her hand off of his. They were so big and strong, warm and felt so fucking good. But she did, and she was quick to hide in her arms. Even now, Benny tried to cry silently, unbelievably out of breath. He moved to simply hold her hip with a light touch—and then he rubbed circles into her back with the other.
“Shh, it's okay, Benny,” a sweet whisper echoed in her mind. “You're okay.”
She couldn’t be sure if she had ever been told that before. And it was the last thing she could remember before she drifted far away.
Benny woke up in the recliner in the living room with a soft pink blanket draped over her. Ignoring how unsettled she felt, she curled into herself, trying to hide from reality itself. It was quickly interrupted when she jolted upright—the house staff were back. She couldn't catch her breath as she watched Andie casually rinsing dishes.
They were gone, right?
But Benny didn't see Charles anywhere. He could easily be on an entirely different floor, and she rushed upstairs before she could find out if he was ever there in the first place.