by Trent Evans
She tried to move something, anything. All she could muster was the continuous, frenetic writhing of her fingers, the curling of her toes. His fingers played through the swollen labia, gathering the moisture there, a desultory, teasing play of fingertips across her achingly hard clit.
Then she felt the cold slipperiness against her asshole. She stiffened, the wood of the bench groaning.
He can’t be. Oh God, he can’t be doing this.
His fingers spread her cheeks wide, and she was mortified anew at the view he was no doubt enjoying. The heels of his hands pressed her wider still, as if he would split her bottom in half, the stretching at her cleft almost uncomfortable. His thick finger liberally coated in cool gel, eased against her bottom hole, insistent but gentle.
“Just try to relax. We’ll go slowly. You need to be stretched first.”
“Troy, I don’t know—”
“It’s not up to you. Unless you’re giving me the word, this is happening.” His voice lowered. “Are you?”
“No, it’s just… I don’t think I can.”
His hand smacked her bottom lightly, leaving a slick of gel on a stinging cheek. “You can, and you will. I’ll help you through it, Lace. But before this night is over, you’re going to have my cock in your ass. Now be a good girl and cooperate.”
She nodded her head. “Yes, Sir. I’m scared.”
“I know, Lacey.”
She whimpered as he slathered more cold gel into her cleft, swirling it upon the tender entrance to her ass. His finger pressed against her once more.” Let me in, girl.”
Lacey grunted, his finger a rhythmic pressure at her ass, increasing then lessening as he worked her. He lubricated again, the tip of his finger back at her, stroking her bottom hole, coaxing, relaxing. “Push out now”
“What do you mean?”
“Watch yourself, Lace.” The tip of his finger insinuated itself into her bottom hole, and she clamped down upon it. “No, don’t clench. Bear down, like you’re going to the bathroom.”
“What?”
His big hand slapped her ass again, her flesh wobbling. “Just do it. You have to let me in. Bear down, now.”
She whined, the feeling of pushing out seeming so wrong, her need to obey her husband seeming so right.
“That’s it! Good girl.” She warmed at his praise, even as he pushed his finger deeper, awakening uncomfortable sensation within her ass. Her tight hole burned, stretched around his thick digit, and she panted at the pain.
“There we go. Keep pushing, girl. This is just my finger — my cock is a lot bigger than this.” He pressed his lips to her ass cheek, his kiss soft, almost reverent. She concentrated on loosening everything. The pain was there, but if she unclenched, stopped fighting, it lessened. Her empty pussy ached, bereft, her hard clit thrumming.
His hand drifted fingertips between the lips of her pussy, collecting the moisture, wiping it in lazy circles around her clit. “I guess I shouldn’t have worried about you being too scared,” he murmured, rich pleasure in his voice. She sighed as he frictioned her hard clit more intently, tweaking the sensitive flesh.
She let out a long whine as he pressed into her again, working his big finger in and out, thrusting with more authority. He pressed it as deep as it would go, his hard knuckles against the inner curves of her ass cheeks, the strange sensation of his fingertip wiggling within her, seemingly at the very core of her being. He recharged his finger several times with the cold gel, penetrating her anew, until she’d relaxed enough that each entrance was relatively easy, if still uncomfortable.
“I think we’re ready,” he said, wiping his finger on the back of her thigh, awakening the pain of the marks there once more. His palm patted the plump, smooth lips of her pussy. “I was only going to do this one time as part of your punishment.” He thrust two thick fingers deep into her pussy, thrusting roughly for a few seconds. “Judging by this dripping cunt of yours though, we may need to make this a regular feature, Lacey-girl.”
“No! Please Troy, no.”
The uncoiling deep in her belly gave lie to her words.
“It’s not up to you, girl.” He leaned over, brushing his lips against her cheek, nudging the cloth of her blindfold. “Lets see how you do tonight, hmm?”
His hands took firm hold of her hips, squeezing her flesh in his possessive grip. The heavy cock eased up and down between her trembling cheeks, pausing to circle the cold slipperiness onto her cringing asshole. Her heart pounded in her chest, every muscle in her body tensing. They’d talked about trying it a few times, but it hadn’t been anything serious. She never thought he was particularly interested in taking her there, and she’d never really entertained the idea. She was a comparatively slight woman — and he was a big man. She wasn’t sure it would even be physically possible.
He pressed the broad head against her bottom hole, and she yelped. Oh, he was serious after all.
Oh fuck! Oh fuck!
She clenched against him, running on pure instinct now. She would fight him every step of the way, even though she knew it would make it worse.
He continued the pressure, easing back a tiny bit, only to press forward once more, his cock never leaving contact with her anus. His fingers wiped more cool gel around her ass, over his cock. She knew she couldn’t do it. She wanted him to reassure her, tell her he was just playing around. She hoped he’d relent, and slip inside her empty pussy instead. But it was not to be.
He was relentless, easing back and forth, pressed relentlessly against her ass. “Relax your bottom, Lacey. Come on now.” Every time her cheeks squeezed around the big head of his cock, he smacked her ass, growling at her. She tried to relax, hoping he would relent, but still he kept at her.
Then he stroked her, gently, solicitously, as if she were a fractious animal in need of calming. She jerked against her straps once more and his palm came down hard on her ass, fire flaring across her flesh as she bit down on a scream.
It was just enough of a distraction, and his cock slipped in, just through the entrance. He felt huge, and it hurt as she expected, but what surprised her most was the uncomfortable fullness. He stroked her hips, patting her sore bottom, and eased his hips further forward.
She grunted, her teeth locked over her bottom lip. Now it really hurt; a stretching burn along with a disturbing undercurrent of the forbidden sensation of his big cock stimulating the tissues inside her ass. The feeling was alien, yet all too intimately familiar. The tight ring of her anus stretched taut over his thick shaft as he eased deeper, his hands stroking her back and hips so gently. Then with a pleased sigh he was seated fully.
She shook like a landed fish, her core frozen, and feeling staked upon Troy’s thick cock. She jerked her hips once, the burn flaring as she reflexively clenched down upon him, crying out at the pain. His groan was unexpectedly welcome. She wanted to hear him, even if it was just to scold her, tell her what a bad girl she’d been. Anything was better than his cold silence. His hand was at her clit again, rubbing it in harsh circles as he pulled nearly all of the way out of her. He squeezed her aching clit as he eased forward once more, driving deep. She gave a ragged, high-pitched moan as he filled her fully once more.
The tears flowed freely as the burn intensified at his thrusting. He built her up to a steady, deep plunge and retreat, the helplessness of being tied immobile as he drove within her nearly making her scream.
He slipped two fingers deep into her slit as he thrust hard again, and she cried out once more — the forbidden on top of the exquisite. He alternated fingering her drowning, lonely pussy with deft flicks and strokes to her swollen clit. All the while, his heavy cock reamed her, the burn giving way to the steady, confusing sensation of needing to empty her bowels. It disturbed her greatly to have such a familiar sensation warring with the soaring, forbidden pleasure.
“Troy, please!” she panted as his hips smacked her sore buttocks, his cock driving deep.
“Just relax, girl. Nothing you can do about t
his anyway. Make it easy on yourself and relax now.” His voice held a rich note of immense satisfaction.
Harder, harder he fucked her, his hands clamping on to her hips, using the leverage to drive further, mount her like a male beast.
“Ah fuck, Lace,” he groaned. “Coming!”
His fingers crushed her clit between their hard tips. She screamed as the flash of pain pulled her over, the pleasure/agony of her exploding clit melding with the sinking, dark pleasure of his long, thick cock relentlessly pounding into her sore, stretched ass. He yelled out, fingers digging painfully into her hips, his cock spasming deep within her. She felt the hot spray fill her bowels and she clenched down on him, inflaming the abraded nerve endings of her hard-used ass as she squeezed the last of his seed from his cock.
She moaned, blowing out great gusts of breath as he slowed. He braced himself with twin handfuls of caned, burning buttock flesh, his breathing harsh, ragged. He pressed a firm kiss to the nape of her neck. “You’re forgiven, Lacey.”
Lacey burst into tears. Finally, the words she’d ached for. Her punishment was over. He left her bound on the bench, lost in the darkness of her pain and exhaustion. Most of all she was lost in the confusion of her mind. She’d just been sodomized by her loving husband — and she’d come like a wanton slut.
New horizons, indeed.
He was back at her side, softly molding a warm, wet washcloth to her cleft. She sighed as he cleaned her, his fingers twining with hers gently as he eased her punished buttocks apart to press the cloth against her aching bottom hole. She could feel him wipe away the slickness from her cleft. Within moments it was all off of her, the straps, the cuffs, the collar, and it was just Lacey, held in the hard, muscular arms of her Troy.
He set her down on the bed, easing her over onto her side to avoid irritating the inflamed tissues. He kissed the hair at her forehead. “Be right back.”
She thought she heard the sounds of running water, but her mind was flying, lost in that foggy mixture of elation, pleasure, and exhaustion that always followed a punishment. She made a soft sound as his arms gathered her up, his hard biceps flexing against her legs, his strength enveloping her.
“This might sting a little, Lace.” She moaned, tensing for a moment as he lowered her into the steaming water. Lacey sighed deeply, feeling the warmth of the bath seep into her bones. The water made her marks throb and ache, but it didn’t matter as long as he was with her, taking care of her. He undid the ponytail, letting her hair fall heavy over her shoulders, the ends floating in the scented water. The blindfold fell away from her eyes, and she blinked against the light of the candles scattered around the dim bathroom.
“Troy, I need… “ She reached for him, her eyes heavy. Despite her exhaustion, her breath caught as she watched him climb into the tub, the thick cock, partially erect, swinging between heavily muscled thighs. He slid in behind her, cradling her between his legs and pulling her back against his powerful chest. She murmured as his hands stroked her, caressing her cheek, holding his fingertips to her lips so she could kiss them.
Lacey sighed as his hands gathered up the weight of her breasts, squeezing them gently, his fingers tweaking the hard tips. “You were such a good girl. Very brave.” He kissed her temple, his hands continuing to stroke her breasts. She thought she could die this way, simply pass over to the other side in this pure bliss. Wrapped in his arms, in his love.
Troy squeezed her breasts tighter, and she felt him hardening against her ass. She twisted her head back, her lips seeking him. His lips brushed hers, playing, tasting her. She kissed him harder, her tongue darting, twining with his, his breath one with hers.
He patted her cheek, his fingers brushing strands of hair from her eyes. “Later, little girl. You need your hair washed.”
Lacey leaned back against him once more, her hands playing over the bones of his knees, her nails scratching gently through the dark hair on his wet thighs. He washed her hair slowly, taking care to work all the tangles from her long tresses. His hands massaged her wet scalp, the sensation so heavenly, she nearly drifted off to sleep. By the time he’d finished lovingly soaping every inch of her skin, the heat within her pussy had fired to life once more. She wanted him, badly, but she was so tired, even her passion had to give way to sleep. For now.
He laid her on the cool sheets of their bed, her body still wrapped in a huge, soft towel. She blinked slowly, barely able to keep her eyes open, and smiled at her husband. “Come here.”
Troy stretched his naked, magnificent body beside her, opening her towel, baring her flesh to his gaze, to his wandering hands. She nestled her body against him, her leg curling over his thigh, his hot length of his cock twitching against the coolness of her hip.
“You could have… warned me,” she mumbled against him.
He flashed a mischievous grin. “What’s the fun in that? Sleep now, girl.”
She rested her cheek on his well-muscled chest, and he stroked the hair away from her temple. She drew in a deep shuddering breath, willing the tension to leave her body as she exhaled.
Now, Lacey. You’ve waited too long as it is.
“What is it, girl?” He stared up at the ceiling. She stroked a finger along the strong tendons at the base of his neck.
“I didn’t tell you the whole truth, Troy.”
“Oh?” He pulled her tighter, looking down at her.
“No — I didn’t start.”
He was silent, his body very, very still. “Start what, Lacey?”
She gulped at the steel in his voice. She was in trouble, but there was nothing for it. They had to talk about this. “I never started my period. I’m late.”
He looked down at her once more, his eyes narrowed, jaw clenching. He looked back at the ceiling, tension thrumming through the strong body she lay upon. Then his eyes met hers, and she felt such a surge of relief, of joy, that tears welled in her eyes once more.
“Well, this deserves a punishment, I should think. Lying is not allowed, you know.” His mouth curved into that devious smile — the one that came out when another idea had come to him. “It will depend though.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek, pressing her soft lips to his chest. “On what?”
“On the results of your test, of course.”
She lifted her head. “Wh—what?”
“You’re taking a test tomorrow morning. If it’s negative, you’re getting the spanking of your life.”
Her eyes went wide. “And if it’s positive?”
He grinned. “Then we’ll search for a kink friendly OB so I can ask them how much spanking is safe for a pregnant woman.”
# # #
Book II
Maintenance Week
Trent Evans
Prologue
Waiting and dreading her impending discipline was bad enough. The fact that she was made to don the vaguely penitential “uniform” of the staid, drab smock made things even worse. To her, it seemed little more than a starched brown sack.
It galled her still that the discomfort of wearing such a dress was very much intentional.
She sat in the usual spot, on the varnished bench in the hallway outside the study, waiting for her appointment with shame and pain — and reluctant, embarrassing arousal. The slate gray tile under her plain low heels radiated a coolness that should have had her shivering, but her strange, ritualized dress, made from a heavy cloth with its unfashionably high neck, ensured trickles of nervous sweat meandered between her breasts, tickling the crease between sex and inner thigh. The scratchy fabric was made more so by the fact she was not permitted a stitch of underwear underneath. No women summoned for their periodic appointments with pain were allowed any underthings — unless such an accommodation was to feature prominently in her adjudicated correction.
The men who attended — and passed judgment — at the Accountings were ever inventive, as clever and diabolical as they were strict, taking pleasure in the ritual that was borderline sadistic.
“Provisional member” was what she still was, despite the fact she was anything but a new face at the neighborhood accountings. The shaming title — a concrete reminder that though she’d been welcomed into White Valley, she still wasn’t yet a full-fledged resident — rung in her head repeatedly.
Just because she wasn’t technically yet an official resident didn’t save her from being disciplined like one. Her naked buttocks twitched, knowing what they were in for in but a few short minutes.
She listened to the faint sounds coming through the heavy polished wood of the study door, closing her eyes at the frightful — yet arousing — imagery the sounds evoked within her.
Was that a woman? It sounded like... sobbing.
A loud thump made her jump, then a deep male voice rang out. It sounded authoritative, maybe even angry, but at the same time it was frustratingly muted, preventing her from making out any discernable words.
The hallway she sat in was so silent, almost funereal, her only company the chill-inducing song of feminine anguish and mortification coming from the other side of that door.
Her husband would be inside with them now, his eagerness to take her in hand every bit as intense as the twisted war of anxiety, lust, and fear of the unknown raging inside her.
If she had an ounce of sanity, she’d march from this house. Flee this strange, yet impossibly alluring town. Her hands were still cuffed, yes, but they were bound before her, not behind. Nothing stopped her from walking out the front door and simply getting the fuck outta Dodge.