Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  The rhythmic slapping sound came again. She knew exactly what that was. And she knew that very same fate was in her immediate future. It was the third time she’d heard it during her interminable wait in her own personal Purgatory. Her bottom crawled as she heard the faint pleading, the female cries. The clear note of a shriek sent a shiver down her spine, gooseflesh breaking out upon her naked forearms.

  Her pulse was frantic, her mouth as arid as a desert. Yet her nipples were so hard, she feared they’d be on prominent display, twin, impudent, shaming points tenting the front of the heavy starched fabric of the humiliatingly plain dress. Her pussy was a seething, slippery mess, her thighs sticking together. There was a very real prospect she’d be adding a mortifying dark wet spot to the back of the brown sack they’d forced her to wear for her latest Accounting. Would they note it? Would they comment on what a dirty whore she was for being so excited at the prospect of her punishment?

  Accounting.

  The term was so... formal. Sterile. Yet, she knew what awaited her in that study was anything but.

  Submission. Force. Humiliation. Pain. Surrender.

  Why did those thoughts make her clit throb when they’d have sent any normal woman screaming for the hills?

  The door in front of her opened, Von’s towering form filling her field of vision. His eyes glinted as he smiled down at her, extending a huge, veined hand.

  “Come with me, Mrs. Warren. We’re ready to hear your case now. Your husband is waiting for you.”

  Chapter 1

  Several months earlier

  The moment she pulled the car into her driveway, her stern husband standing on the front porch with his arms crossed over his chest, Lacey knew she was in trouble.

  He took hold of the car door as she opened it, his glare pinning her in place.

  “Wh-what?”

  She tried to remember if she’d forgotten anything. If she’d neglected to follow any orders or dictates Troy had given. He’d been quite easy on her post-pregnancy, for which she was supremely grateful. For while carrying Hayden had been almost a dream, he’d been anything but during the first four months of his life. Raising children was hard!

  “I think it’s time we talked about our arrangement, don’t you?”

  “I… I’m not sure I know what you mean?”

  Of course, it was a lie. She knew very well he was referring to their sexual dynamic. Lacey was a wife who’d gladly subjected herself to her husband — in all things.

  Maintenance Nights.

  Submission and discipline. Pleasure and pain.

  “Upstairs, now,” he growled, standing aside to let her exit the car. “You know how I want you dressed. I’ll be up in five minutes.”

  As if on reflex, she didn’t waste a single second protesting, fleeing through the front door and up the stairs.

  She knew that voice, the twitch of muscle at the corner of his jaw. She’d missed that cold glint in his eyes that never failed to make her belly do flip-flops, her nipples grow tight.

  He was back.

  Finally.

  Stripping off her clothes even as she climbed the carpeted risers, she leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb to the master bedroom, yanking off her low heels. Then she saw it.

  The pale, varnished plane of her paddle laying upon the bedspread, like a viper waiting in the grass.

  “Oh, my God, I don’t know if I’m ready for this!” Her voice was a strained squeak, but still she rushed into the walk-in, elbowing the door aside, rifling through the bottom drawer of her dresser. She found them, folded neatly, a symbol of what they’d had to put aside to welcome Hayden into the world.

  And a symbol of what still waited, perhaps eagerly, to be picked up once more.

  It was a uniform of sorts, something they’d alighted on one day as she’d been doing laundry. A tight, white tank top, and a pair of black lace panties, so brief they were little more than an afterthought.

  But it was the additions to the clothing that still made her blush.

  The tank top was snug indeed, not even coming close to covering all of Lacey’s breasts — especially now that she was nursing. In a stark red script, emblazoned across the curves of her bosom were the words:

  Property of Troy

  Printed on the back of the underwear, in block letters was:

  SPANK HERE

  As she pulled the clothes on, her face heated as she remembered the first time Troy presented them to her, telling her they would be her new “uniform” when it came to discipline. He didn’t even need to refer to the special clothing directly anymore.

  They both knew what she was expected to wear when it was time for her to be disciplined.

  Her hair held up in a haphazard pile by several pins, she allowed herself a moment to try to right the mess that was her long, dark locks; she hadn’t done her hair that morning, foolishly assuming this day would be just like any other. She stripped the pins out almost frantically, knowing the clock was ticking down — and with the knowledge he’d be at the door to the bedroom at precisely five minutes from when she’d been dismissed from the driveway.

  When it came to the subject of spanking his loving wife’s ass, Troy meant every word he said.

  She frowned at her reflection as she pulled down the snug tank top enough to cover her belly; she still wasn’t used to the faint pattern of stretch marks there. Fortunately, she had at least been fairly successful in returning herself to some semblance of the shape she’d been in pre-pregnancy.

  Troy had told her he loved those marks, that they were a reminder of what they’d created together. Even though she’d never believe those words, she still loved him for saying them.

  He was a hard man, a strict man — but not for one moment did Lacey ever doubt her husband loved her.

  “I see it might be time for a refresher on the importance of following directions.”

  She spun around, bringing her hand to her mouth. “I-I’m sorry. I—”

  He shook his head slowly. “Bend over the bed, bad girl. We’ve got a few things to discuss. Then we can address your little disobedience.”

  Swallowing hard, her hand splayed across her chest in a vain effort to slow her racing heart, she walked to the foot of the bed. Dropping to her knees, fresh heat flushed up her cheeks at the way the tiny thong seemed to split and showcase her ass, the black lace displaying and presenting bottom cheeks she still felt were much too big.

  “Jesus Christ, I’ve been thinking about this,” he murmured from somewhere behind her.

  She wasn’t sure if it was something she was supposed to reply to, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Thinking about what, sir?”

  “Your ass. Mine.”

  “It was… always yours.”

  His deep laughter rolled over her as he moved closer, looming over her. “True — but not like this. Not like it used to be.”

  Oh, thank God.

  To this day, she still couldn’t make sense of the warring fear and lust that swirled within her as she contemplated — often on her knees — a punishment about to be inflicted upon her vulnerable bottom.

  It had been much too long, but she knew it was not her place to pressure him, or to try to get him to bring that part of their marriage back. He would bring it back, when the time was right.

  Looks like it’s right now. Be careful what you wish for, Lacey.

  The bed dipped as her husband sat down. She knew better than to move her head from where it lay upon her folded arms. A quiet contemplation of her kneeling form was something she still remembered he loved — required — before any meting out of punishment. He loved her — and lusted after her — and nothing fired that lust more than looking upon her naked ass.

  Regardless of the fact she may have found her backside a little too… generous.

  “Stand up, girl.”

  His words were quiet, but the firmness of his intent was unmistakable.

  This was no time to dawdle or disobey.


  Rising to her feet, she wrung her hands in front of her, unsure what she was supposed to do. Face him? Stay where she was? Hop in place on one leg?

  When he slipped into his growly, disciplinary mode, she was quite sure she’d do just that, if he ordered her to.

  “Stand in front of me.” He reached out and hooked a big hand around her hip, yanking her close. She stumbled a little then stood before him, within the span of his knees. His gaze coursed at length over her form as she breathed in the pleasing scent of his cologne.

  He said nothing as he regarded her, ratcheting up the tension by the second until she fluttered her hands at her sides, her heart pounding.

  “Present, girl.”

  For a split second, she had to remember what that word entailed exactly, so long had it been since she’d heard the heated order.

  Lacing her fingers together under the warm weight of her hair, she clasped her hands behind her neck.

  “Good.” His hand caressed the broad curve of her hip, her skin breaking out into gooseflesh. He looked up at her. “Cold?”

  “N-no, sir. Just… nervous, I guess.”

  “You should be.”

  Oh, God!

  “One of the things we need to talk about is how our lives are going to be, moving forward — now that we have Hayden. Have you thought of that?”

  “Of course.”

  “And?”

  “W-what?”

  “What are your thoughts? It’s okay to speak, girl. Your words are likely to have a direct impact on how your ass feels in the next few minutes, so I expect you to be honest.”

  Lacey shivered. “I-I wondered how long… until things would be back to how they used to be.”

  “You mean me keeping you in line?” He palmed one of her buttocks, giving it a meaningful squeeze. “I admit I’ve missed it even more than I thought I would. Did you miss having a hot, throbbing ass, girl?”

  “No… but I missed that you”—she took a deep breath, trying to plow forward despite the embarrassment the words elicited within her—“sometimes decided that I… needed that. Sir.”

  “Did you miss your Maintenance Nights too?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It shamed her more than perhaps anything else — and Troy went to great lengths to explore the depths of shame with his wife. She not only missed them, she yearned for them. This despite the pain, despite the humiliation, despite the way he used her like little more than a walking, breathing sex toy. Or maybe it was because of all of those things.

  She’d even dreamed of Maintenance Night once!

  “Did you worry that having our son was going to change things forever?”

  It was always the elephant in the room during her pregnancy — especially when Troy had begun to go very easy on her. There had been no difficulty setting it aside then; her pregnancy and the needs of her unborn son took their rightful place as foremost in her mind. But there was no denying it was always a thought, a whispered fear.

  Maybe he wouldn’t want her anymore? Could she still offer him the same deep submission she’d given him before she’d gotten pregnant? The fears of her body no longer being attractive to him were bad enough; ladling on her own growing anxiety that their dynamic was simply incompatible with being parents made things far, far worse.

  “Haven’t they changed? I mean… look at me.”

  “Oh, I am looking at you.” He hooked a finger under the bottom hem of her tank, and eased it up. Her breath caught in her throat as he pressed soft kisses to the pattern of pale stretchmarks decorating the gentle curve of her lower belly. “And what I see is a woman who’s never looked more beautiful.” His hands clasped her hips harshly. “And one who’s never needed to be spanked more than she does today.”

  “Oh, God yes…” she murmured, closing her eyes, despite the pounding of her pulse.

  “Look at me.”

  Her eyes flying open, she met his stern, flinty gaze, the lust she saw there plain.

  “Here’s the truth: things have changed forever.”

  Her heart sank. “Troy, how can—?”

  “Be quiet, wife of mine, or you’re going to get a spanking before your spanking. You understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

  “As I said, things have changed — but not in the way you might think.” His hands stroked up and down her hips, his fingertips playing with the lacy edge of her panties. “Starting today, we’re going to be getting you back in line. I’ve been far too lenient with you. You need a tight rein, bad girl, and I intend to provide it.”

  “Troy—”

  “Unless you’re telling me no, you’d better keep those pretty lips zipped. Last warning, my girl.”

  “I… I’m not saying no. Sir.”

  “Good — then I expect you to listen quietly.”

  She nodded, blushing, knowing he expected her silence.

  “Maintenance Nights are now a regular part of your week again — starting Friday.”

  Her heart squeezed so hard she thought it might stop — even as her clit immediately began to swell, her sensitive nipples instantly hardening to bullets under the tight fabric of her tank top.

  Careful what you wish for, indeed.

  Troy continued. “But since you’ve gone so long without the discipline that you’ve so sorely needed — and that I’ve so badly needed to provide to you — we’re going to be making up for some lost time, you and me. So, we’re going to be having a Maintenance Week for you, my dear. What do you think of that?”

  Lacey was too stunned to even form speech. “I… what…?”

  It used to take her days to fully recover from her Maintenance Nights before. How on Earth was she going to survive a whole week of them? Had he lost his mind?

  “You’ll have seven different punishments, one per day. You can sort of think of it as us catching up as a couple again. What do you think?”

  How about a nice getaway, instead? Flowers?

  Who was she kidding? For women like her, bouquets and vacations were nice, but it was something else entirely that made her clit hard, that haunted her twisted, fevered dreams.

  Despite the wording, she knew the man was not seeking her permission. He’d decreed it — and she’d endure it. Just as they’d both agreed years ago. Still, she had to say something.

  “I… I don’t think I can take that, Tr — sir.”

  “Ah, but I didn’t say they’d be in the same week, did I?”

  “But… you called it Maintenance Week.”

  He lowered his chin, a gesture that never failed to get her heart pounding faster — for it meant she was treading on thin ice.

  It makes your pussy wet, too. You’re insane.

  “You’ll have to pay off one punishment each week, over seven weeks. I think you can survive that, don’t you?”

  She was only barely able to suppress a sigh. “Yes, sir.”

  Though she knew it wouldn’t be easy, she knew she could do it. Yes, it was likely to be hell, knowing how hard he punished when it came to normal maintenance nights, but a part of her was anticipating it with a mix of dread and dark lust.

  “We’ll go over the details later. For now, just know — things are going to change, and that starts right now. Understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.” She licked her lips, her mouth hopelessly dry.

  “Turn around.”

  “Oh, what? Okay…”

  “What was that?” His hand gripped her thigh, his fingers like steel.

  “Okay, sir!”

  “That’s my girl. Now, do as you’re told.”

  She spun around, then stood silently, feeling his gaze course over her flesh, the humiliating — yet strangely arousing — encouragement to take her in hand emblazoned across the seat of her panties. It was never easy for her to let him look at her ass, especially when he made her cooperate in her display of it.

  But it could always be worse, and she knew it was about to be.

  “Take them down. Slowly.”
>
  Hooking her thumbs in the thin lace, she drew the fabric down her legs.

  “Bend at the waist. Just like you’ve been taught.”

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured, her face flaming. It shouldn’t have mattered; the man had seen, and touched, every millimeter of her body. But it was this way every single time.

  And she knew he loved it that way. He took advantage of the fact that no matter how many hours she spent on the treadmill, no matter how strict she was with her diet, she always, always, felt like her ass was too big.

  It helped that he obviously adored it, but it didn’t change the fact that she cursed her genes — even as she thanked God for bringing her a man who loved how she filled out a pair of jeans.

  Straightening her legs, she dropped the panties to her ankles, trying to ignore the wetness of the gusset against her foot. She knew he could see the evidence of her arousal, smell her desire — and her fear of what he was about to do to her.

  He loved it all — and she was thankful for it. Somehow, it always eased her fear, and heightened her own arousal, knowing her submission to him was a turn-on for her husband.

  Knowing her pain was his pleasure.

  His hand slapped her ass playfully. “No, don’t clench them.”

  She forced herself to relax those muscles, though it was a certainty her punishment would begin in moments.

  He fondled and smacked her buttocks, squeezing them until she hissed. He always knew what mortified her most. And those same things were usually what aroused him more than anything else.

  Still, it was a warm-up, one she would appreciate later when she found herself crying out from the cruel blows of his paddle.

  Holding her hips still, his voice lowered to a murmur. “Step out of them.” He held her steady as she did so, handing the panties to him as she knew he expected. He grinned up at her as he tucked them in his pocket. “I missed this part too.”

  She wasn’t sure what he did with her panties, but he sometimes kept the ones he didn’t rip during her punishments. She was never sure what he might do.