Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  Von leaned back, resting an elbow on the side rail of the bench. “You could bring Lacey too. She’d… yeah, she’d fit in. Very well.”

  “We still talking metaphorically here?” Troy narrowed his eyes, fixing Von with his gaze. “Not sure she’s ready for that.”

  “Then just you. All you need to do is see what it’s about. Think about it.” Von stood up, offering his hand, a white card caught between two fingers. “You call me when you’re ready. In the meantime, have a look at the site on that card. Will be interesting reading, I promise.”

  Troy took the card, shaking his head. “I knew I should’ve sent your call to voicemail.”

  Von grinned, his white teeth showing prominent canines, his eyes glinting in the bright sunshine. “Taking my call might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you, sergeant.”

  Chapter 4

  The letter trembled in her fingers as she held it. Letters were never good.

  She’d found it neatly folded on her pillow when she’d woken. Troy had been long gone, wanting to go in early to get as much done as possible before the weekend.

  And undoubtedly to enable him to come home early to take care of Maintenance Night.

  She swallowed hard, her buttocks tightening. What she read on this letter was likely going to confirm how those buttocks would be feeling later that night.

  Opening the letter, her hand went to her face as she read. She nibbled on her finger as she learned her fate:

  Lace,

  I know you’ve been wondering what you’re in for during Maintenance Week, so I thought I’d take mercy on you and give you an idea — for part of it. Read carefully. I’ll expect you to memorize this — or else.

  Week #1 — spanking and flogger for your ass and thighs

  Week #2 — tits

  Week #3 — anal punishment

  Week #4 — cunt

  Week #5 — the cane

  Week #6 and #7 — I can’t give away all the surprises, can I?

  Each week, you will be in your uniform, in the bedroom, kneeling at the foot of the bed. If I require additional preparations, I will text or call you.

  You may expect to be used after your discipline, or I may choose not to. You may not expect to be allowed any orgasms during these punishments, though the decision is ultimately mine.

  These punishments will be meted out regardless of what shape you’re in from any other discipline you’ve earned during the week. So, I’d advise you to be a very, very good girl for the next couple of months.

  Lest you think I’m being too harsh, know that you will be required to rest both Saturday and Sunday following your discipline. You are not to cook or do housework (or work of any kind) during this time.

  Failure to follow these directions will mean you require additional training.

  You’ve gone far too long without a tight rein, and you’ve suffered for it. That’s at an end, my girl, trust me on that.

  We are going to take your submission to a deeper level, you and me. You need it, and I want it.

  I’m very proud of you, and I love you.

  Troy

  “Oh, my God,” Lacey said through fingers clamped across her lips. The fabric of her T-shirt felt like sandpaper across her sensitive — and now very erect — nipples. Her heartbeat had quickened as she’d read the letter. It was something she’d expected. She knew Troy took great pleasure in making her anticipate — and dread — what was coming to her.

  It was never easy for her — but few things turned her on more.

  “Jesus, I thought you were past this?”

  She walked to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, propping her chin on her hand, deep in her thoughts. In approximately twelve hours, her ass was going to be a seething, agonizing mass of welts. Tears would be soaking her face, her voice hoarse from her cries and her pleas.

  And just the thought of that had her pussy wet already.

  Hiding her face in her hands, she went over all the things she needed to get done that day before Troy got home.

  Before her date with pain and pleasure began.

  * * *

  As she knelt at the bed, she went over her day, hoping she hadn’t forgotten anything.

  She’d nursed Hayden, sighing at the relief of the pressure in her breasts, then got him dressed in time for her Mom to pick him up. A quick shower, and jumping into her “uniform” followed — and then it was but a waiting game.

  She’d even laid out the flogger on the mattress, hoping such a deviation from her instructions was okay. He hadn’t specifically ordered she lay out the implements for him, but she hoped he’d be pleased.

  Just the knowledge that that length of leathers waited on the mattress next to her made her want to cringe from it. It was perhaps one of the less intense implements in his arsenal, but it was capable of raising a level of heat in her flesh that few other things could. And he was quite capable of using it on her for a very, very long time.

  The door opened downstairs and she curled over the bed, laying her cheek on the cool comforter. Her hands were clasped at the small of her back, a silent offering to be bound if her husband should choose to do so.

  Several minutes passed, her ears keyed in to the muffled sounds from downstairs, her thoughts a storm of fear, lust, mortification, and excitement. Would it hurt more than the spanking she’d received just last week? Did she want it to?

  Her pussy was on a continuous burn, a slight throbbing that had lasted most of the day as she anticipated what was to come upon the arrival of her stern — and wonderful — husband. The fact he’d prohibited her from masturbating unless given permission only exacerbated the frustrated arousal.

  Then there came the familiar clump-clump of his heavy boots on the staircase risers.

  A change in the air pressure upon her bare arms heralded the arrival of her husband — and her disciplinarian.

  “Were you a good girl today?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Touch that pussy at all?”

  Did it count when she was in the shower? Taking extra long to clean between her legs wasn’t technically disobedience, was it?

  “No, sir.”

  “Good.” He was silent for a moment. “Ready for your punishment?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  “Then say the words.”

  Drawing a slow breath, she closed her eyes as she said the words, her face heating. “Please may I have my spanking, sir?”

  “Of course, you can, bad girl.”

  She shivered.

  He loomed over her, reaching for the flogger. “I don’t remember instructing you to set this out.”

  “I-I’m sorry, sir. Just thought you’d appreciate it.”

  His lips brushed against her hair. “I do.”

  She smiled, even though her heart was already jack-hammering in her chest.

  Something heavy dropped on the mattress beside her, and she stiffened. It could only be one thing.

  “Take down your panties.”

  With trembling hands, she obeyed, leaving them bunched at her bent knees.

  “I’m going to spank this ass until it’s bright red. Then we’re going to see how that bottom of yours — and your thighs — color up under the flogger. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she croaked, heart in her throat. This was going to be awful.

  So, why are your juices running down your leg already, slut?

  “On your feet, girl.”

  She rose on unsteady legs, but didn’t face him yet. Strict obedience was what he expected on days like these. She’d already been running risks as it was by setting out the flogger for him.

  Then she spied what she knew had been placed on the bed. It was a wedge cushion, upholstered in deepest black. She’d dubbed it “The Ramp,” a moniker that never ceased to make Troy laugh.

  But the wedge cushion was no laughing matter to her — for it meant one of two things: either her ass was being punished, or it was being fucked.

  Often enou
gh, it had been both.

  “Turn around.” His voice had taken on a sterner note.

  Oh, shit.

  Looking up into his eyes, she saw it there — the predator. The conqueror.

  It only made the heat bloom hotter between her thighs.

  Not saying a word, he rucked her tank top up rather than making her take it off. Bunching the fabric across her upper chest, her milk-heavy breasts projected below it. He bounced one of them in his palm, grinning at her. “Still sore?”

  “Not so bad… nursed Hayden before Mom picked him up.”

  Troy studied her breasts for a moment, then took both in his hands, giving them a firm squeeze. She moaned, the sensation arrowing straight down to her clenching womb deep in her belly.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered.

  “That feel good then? Not hurting too much?”

  “I-it hurts, but, don’t stop. Please.”

  With a wolfen smile, he kneaded them again, harder, her breath whistling between her teeth.

  It was a pleasure that was difficult to understand, impossible to resist. Ever since she’d given birth, it was as if her breasts were overtight, threatening to burst. Nursing only offered temporary relief, and if she found herself aroused — which seemed to be almost all the time now — it only made things worse. Yet the sensation of his strong, hard hands manhandling her swollen breasts was something that always, always, made her sex clench tight, her labia already slippery with her juices — even if such handling did sometimes hurt.

  “I can’t wait to go to work on these big tits. Mmm. But not now.” He kissed each upturned nipple, giving them a little tweak before meeting her eyes. “Lay over it, sweetheart. Quickly now.”

  Troy took hold of her shoulder, giving her “help” she didn’t really need. Lacey twisted in place, and settled over the familiar — and dreaded — firm cushion. He took hold of her hips, lifting them, adjusting her position to his exact specifications.

  His hand cracked against her thigh. “Spread your legs.”

  She instantly complied, stretching them toward the corners of the mattress.

  Though no restraints could be seen when she laid over the wedge, such an order usually meant he intended to bind her ankles to the bed.

  But this time, he left them free. It would make it that much more difficult to comply when he was painting lines of fire across her ass.

  “Good. Hands toward the headboard, stretch as far as you can.”

  It made things so much harder, this cooperation. Somehow laying herself bare this way was even more difficult than being trussed up, helpless against whatever he intended to do to her next.

  “You’re already wet, bad girl.” A finger eased up her split, the tip just inside her burning labia. It tapped her anus, leaving wetness there. “Such a horny little slut.”

  Her cheeks flamed hot. “I-I’m sorry…”

  “It’s okay. I think I have what that pussy needs.” He stood next to the bed, laying a hand across her lower back. “What do you say?”

  Being forced to ask for her discipline was almost as difficult as enduring it, and yet her womb tightened at the low rumble of his words, at the enforcement of his will upon her.

  “Please spank me… sir.”

  “And why?”

  She pressed her forehead to the mattress, her words muffled against the soft covers. “Because I need it, sir.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  His big palm smacked her ass, the fingers seeming to mold to her flesh for split second before pulling away. The sting began immediately, though the disquieting vibration of each smack never failed to stir the desire between her legs. Taking up a steady, deliberate pace, spanks came down upon her ass, the crack of each blow making her flinch as much as the heat growing upon her flesh.

  “You’re clenching, dear.”

  It was a reflex she’d never seem to be able to train herself out of. She tried to ease the tension in her body, visualizing herself as flowing over the wedge, a being more of energy and emotion than flesh and blood. It worked.

  “Good girl.” He stroked her ass, the thick fingers testing the wetness at her sex before pulling away again. “Nice and hot already. Poor Lacey. I love it.”

  Two more smacks followed quickly, one to each cheek, the force of them shaking her entire body. He pressed her to the cushion more firmly, the rumble of his deep voice more raw emotion than coherent thought. She turned her head toward him, her eyes immediately alighting on the hard bulge between his thighs, the black slacks he wore to work clearly showing the outline of his thick cock, pressing urgently against the fabric. She watched his face as he spanked her, the way his eyes glittered as he looked upon her helplessly presented bottom. His lips quirked into a smile as she moaned for the first time, a particularly harsh smack catching the undercurve of her left buttock, sending it bounding, the tender flesh there roasting hot.

  “Felt that one,” he murmured. He glanced down at her then. “Hide your face, bad girl.”

  Mortified, she looked away then, her blush burning against the coolness of the covers. It was humiliating to be admonished like that, but like everything else he did, it only seemed to turn her on more. She couldn’t explain it — didn’t want to explain it — but it was undeniably true.

  Before he was done with the spanking, her hips were waving, her whimpers continuous, her eyes pricking with hot tears. Her entire ass was throbbing, burning before his big, callused palm stilled. Squeezing and caressing his flesh, the deep sound of his wordless murmurs of pleasure helped her center herself again.

  He paused and her heart pounded still harder in anticipation of what was to come.

  The leather falls caressed her flesh, tapping against her thighs, her bottom, even the wetness of her sex. Over and over, it played over her skin, slapping gently at first, then increasing in intensity. Soon, the leather was smacking her with a loud schlack-schlack-schlack that seemed to crowd out all sound, all awareness but the stinging of her flesh.

  Her pussy was almost as hot as her bottom, and she pushed back, wanting desperately for him to touch her again. She cried out as the tips of the falls caught the soft lips of her pussy, the white-hot flashes of pain making her squeeze her cleft tight.

  “We’ll get to that cunt of yours on another day, greedy girl. Keep that ass still, and take your discipline obediently.”

  She whimpered into the mattress, her blush flaring again.

  The flogging commenced in earnest, her cries continuous as the leather coursed up and down the backs of her thighs. He gave her ass several hard, searing strokes — then scourged her thighs all over again. Before he was done, the tears were coursing freely down her cheeks, her cries pleading, desperate, forlorn, wordlessly imploring him for mercy she knew she didn’t ever want him to grant.

  Then it was done, and she panted over her cushion, her nose wet, her eyes burning, her cheeks awash in tears. Her bottom felt as if it were being stung by thousands of tiny pinpricks, the heat in her flesh overwhelming, her thighs throbbing and burning like twin beacons of anguish.

  “You’re doing just fine, girl. Nice and red and hot. Those sweet thighs are going to be sore tomorrow.” He pinched one of her welts and she drew in a sharp hiss. “Good pattern here. Next time, I think I might take a few pictures of these.”

  She gasped at the idea — but not out of horror. Not entirely, anyway. It had been something else they’d discussed, a sort of visual documentation of her journey, of her increasing submission to his will — and his desires.

  Was he considering revisiting it?

  Both of them feared the ramifications of photos and video; everyone was well aware of how such a thing could go sideways — and quickly — in the digital age. It required its own unique level of trust, and at the time they’d first discussed it, they’d decided they weren’t ready, no matter how much the idea turned both of them on. And it definitely did. She’d secretly come to terms with the fact she had an exhibitionist streak almost as strong as her m
asochistic one. What was contradictory about it was the level of embarrassment she felt at the mere thought of it. How could it mortify her so powerfully, and yet make her clit practically throb at the idea?

  You could put a therapist’s children through college with all the baggage you could talk about, you know that?

  “What do think of that, Lacey-girl? How would you like to be ordered to do it? To send me pictures of this bottom as the marks bloom and darken?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  His fingers slid between the lips of her pussy, plundering deep, curling within her, making her groan. “Nervous? Or turned-on?”

  “Both, I think.”

  “You can trust me, Lacey.”

  She knew it in her heart, and in her mind, but it was a level of objectification they hadn’t explored.

  Yet.

  “I know, sir.” She drew a long breath. “It’s just… it’s so embarrassing. I’m… hideous.”

  She could feel his displeasure, but he didn’t smack her ass as admonishment. “You know you’re not to speak negatively about yourself. Look at me, bad girl.”

  Reluctantly, she met his gaze as he stood over her. But rather than anger in his eyes, she saw mirth, and pleasure, and affection. It made her smile.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and best of all, you’re all mine.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Her eyes brimmed at the sweet words, and she longed to reach for him. But it was forbidden during a punishment.

  “I’m going to let you in on a secret. But you have to promise you can’t tell anyone I told you.”

  “Of course.”

  “When you brought Hayden to the office last week? The guys could not keep their fucking eyes off you.”