Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  “Closest thing I’ve ever seen to this is Forest Park just west of Portland, but this is… something else.”

  Perhaps not quite as huge as Forest Park, this one offered even steeper terrain, and denser, wilder forest, and unlike Portland’s version, this one led right into the heart of downtown. It was truly remarkable. He had the feeling it was a place someone could get well and truly lost in.

  And never come back.

  “What about that little hill? It’s almost flat on top, looks like stairs leading up the side?” Though situated far below the perch of Von’s house, the knoll held a commanding, and perhaps even more intimate, view of the downtown core — such as it was — of White Valley.

  Von’s eyes darkened for an instant, like a cloud flitting across the afternoon sun.

  “Promontory Hill. It’s, well, we’ll get to that.”

  Troy decided to ignore it, for the moment. There were too many other questions crowding his mind. “You never answered my question. How did you find this place? You know somebody here?”

  “Only one.”

  “Care to tell me who this person is, or are we playing twenty questions today?”

  “Keenan Wingate.” Von pointed over his shoulder. “He’s got a place on the east end of town, other side of the hill there. Quite a pad.”

  “Where you meet this guy? Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Nah, we didn’t run across him in country. He’s ex-military too, but… not the sort we were.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Von’s eyebrow arched slightly. “It’s complicated. Some serious shit though. I’ll let him tell it, when the time comes.”

  “He entice you to move out here the way you’re trying to lure me here?”

  Von’s brow arched. “Who me? I’m not luring anybody.”

  But his sly smile told the real tale.

  Troy couldn’t deny this was a side of Von he’d never seen before. Hell, it was a part of the man’s personality he didn’t even know existed. The man he’d known in the service was unfailingly direct. No bullshit. If Von thought it, he said it — unvarnished, unadorned. Some people hated it. Troy found it refreshing, and took more than a little pleasure at watching people squirm as Von gave it to them straight. Too many people in this world couldn’t handle the truth. Didn’t want to deal with an all-too-often thorny reality.

  But Von didn’t put up with any of that idiocy.

  Thank God.

  “Keenan’s practically the fucking mayor here. Knows everybody. I swear, he’s got a spy network here or something. If it’s going on, dude probably knew about it a week ago.”

  “Nice man to have in your camp?”

  Von nodded slowly. “Um, yeah. Not a fella to fuck over, that’s for sure. Anyway, I ran across him at a, well, a place in Seattle. A club. Told me about his hometown, and I couldn’t resist.”

  Troy groaned, then made a whip sound, gesturing with his hand. “That kinda club?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  Troy laughed. “Christ, you had me going for a minute, thinking you’d evolved into something more complex than Cro-Magnon. Glad to see still you’re as predictable as the sunrise, perv.”

  “Guess I have my work cut out for me then.” Von stood, drawing himself to his full height, stretching his back. “I think I have a surprise or two up my sleeve. You scared, Sarge?”

  “The only thing that’s ever scared me about you is the prospect of paying your bar tab. Bring it, jarhead.”

  Von slid open the glass door that led back into the house. “After you then. I think it’s time for a trip into town.”

  * * *

  Tucked in between two much larger — and newer — buildings, Paglianos, a bustling, crowded Italian restaurant, was a sort of throw-back, seemingly out of place on the otherwise modern, even cosmopolitan, main drag of town. White Valley was the cleanest small town Troy had ever seen, and though he wondered exactly why that was, he decided to keep his questions to himself.

  As they made their way through the maze of tables to their booth, Von had shaken several hands, exchanging warm greetings, including with that of a striking raven-haired woman of about forty. The woman looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t decide where he might have seen her before. Many pairs of eyes regarded Troy intently, the newcomer being sized up.

  “Goddamn, that smells incredible,” Troy growled as they sat down at a booth toward the very back of the establishment, the smells of fresh garlic, and savory meats already making his mouth water. He cracked a wry smile as he realized Von did the exact same thing he did. Wherever he went, Troy was always aware of his surroundings, ever on guard. A seat at the back of a restaurant, preferably one that provided clear line of sight to both the front entrance and any alternate exits, was a must, whenever he could swing it.

  The tall M240 grunt from Alpha company was apparently no different.

  The place, decorated in loud neon and colorful tchotchkes from all over the world, was warm, but not overly so. Being lunchtime, the restaurant was packed to the gills, the din of conversation considerable enough that Troy had to raise his voice to be heard. Several servers, all young and lovely — his favorite kind — circulated through the place, each dressed in a snug white blazer and a black mini-skirt. They looked more like cocktail waitresses you’d find in a night club, but Troy was definitely not going to complain.

  Not one bit.

  “Mike got us a hook-up,” Von said, leaning over the table. “Usually can’t find a seat in here during lunch.”

  “Where’d all these people come from?” Troy looked around. “Does every person in this little burg come here for lunch?”

  “White Valley’s bigger than it looks.” Von picked up the menu, scanning it. “Hey, so you’re probably gonna… see a few things. Not what you might be used to. Just letting you know, it’s cool.”

  “Don’t patronize me, you prick.”

  “You know what I’m into, yeah? This town’s into it too.” Von scratched his chin. “Like jump in the deep-end, hardcore into it. You understand me?”

  “Like I told you back at the house — bring it.”

  Von glanced across the aisle at an approaching server, the female followed closely by a hulking man in a black button-down dress shirt.

  Beaming, Von gave Troy a conspiratorial wink. “Mike really did hook us up today.”

  The server stood stiffly at the side of the table, her back ramrod straight, hands clasped behind her, the pose emphasizing the jut of pert breasts. “How may I help you?”

  She was older than the others, taller, and perhaps a little curvier. Close up, it was obvious her age wasn’t the only thing unique about this particular… server. Her skirt was ridiculously short, so brief that Troy doubted she’d be able to so much as bend over before confirming to all around her what color her underwear was.

  If she wore any.

  The more he took in her spectacle, the more he wondered if she’d been allowed any. Her deep brown hair was pulled back in a single pony tail, several buttons of her blazer open, displaying a scandalous amount of cleavage, the swells of her breasts accented by the thick leather and steel collar affixed about her neck.

  The woman’s waist was nipped in dramatically, accentuating the curves of her hips, and it was at that moment Troy picked up on her quick, shallow breathing.

  Corset.

  And a damned strict one too.

  Black garters were clearly visible, holding up the smoky stockings that failed to meet the hem of the tiny skirt, the clear, pale skin of her thighs contrasting appealingly against the dark fabric.

  “New girl, Mike?” Von leaned his head around her, addressing the man standing behind the woman.

  “Serving a term. Thought I’d put her to work, rather than keep her all to myself.”

  “Generous man.” Von’s gaze hardened as it shifted to take in the mute woman standing before them. “You have a name?”

  “Isabell
a.”

  There was a soft growl behind her.

  A blush suffused her face, highlighting her high cheekbones, the red painted lips. “Sir.”

  Von regarded her for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve met you before…”

  “Travis Brucker put her up for a term. His fiancée, apparently. Got lots of attention at the auction.”

  “New ones always do. Poor girl,” Von murmured. He looked around her to Mike again. “Full rights? How long?”

  “A week, and yes, we’ve… been taking full advantage. Fun times at our house. She’s a good girl, once you train her up.”

  The girl’s head drooped, her face scarlet.

  “I wonder what your fiancé is thinking right now, hmm?” Von dipped his head, as if to meet her gaze. “Look at me, pretty girl.”

  Reluctantly, she obeyed, her eyes brimming.

  “I’ll bet he’s stroking his cock, imagining his beautiful woman pleasing Mike’s customers. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it? Please us — and anyone else Mike tells you to?”

  Her throat worked spasmodically.

  Mike’s voice was a warning rumble. “Answer him, Isabella.”

  Troy’s pants were suddenly very tight. Even though he didn’t really understand what was going on, the strange, lurid study in humiliation before them was more than enough to pique his interest. There’d be time enough for questions later. He was determined to simply go with things, and see where they led.

  “Yes, sir. I… want to please.”

  Von smiled, touching her hip. “I know you do. And I intend to see how serious you are about that. For now though? Let’s go with the number nine. Extra cheese, light on the garlic.” He looked over at Troy, eyebrows raised.

  “I’ll take the pie. Pepperoni is fine. You do New York style?”

  “It’s the only real one,” Mike drawled from behind her, pride in his voice.

  “Good,” Troy said, handing Isabella his menu, hoping his smile was more comforting than mortifying to the appealingly frightened woman.

  A beefy hand clamped around her upper arm, Mike pulled the woman away, turning her toward the kitchen and sending her on her way with a smack to her ass. She yelped with more feeling than one would’ve expected for the comparatively light touch.

  She hurried away as fast as her high heels allowed her, and Mike offered Troy his hand. “Glad to have you here, Sergeant Warren. Ex-military are always welcome here — and any friend of Von’s is a friend of mine.”

  Shaking his hand, Troy inclined his head. “Helluva place you’ve got here. Thanks for the, uh, warm welcome.”

  Von chuckled, shaking his head.

  “What?” Troy looked from his friend to the mirth dancing in Mike’s eyes.

  “You stick around long enough, and we’ll give you a real welcome, Mr. Warren. That’s up to you though. Think of Isabella as an appetizer, a trial run. You like, and maybe there’s more?” Mike shook Von’s hand then, and gave them both a nod. “Thanks for coming in, boys. We’ll be back soon.”

  * * *

  As they wolfed down their food, Troy couldn’t help but watch Isabella as she moved self-consciously through the maze of tables and booths in the place. Mike, standing near the small, but crowded, bar, watched her closely, his eyes intent.

  Troy wondered if this was some sort of test being carried out, perhaps a trial of obedience to his wishes.

  Or perhaps the man is just enjoying himself.

  “You don’t have a single question?” Von said it through a mouthful of spaghetti, twirling his fork in the rapidly dwindling pile of noodles before him.

  “Oh, I’ve got a shitload, but I thought I’d let you eat first.”

  “You mean you thought you’d drink her in for a while. Not that I blame you.” Von set his fork down, wiping his lips with a huge white napkin. “Come on. Let’s hear ‘em.”

  “Well, let’s see — you want to tell me what the hell a ‘term’ is?”

  Von’s gaze flicked over toward the lovely Isabella, the woman currently taking orders at another table twenty feet away. “Each woman who lives here, she needs to do at least one term. It’s sort of a tradition, I guess.”

  “Like a, what? An initiation?”

  “I suppose you could call it that, yeah. But it’s a little different in that most of the time, the woman doing a term has been here for a while, sometimes years.”

  “No time limit on it?”

  Von shook his head, pushing his plate away. “It’s got to be something she’s ready for. It would never work otherwise.”

  “Why?”

  His long fingers playing with his crumpled-up napkin, Von met his gaze. “Because of what she’s going to have to go through.”

  Interesting.

  “And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what that is, are you?”

  “Nope — not the time. When it is, if you think this might be the sort of town you’d want to… well, we can get into those details then.”

  “Do the guys ever have to, uh, serve a term?” He couldn’t imagine Von would be the sort to couch such a thing, but at that point he still had no idea what he was dealing with here.

  “No, the men don’t have to do terms. It’s… not that sort of place. The tradition… it’s never incorporated men.” Von gave him a sly smile. “The power imbalance only leans in one direction.”

  Troy tapped the table with his palm, an almost childlike eagerness rising with him. “Let’s cut through the bullshit — you’re good at that.”

  “Agreed.” Von’s gaze remained fixed upon him, an intensity there Troy had rarely seen. This meant something to the man — perhaps it meant everything.

  “This place — it’s a, like a patriarchy? The men rule the women?”

  “It’s not that simple, but you’re headed down the right road.” Von lifted his chin toward the fetching Isabella. “She looks like she’s not having a very good time, right? Maybe she isn’t — but she signed up for this. She volunteered for a term, with all that comes with it. The Walk is just the beginning.”

  “What walk?”

  Von waved a hand in front of him. “The Walk is probably the hardest part, it’s”—he grimaced, his fingers combing through his beard as if deciding what he should say next—“we’ll get to that when it makes sense. It’s something that comes with putting yourself up for a term. The point is: the girl knows what she’s doing, even if she probably wonders if she bit off more than she can chew.”

  “What did she bite off here? I still don’t understand what the fuck a ‘term’ actually is.”

  “It’s a volunteer of a woman to the community.”

  “The community?”

  Despite the almost surreal quality of what Von seemed to be implying, Troy’s cock was already a bar of steel in his pants. Still, he pressed further.

  “A girl put up for a term is technically the… property of White Valley, during that term.”

  “Whoa, whoa — property?”

  This is like a sick, twisted dream. Is this really happening?

  Troy sincerely hoped it was.

  “Yes, she’s property, but since a community is made up of many members, it only makes sense — only fair — to determine who should watch over her during her term. Which is why they get auctioned off to the highest bidder.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Von smiled. “Don’t tell me this is wigging you out? You told me to bring it, Sarge. This is only the very beginning of doing just that. Stay with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, asshole.” Troy lowered his voice. “But I’m the sort who needs to know exactly what he’s getting into, before he decides to try something out.”

  “Already thinking about moving here then?” Von’s eyes were dancing. “The fever — it’s powerful. And it affected all of us in different ways — once we realized what we were dealing with, that is.”

  “Who said I was thinking about moving?” Troy said it with more vehemence than he intended. The
view from Von’s deck immediately popped into his mind, the sheer beauty of the place.

  A beauty made even more powerful by the fact that apparently, the entire town was a dominant man’s dream.

  Von wasn’t taken aback in the least though. “You don’t need to justify things, and it’s pointless to deny the truth. This place… it’s got a way of stripping away all the bullshit. And what’s left, is human nature — in all its forms. We don’t flee from that here — we accept it. We enjoy it.”

  “So, everyone here? They’re in on this?”

  Von’s nod was solemn. “It’s been this way for many years. It’s a very close community — a town that wants to live life in a very… particular way.”

  “And I take it not just anyone can move here, is that it?”

  It sounded a lot more like a commune now than he was comfortable with, regardless of how turned on the idea made him.

  Von frowned then, looking down. “I think I’ve fucked up a little here. Maybe gone a little faster than I should have.”

  “I think I’m being pretty understanding considering what you’re telling me sounds like something out of a movie. This is for real, right? You’re not fucking with me?”

  “I don’t fuck around when it comes to this place,” Von said quietly.

  Troy wiped a palm across his mouth, his heart beating so fast he felt like he’d just come in from a run. It wasn’t the idea that had him like this; truth be told, the prospect was one of the hottest things he’d ever heard in his life.

  It was the stark reality of it, that such a place actually existed, that had him reeling.

  “Don’t hold back now, jarhead. You might make the sergeant think you’re all talk and no fucking action.”

  Von threw his head back and laughed at that, the sudden tension seeming to melt away.

  Things were okay. This…. whatever it was, exactly, was going to be okay too.

  “I think I can set you straight on that front, Sarge.” With a wave of his hand, Von beckoned Isabella back over to the table. She assumed the same stiff stance, resembling a recruit at attention before her drill sergeant than a server in a restaurant.