Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  She sighed as they were released, one after the other, and she whined a little as the circulation returned fully. He’d gone easy with binding her breasts, mindful of the fact she was still lactating, but he wanted her to know her days of him treating her with kid gloves were over.

  They both needed to know that things were back to what they were before. To where they both wanted them, needed them to be.

  She craned her head around, looking down at her bound hands, then back at him, her eyebrows raised slightly. “Sir…?”

  “Oh, we’re not done yet, bad girl.”

  “W-what?”

  Troy picked up the other item he’d set on the mattress. He’d laid it on the comforter, directly behind her where she couldn’t see it.

  Waving it before her, he grinned like a wolf. “One more little item to take care of.”

  She went pale, her eyes wide as she understood what it was. “No… Troy. I…”

  “Are you truly refusing?”

  He waited patiently, loving the conflict he could see warring in her eyes as she looked at the thin steel implement, and then back up to him.

  “No…sir.” She bit the corner of her lip, expression crestfallen.

  “I thought so.” He tapped the thin metal tines against his palm. “Since you’re still lactating, I can’t give those big tits a nice spanking like I’d prefer to. They move so well as they’re being slapped around. So… this should do the trick. It’s nice and whippy — and stings like hell. But it’s safe for those soft titties of yours.”

  He’d seen the implement referred to as a Titty Whisk before, and the name was one he found apt. Made of thin steel tines no thicker than linguine noodles, they spread out into a shape roughly resembling a narrow fan, no wider than a flyswatter. The tines ran down to an ornate etched metal handle, perfectly weighted to allow precise strikes without fatiguing the hand.

  Though he’d never tried it on Lacey, he’d taken a few test smacks to the inside of his forearm, and he could attest it stung like fire.

  “Now, stay very still.” He laid the tines against the side of her left breast, tapping her gently. “I don’t think you want to disrupt my aim.”

  She froze, wide eyes watching in dread as he pulled the whisk away. Her heavy breast barely moved under the viper’s kiss of the implement, but she hissed loudly as he gave her the first smack.

  “How’s it feel?”

  “Oh, my God, it’s burning!”

  He simply smiled, laying another stroke across her other breast. She yelped at that, shaking them a little as she dealt with the sting, her eyes closed tight as she blew out a labored breath.

  Giving her a stroke every few seconds, he soon had her poor breasts laced with dozens and dozens of tiny, red lines, the marks especially livid where they crossed the sensitive areola.

  Though she was freely weeping after only a dozen strikes across each heaving globe, he avoided her nipples. They were already hugely inflamed, and deep red. Her tears wetting the inside curves of her cleavage, he took each breast gently by the nipple in turn, lifting it gingerly, tapping the tender, white flesh below, and then slicing in with the whisk. She keened loud and long at the first one, a bitten off shriek accompanying the identical stroke under her other breast.

  “There, there, all done with the punishment, sweetie.” He dropped the whisk on the bed, and untied her hands. She cleaved to him instantly, drawing a sharp breath through her teeth as she pressed her swollen, well-wealed breasts to his chest. He let her cry against him for a minute, stroking her hair gently, pressing soft kisses to her ear, hoping his wordless cooing and slow caresses would help calm her down. It had been a very stiff punishment indeed, and he was glad it was over — no matter how much he might have enjoyed it.

  Her hips ground tentatively against the erection jutting from the front of his sweats, and he gave her a quiet growl. “Be careful, girl. Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

  Intending the night to end without a fucking — he saw it as too close to a reward — he wasn’t sure she had the energy left in her, even if he were much more inclined to indulge her than he’d initially planned.

  She looked up at him then, her tear-filled eyes, and the determined set of well-bitten lips illustrating anything but a young woman who’d reached her limit.

  “Finish it. Sir.”

  He took hold of her hair, giving her head a little shake, staring down into her liquid, brimming gaze. “Get your ass on that bed, bad girl.”

  * * *

  “On your hands and knees, head up,” he barked, standing before her, his massive erection stretching the fabric of his sweats tightly around it. The broad head was clearly outlined under the fabric, a wet spot already soaking through.

  She wanted to take that penis in her hands, kiss it, take it in her mouth, give him everything. Her breasts were screaming, but all she wanted at that moment was for her stern, fearsome husband to take her — and hard.

  He stalked around the bed, pacing back and forth, ordering her to turn this way and that, stopping to stoop down, commenting on the way her breasts hung, the way they swayed as she obeyed his growled directions. It seemed he was obsessed with them that night, and though it mortified her — she was certain she couldn’t possibly take more pain to their sensitive curves — it turned her on in a dark, twisted way. It was objectification, in its purest form. To him, at that moment, she was but a pair of breasts for him to enjoy — and enjoy them he had.

  “Take them in your hands,” he said, his voice gravelly with lust. “Squeeze them.”

  Her wealed skin stung against her palms, but she obeyed, her face burning almost as hot as her boobs as she met his gaze. He only looked up from her presented bosom long enough to bark out another order.

  “Pinch your nipples, pull on them. More!”

  She panted as she did it, the pain/pleasure making her head spin. It wasn’t possible for her nipples to be more sensitive, each touch, no matter how gentle, both a heaven and a hell.

  “Keep going. Squeeze them, then pull down. More, girl!”

  He took his cock out as he watched her hurting her own nipples, stroking the long, veined length as he forced her to practically milk her own breasts. Then she felt it, and she gasped.

  His smile was one of triumph as he drank in her realization.

  The letdown was so strong, she felt like she might actually squirt onto the sheets.

  “Hands off!” He bent close, a hand on her back holding her still. Thick, blue-white beads formed on her inflamed, rock-hard nipples, the largest drop threatening to drip at any moment.

  The mattress dipped as he knelt next to her, taking her hair in his fist, his grip twisting, forcing her head back, her face turned toward the ceiling. His flat, hard belly pressed to the side of her rib cage, his hair like sandpaper against her soft skin.

  Then she froze at the first touch, realizing what he was doing.

  “Stay still,” he murmured, his grip on her hair hurting a little now. The burning shaft of his cock eased back and forth against her hanging breast, the head collecting the wetness of her milk. “This is mine, girl. These big tits, this milk, this body. All of it. Don’t forget it.”

  “Yes, sir,” she rasped, her mouth suddenly impossibly dry.

  “Stay there,” he said, with a harsh slap to her ass, her hair blessedly freed. She looked down, her cheeks burning almost as hot as her punished boobs. The mattress moved as he got back to his feet, striding away.

  Returning in moments, he laid a thick towel down upon the comforter behind her. “Turn around. I want your head down and that ass up. Scoot back until your knees are at the edge. Get those tits down on the towel and be still.”

  Her heart pounding into overdrive, she scrambled to obey, the coolness of the fabric a blessing against her angry marks. She buried her face in the comforter to muffle her groan as he pushed deep, his thick cock spreading her wide as he sheathed himself as deeply as a man could go.

  Holding himself
there a minute, he grasped her hips. “You’re not to come. This is not a reward, bad girl. This is for me. Understand?”

  She nodded against the mattress, unable to resist her hips circling slowly against him, his wiry pubic hair grinding against her.

  The slap was immediate and harsh, the heat blooming across her right buttock. “Stop that.”

  She shuddered as he took up an immediate, hard, even brutal thrusting, her pussy already so wet, her juices were running down, slickening her pubic hair with it.

  His hard animal thrusts, the cruel, callous slaps to her bottom, the grunted, filthy language had her moaning faster than she wanted to admit. She didn’t care that he was going to deny her. This was right. She was being punished. This denial… it was part of it. It was unjust, yes, but that was the point.

  He controlled all of it — even her pleasure.

  As much as she wanted to come, especially with his cock stretching her wide with each moan-inducing slam of his hips against her ass, she knew the rightness of it, of surrendering all of it, all choice, all will, to this man.

  This man who held in his hand much more than her heart.

  With a long, soul-deep groan, he pressed close, his cock pulsing with each sharp jerk of his hips against her, his fingers like steel, digging into her hips, his grip as fierce as his final thrusts. His seed filled her to overflowing, dripping down onto the towel below her, thick, hot semen coursing slowly down her inner thigh.

  His breath still coming fast and hard, he collapsed next to her, his impossibly strong arms pulling her atop him with ridiculous ease. She tried to speak, but he shook his head. This wasn’t a time for words — this was a time to feel.

  Then he held her tight in the quiet, deepening evening, his penis warm and wet against her thigh, his kisses soft and gentle against her hair, Lacey wondering how it was possible she’d found herself with a husband straight from her darkest dreams.

  Chapter 9

  The moment she saw him walk through the front door, she knew he’d changed.

  Setting out a cup of coffee for him, she flipped through the paper in the silence of the morning. The sun was just beginning to turn the sky from jet to indigo, the world stirring for another day, birds already chirping. She wasn’t able to sleep for some reason.

  Perhaps it was the fact Troy seemed shaken by something. It weighed on her, for she knew her husband. While he didn’t seem upset per se, there was something occupying his thoughts.

  It was easier, in a way, for her to focus on what it was. For it allowed her to distract herself from worrying about Hunter. She had an increasing sense of dread regarding he and Sara. She wasn’t sure anymore that telling his wife what he really wanted was the best idea after all.

  Though she couldn’t put her finger on it, Lacey suspected a woman as self-absorbed as Sara… might not be equipped for that sort of splash of reality.

  “Not your show, Lacey. Not your husband.” She warmed her hands around her mug, idly picking at the chipped section of the handle with her thumbnail.

  Bitch doesn’t deserve him.

  She listened to the creak of the risers as Troy walked downstairs, and she allowed herself a tiny smile at having him home again. She winced as her arm brushed her boob, a reminder that having Troy home again was indeed a double-edged sword.

  One she gladly accepted.

  He kissed the top of her head as he padded into the kitchen, his WSU T-shirt stretched over his broad chest. The patterned green and black striped warm-ups perfectly showcased his tight ass, and she snuck a glance back at it as he reached over the counter to drop a couple of slices of rye into the toaster.

  The stirring deep in her belly made her sigh.

  Down, girl.

  “How was the little jaunt?”

  He turned around and leaned a hip against the edge of the counter, his fingers drumming on the granite. “I knew this was a beautiful state, but… Jesus, Lace, it was like it was a town right out of a postcard. No wonder nobody knows about it. I wouldn’t tell a soul if I lived there either.”

  “You meet Von out there?”

  “Um hm.” Troy turned his seat around then sat down, straddling it, his arms perched along the top of the chair back. “Dude’s got a good thing going out there, that’s for sure.”

  “Are we really going to talk about the scenery?” She knew better than to think Troy had any intention of driving six hours to the other side of the mountains for mere sight-seeing. There was something else going on here.

  He grunted, a hint of a smile as he sipped. “You know how we live, the way we live?”

  “Of course.”

  “This town… the whole place believes the same thing. They’re — how do I say this? They’re into it. Really, really into it.”

  “I don’t know what that means, Troy.” She looked directly at him. “What happened? Something is… bothering you. Was it that place? Von?”

  The thought that he’d met someone else was an absurd one. She trusted Troy more than any person on Earth… but it was there nonetheless.

  “I’m still not entirely sure what I think of it. It was like the most comfortable place, and at the same time, this… most alien place I’ve ever been. I think it was just a lot to take in. The people are great — you’d love Von. I didn’t get a chance to meet his wife — out of town on business, I guess — but I met a few others. You’d… maybe you need to see for yourself.”

  “So, you’re saying you liked it?”

  “Wanna move?”

  She giggled, setting down her coffee and wiping her lips with a napkin, trying to ignore the way even the movement of her night shirt over her nipples made them stand up. The clamps, though they’d numbed her flesh at the time, seemed to have left the tight tips insanely sensitive. It was almost too much.

  Almost.

  She met Troy’s gaze, noting the sober intensity in his gorgeous eyes, and her mirth drained away. “Oh. Y-you’re serious?”

  He shrugged, but he didn’t look away. “Might be good to see it in person. See how you feel about it.”

  “You think that’s a good idea?”

  The thought of taking a little road trip with her husband was exciting, her many fond memories of their trips together when they first met were still fresh in her mind. They’d driven cross-country more than once, and she swore he’d fucked her in every hotel room along the entirety of I-70.

  “Is it a good idea?” He shook his head slowly, his gaze sliding toward the kitchen window, the light of the morning brightening now. “I suppose that depends on what you think. I love the place… but I know it’s entirely possible you’ll run screaming once you experience it.”

  “That bad?” She took up her cup again, her mouth suddenly dry. “Just what happens there? Are all the men there… like you?”

  “Disciplinarians? Don’t know. More than a few are, I’d guess. Do the men call the shots with their women? Definitely. It’s to the point that I didn’t know a place like this could even exist outside of a fantasy novel. Pretty surreal.”

  “Oh… wow.”

  “Yeah, you can say that again.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I need to head into work, but… think about if you’d like to take a trip. I can have my mom watch Hayden, spare Hunt and Sara from a night with the hellion.”

  “I…okay.”

  “You look like you’re dying to say something.”

  Oh, but I am.

  Hunter’s smiling face immediately appeared in her mind… along with the smirking image of his wife. Oil and water.

  But it wasn’t that time… yet.

  “Can you tell me something? Why do you think I should visit?”

  His finger played about the rim of his mug as he mulled it over. “You know, it’s a good question. I think I want to see if it’s the right sort of place for you — and if you’re the right sort of girl for it.”

  “Are you the right sort of person for this town?”

  Tension suddenly snuck into her limbs as
she waited for his answer, even though she really didn’t know what it was she wanted him to say.

  “Honey, if we weren’t married, I’d already be packing my bags.” His grin beamed bright.

  “Troy!” She playfully slapped him on the shoulder as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

  Then his smile faded. “Seriously though? It’s like something out of a twisted dream. A wet one. Makes me wonder if it’s too much of a good thing.”

  * * *

  Lacey was loading the last bags of groceries into the back of the truck when her phone went off. She pulled it out of her purse, cursing as a fat raindrop splatted on the bright screen. She looked up at the gray sky. It was about to dump.

  “Hunter?”

  “Lacey, I fucked it all up.”

  The desperate hopelessness in his voice had her heart clenching. “Wait, what’s going on?”

  She knew it even before the words had left his mouth.

  “I told her. It… she just walked out the front door. Wouldn’t say a thing. Fuck.”

  “Oh, Jesus, Hunter, I’m so sorry!”

  She’s wrong for you, Hunter. Good riddance.

  For a terrifying split second, she was certain she’d said it out loud. It was the last thing he needed at that moment. Now was not the time to tell him she was a bitch who didn’t deserve a guy like him.

  No matter how true it might have been.

  “She didn’t… she didn’t leave leave, did she? She answering her phone?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t even tried it. I’m too pissed off. I feel like if I talk to her now… only gonna make it worse. I was fucking stupid to tell her.”

  “It would have been stupid — not to mention tragic — for you to hide something that important from your wife. How would you feel if you’d lived twenty years with her and never let her know how you really are?”

  “Shitty — kinda like I do now.”

  “Better to have gotten it over with now than realize you lost two decades to a woman who was…”

  “Who was what?”

  Then she wanted to tell him, the words crowding at the tip of her tongue, begging to be released, pleading to let her tell the truth of things.