Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  A tap of the rubber length against her now throbbing anus had her tensing again.

  “Relax them. You can’t spread properly with that clenching. Present your bottom properly, Lacey.”

  “Y-yes, sir.” A tear spilled over, dropping to the floor below, as she pried her buttocks even further apart. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know, dear. Be strong now.”

  One, two, three strokes followed, painting stinging hurt upon the tender entrance to her bottom, the soft, vulnerable flesh like fire now. She bit down a cry at the last two, managing to keep hold of her buttocks but unable to suppress the writhing of her hips against the unmovable leather-covered bar she was draped over.

  His fingers touched and caressed her burning anus. “Nice and red now. Swollen a little too. Hurt?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Too much?”

  She swallowed down a protest, two more tears plummeting toward the carpet. “No, sir.”

  “Good.” The rubber implement stroked the side of her hip slowly. “You did well with that, Lace. Very well.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Though she knew she shouldn’t think in such a way, his praise helped. It didn’t change the fact it hurt like hell, but she wanted to please him — even if the cause of his approval was simply being obedient while he harshly punished her ass.

  She knew it made no sense. She wanted him to punish her quite harshly, she needed him to take her past what she thought she could take.

  And yet, she wanted him to be pleased with the way she behaved while he laid down pure hell across her naked, subjugated flesh.

  It didn’t have to make sense though. It was a need both satisfied in the other, pieces that could only fit together one way.

  A match of dark, twisted perfection.

  The pat of his palm against her still-warm bottom brought her back to the present. “Up on the bed, girl. I want you as far down toward the foot of the bed as you can get. Hands and knees.”

  She straightened, her head spinning for one second as she pushed away from the bar. He spun her around, cupping her chin in his big palm, easing it up as his dark eyes regarded her. She saw his raw lust in their depths, but there was also warmth in them, a deep pleasure at what he was doing — and what he was forcing her to do.

  “You’re okay. We’re okay.” He kissed her lips. “You’re a good girl.”

  It was quick, light, not much more than a peck, but in that tiny gesture of affection, she found the renewal of that connection, that affirmation that he was here with her, no matter what happened.

  That he’d never make her take more than she was ready for.

  The cleft of her bottom seething, but her heart soaring, she clambered onto the mattress, positioning her knees near the very end of the bed, her naked feet dangling over the edge.

  “Knees wide. Now stay very still.”

  She tried to peek over her shoulder at him, but he slapped her bottom hard, making her yelp. “Eyes forward.”

  Snapping her head around to stare at the massive headboard, she tried to calm her breathing as she waited, her breasts, heavy and swollen with her arousal, swaying gently below her. He walked into their bathroom then, leaving her bottom up on their huge bed, the carved wood of the posts her only company in the quiet room. What was he up to?

  Nothing good, that’s what.

  Unfamiliar rustling and bumps sounded behind her, then the gentle lilt of running water from the bathroom. Troy’s soft sound of appreciation of the tableau she presented for him, perched quietly on their marriage bed, was her confirmation that he was back with her once more.

  The backs of his hands brushed her inner thighs as he slid something across the comforter below her. She looked down between her pendulous breasts, and gasped.

  It was a thick, black towel. That could mean only one thing.

  Oh, dear God.

  “Troy — sir — what are you…?”

  “Oh, I think you know.”

  Her blood froze at the impish glee in his deep voice.

  Before she could say another word, cold wetness was slapped onto her still throbbing anus, his finger ensuring it was well-coated before he took hold of her ass cheek. “Push out.”

  The lubricated tip of his finger pushed in immediately, and he pulled it out, only to plunge in once more, slipping more cool wetness deep into her body.

  She was already shaking before the familiar blunt nose of the bung was presented to her entrance. “This will ensure you don’t expel until I want you to. Relax that bottom, dear.”

  “Troy… oh Jesus,” she hissed as the cold rubber spread her open, plugging her anus snugly. He advanced and retreated the rubber far more than he needed to, making a pleased sound at her sharp intake of breath at each new stretching open of the throbbing muscle. “I think this will do just fine. Are you ready to be a good girl for me?”

  “Yes… I don’t know what—”

  “This is part of your punishment, Lacey. We’re not even close to done dealing with this bottomhole of yours, trust me on that.”

  He did not give her many enemas, but when he did, it was never — ever — pleasant. She knew this instance would be no different.

  “You don’t like this, do you?”

  “No, sir.” She only just managed to keep the vehemence out of her voice.

  “Why? I want you to tell me.”

  Oh, please don’t make me!

  “I’m waiting, Lace. I want you to say it.”

  “I… it’s, well, it’s dirty. It’s embarrassing.” She shuddered again as he pressed the rubber plug deep again. “It’s private.”

  He laughed softly, caressing the curve of her ass. “There isn’t a single thing dirty about you, beautiful. Disobedient, defiant — maybe even a little stubborn? Yes.” He pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the crowns of both of her buttocks. “But never dirty.”

  He walked around from behind, sitting on the heavy chest at the foot of the bed, stroking the line of her back with his fingertips.

  She turned her face toward him, her teeth worrying her lip.

  He beamed at her. “As for private? You know there’s nothing I allow you to hide from me. Nothing. Not even this.”

  With a fond pat to her bottom, he rose, moving out of the line of her sight. She snuck a glance behind her, her heart in her throat as she saw, hanging high upon one of the posts, a clear bag filled with sudsy liquid, a hose descending from the bottom of it to drape over one of her hips. The hook at the top of the bag hung from one of the gleaming steel rings affixed at strategic places up and down the lengths of each of the bed posts.

  The click behind her heralded the flow entering her bowels, the feeling alien and humiliating both, the muffled sounds of the water draining only heightening her embarrassment.

  “That’s good. This first one isn’t too bad. You can take it.”

  First one?

  He stood behind her in silence as her bottom drank down its bitter fill. Her embarrassment kept her from looking behind her as the bag emptied, the pressure building in her belly. The first gurgle made her whimper, her head hanging down, her cheeks burning.

  “It’s okay, girl, almost all of it’s in now. Just a little more.”

  Then it was empty, and he sat upon the bed next to her.

  “I think ten minutes should do.”

  “Please, Troy!”

  “You’ve taken longer before.”

  Knowing further argument was likely to get her into more trouble, she looked away, grateful for the concealment her long hair afforded her, at least partially shielding the shame burning upon her cheeks.

  She couldn’t help but notice the huge bulge at the crotch of his jeans as he gently stroked the swollen curve of her belly, cooing softly to her each time a mortifying gurgle sounded in the quiet room. The first cramp took her by surprise — as they always did — and she bit off a cry at the discomfort.

  “You never look more beautiful than when you’re in distress,” he
murmured, seemingly to himself, his big hand smoothing leisurely over the prominence of his genitals. “I’m going to hell for thinking it, but it’s the hottest fucking thing on earth.”

  She stayed silent, but was unable to peel her gaze from his presented arousal. As if responding to her frank appraisal, he unbuttoned his fly, pulling the heavy shaft of his cock free, stroking it to a long, thick erection.

  Her mouth began to water as she stared at his huge fist stroking up and down the length, his grip tight, the congested veins of his penis swelling visibly as he squeezed it at the top, the broad head an angry crimson. He said nothing as he worked his cock, as if content to torment her in silence as he took his selfish pleasure in her subjugation, her debasement. Soon enough, the tip wept clear fluid, and he seemed to take great pleasure in collecting it upon the tips of his fingers, and repeatedly painting her lips with it. The scent of his arousal was all around her, and she tasted his essence, even as the cramps began coming on stronger and stronger.

  At last, he gave her a small nod. “I think time’s about up.”

  Sliding off the bed, he rested a heavy hand on her hip, tugging at the plug. “Clench that bottom as I pull this out. I don’t want a drop spilled. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied with a frantic whisper.

  Then the rubber plug was gone, and she tightened desperately, praying she’d avoid shaming herself still further. His murmur was pleased as he stood up, patting her hip fondly.

  “You may void, dear.”

  She dashed off the bed, holding her belly with one hand, running to the bathroom. As she sat down upon the toilet, she held her head in her hands, the shaming sounds loud in the tiled room.

  Cleaning herself up, she walked back out to her waiting husband, her legs like jelly, her belly roiling with both nerves and the remnants of her dose. He stood leaning a shoulder against the bed post, the deflated bag hanging next to him. His very hard, very erect cock jutted blatantly from his open fly, the dark hair on his flat, muscled belly just hinted at below the hem of his black shirt.

  “Back on the bed now. Time for your second dose.”

  “Please, Troy, I… don’t need any more.” She said it even as she climbed upon the mattress.

  Miraculously, he seemed to take her little objection in stride, perhaps regarding it as something she couldn’t really help. “That’s a girl, hands and knees again. Same spot. Wait right there.”

  She hung her head as she listened to the sounds of running water once more from the bathroom. Swallowing down a whimper as he slicked up her bottomhole once more, she let out a long shaky breath as he pushed the cool plug home, her sphincter squeezing involuntarily tight.

  “Get ready,” he rumbled, slapping a hand upon her hip, the tell-tale clicking sounding immediately after.

  The fluid was warmer this time, and unlike the first dose, cramping began almost immediately, making her gasp as her insides registered their protest.

  “More soap this time, my dear. Try to breathe through the cramping. I want you to hold this for fifteen.”

  “Fifteen! Please!”

  “Are you refusing, girl?”

  He palmed one of her buttocks, gripping her firmly, waiting for her response.

  Though it would have been a lie for her to say she hadn’t considered it, she shook her head slowly, her words a mere pained whisper. “No, sir. I’ll…I’ll obey.”

  “Good girl,” he said, caressing her bottom. “I’m proud of you.”

  As they waited in silence for the rest of the fluid to drain into her bowels, she winced at the audible roiling sounds accompanying her body taking the full measure of what felt like a very large dose indeed. Pronouncing the bag depleted, he took a seat next to her once again, sitting closer to allow him to stroke the dramatic bulge of her belly hanging below her.

  “Please, sir. It…hurts.” She hissed, a strong cramp rippling through her bowels. “God!”

  “You can do this. Just breathe, girl.” She tried to calm her panting, sweat breaking out upon her upper lip, her cleavage growing humid and slick with perspiration.

  Just breathe. Breathe.

  She was begging at the end, an inchoate pleading he dismissed with indulgent smiles, and slow shakes of his head. Blessedly, the fifteen minutes came to an end and he dismissed her to the bathroom with a smack to her ass. “Don’t dawdle.”

  Her entire body trembling with nerves, her gaze never left the floor as she padded back out to him, her face aflame with her blushing. “Please, sir. Please. No more, please.”

  He stroked the hair from her humid forehead, kissing her locks. “All done with your enema, sweetie. I think you need some time to think though.”

  What?

  She looked up at him, her heart beginning to gallop, realizing her ordeal wasn’t yet at an end.

  He grinned down at her, his eyes glittering, his muscled forearm rippling as he stroked his cock languidly. “Time to go to your corner, bad girl.”

  * * *

  The crestfallen look on her blushing face only made his cock swell even more, his chest tight with his arousal.

  As she began to shuffle dejectedly toward her waiting corner, he suddenly remembered an item he wanted to try. Grabbing her by the upper arm, he directed her back to the padded bar instead.

  With a palm planted between her delicate shoulder blades, he folded her over it, her wild eyes looking back at him, confusion in her gorgeous gaze as he forced her to bend.

  “Just wait here,” he growled. “You’ll be fine. Grasp your ankles and be still.”

  He’d ordered the oil from a spanking and corporal punishment paraphernalia site Von had recommended to him. This particular formula was infused with pure ginger, and it was supposed to be quite effective in the absence of an actual ginger fig, and indeed was purportedly even hotter when applied to certain sensitive portions of the anatomy.

  Retrieving it from the bathroom mirror cabinet, he found her just where he’d left her, her round bottom blushing brightly, her gorgeous thighs tense and trembling. Her position partially exposed the cleft between her cheeks, the stark pink lines left from the whip still pleasingly visible across her pale flesh. Her little anus, struck several times directly by the viper tip of the rubber implement, was still quite red from both the punishment and the multiple enemas.

  There was more in store for that adorable bottomhole.

  She jerked as he perched the glass jar atop the crown of one of her buttocks.

  “Don’t move, girl. We don’t want to spill your hot oil, do we?”

  Lacey made a frightened, confused sound, but had the sense to obey him, growing quite still as he dipped the brush into the thick liquid.

  Using a hand to pry one buttock away from its twin, he spread the clear fluid over her cringing asshole, her buttocks trying to draw closed as the ginger immediately worked upon the inflamed tissues.

  “What? Troy, that… oh my God, it’s burning!”

  “That’s the idea.” He recharged the brush, letting her cheeks close, curious what she’d do.

  Instantly, she clenched her bottom tight, her cleft reducing to a thin line. Then she gasped, her hips shaking, her bottom relaxing, the lush globes wobbling as she hopped up and down, even in the awkward position.

  He slapped her ass, hard, enjoying the bloom of the angry crimson handprint upon the flushed, smooth skin, the blow making her ass ripple pleasingly. “Stop that dancing, girl.”

  “I… can’t!”

  “You’ve got two choices. You can keep squeezing — which as you just found out, only makes it worse. Or you can keep yourself spread obediently for your husband, and spare yourself at least the worst of the heat. Which is it going to be?”

  Her hands instantly reached back, hauling her buttocks wide open, the exposed anus gleaming brightly with the ginger oil. “Oh, my God. Burns!”

  “Then it’s working as it should, sweetie.” He brushed more oil upon her anus, then up into her cleft, knowing it would
sting the welts there too. Lacey squealed as he applied it, but managed to stay in place, no doubt knowing he’d make it worse if she broke position.

  “Up you go now.” He drew her upright again by a fistful of her hair. He was pleased to note she still obediently clutched her bottom cheeks, displaying her glistening, inflamed anus. With a loud, harsh smack to her ass, he released her. “Into your corner now.”

  The sight of her forlornly looking over her shoulder at him before pressing her nose to the corner almost had him coming in his pants right there. Few things were sweeter than an intimately applied, and diabolically effective, punishment given to your yielding, submissive wife.

  But he wasn’t done.

  Setting the ginger oil on the floor, where she could see it clearly — and know it was easily at hand should be need to apply more of it — he stood behind her, taking in the silent form of his humbled wife. There was something about seeing her waiting quietly in her corner that provoked, that called to him to keep at her, to amplify her surrender to his will, no matter how selfish it may be.

  “Put your arms on each wall, and shuffle away from the corner.”

  She seemed confused as to what he wanted, so he took hold of her cool hips, and yanked them back. “Bend over. More. Now, lean your forearms along each wall.”

  She grunted, frustrated, trying to find a position she could hold. “I… I don’t think I can.”

  He drank in the shake and shiver of her bottom cheeks as she shifted her feet. It was a truly awkward position — which was entirely the point.

  He sighed with mock exasperation. “Since you can’t follow directions, I’ve changed my mind. Squat down. Right where you are.”

  She chanced a puzzled glance back at him, which made him growl.

  “Eyes on your corner, bad girl.” He slapped her ass, and she bit off a yelp. “Do as you’re told. Or we can add more of your oil to that asshole of yours.”

  “No! Okay…I’m…”

  She dropped down, seemingly unsure where to put her hands, settling for resting them upon her bent knees.