by Trent Evans
Von didn’t say anything for a moment, then his voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur. “Look, you and I — we know women like this. Hell, we’re married to them. Think about it, knowing what we know about their needs, what turns them on? What they masturbate to? Christ, have you ever seen what she reads? If they’re anything like my wife’s books, they’ll make your fucking jaw hit the floor.”
Troy chuckled. “Yep, I’ve seen ‘em. I’m not complaining”
“Neither am I. But the point is: they want more. They always want more, even if they wouldn’t be caught dead saying it. Maybe Lacey doesn’t realize that there can be more? Did you, when you were here?”
“I had no clue. Not one. I still have trouble believing it.”
“Believe it, Troy. And I only gave you a taste, a little sampler. This place… it’s unreal, dude. It even surprises me sometimes, and I fucking live here.”
“Okay, so what do we do then?”
“That mean you’re moving?”
“Hypothetically, asshole.”
“I think it’s time she visits. Don’t you? It sounds interesting in theory, right? But when you see it? Experience it? It’s a whole different thing. Tell me you weren’t thinking about calling Lacey and telling her you were never coming home? I saw you.”
“I’d never go anywhere without her. Never.” He took a deep breath, the very thought of being apart from her making him uneasy, even irritable. She was everything — and wherever she was — Troy would be right there with her. He’d follow Lacey to the gates of Hell if he had to.
“I understand that — and I respect it. Seriously. That sort of connection… it’s actually what we’re all about here. We just like to indulge in a few… enhancements.”
“Jesus,” Troy muttered, shaking his head despite his grin. “Understatement of the fucking century, right there.”
“So, put on your sales hat and sell her ass on a visit here. I guarantee, she’ll be blown away. This place was made for people like us, yes, but it’s a dream come true for women like her too.”
“Or a nightmare.”
“Not if you’re there with her.”
Troy sighed. “Look, there’s… something else. I can’t put my finger on it. Something up with Lacey. My friend — our friend — Hunter, he’s… well, long story short, she’s trying to be there for him. And I think it’s getting to her. Like, to the point it would keep her here even if I could talk her into a tour of Perv Disneyland you’ve got going up there.”
“So, fix it, Sarge. You’re good at that sort of thing.” There was a noise on the other end, Von’s voice muffling for a moment. “Hey, I gotta go. You can do this. Convince her. You do that, and you and I both know it will be the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you. And Lacey.”
Chapter 12
“Thanks for tagging along with me, Hunter.” She steered her cart through the obstacle course of harried mothers, and shrieking children, the dinner rush filling the supermarket to near-bursting. The cereal aisle was always the worst.
“Why no kiddo tonight? Was kinda looking forward to seeing the little guy.”
Lacey sighed, blowing her hair out of her face, the messy ponytail she’d pulled it into already coming apart. “Hayden is in such a shitty mood today. Troy’s working late tonight so I convinced Mom to take her grandson for a while. Nice to have some adult company, for a little bit.”
“It’s cool.” He strolled along next to her, one of the battered black plastic grocery baskets swinging from his fist, his long legs taking one stride for every two of hers. “Troy asked if I minded going to the store with you since he was stuck at the office.” He gave her a quick, dazzling grin. “Not exactly an imposition hanging around with you. Needed a few things anyway.”
“Sara not taking care of you?” She bumped his hip with hers.
He grunted, the twist of his wan smile signaling something more than mirth. “I’m on a solo mission. She’s out of town for at least a week.” He plucked a box from the shelf, dropping it in his basket. “I don’t do this, I starve.”
“Not if you’d fricking come over and eat with us, you wouldn’t!”
The truth was, she’d have him over every night if she thought Sara would go for it. Troy was totally okay with it, but she knew Hunter’s wife would see it as a threat.
Would she be wrong in that?
The woman was away on business so much, it hardly seemed like she was married anymore. Lacey couldn’t imagine how it made Hunter feel. Especially considering what he’d recently confessed to his wife. Her pulling away wasn’t likely the reaction he’d been looking for when baring his soul to Sara.
“Once in a while is fine, Lace. Every day? Yeah, I’m a big boy — and Sara…”
“I know, I know.” She navigated the cart to the shortest checkout line she could find, zipping in behind a cute old woman wearing a brilliant red patterned hair scarf. The woman perused the tabloid rack with an intense interest.
The line was still eight people deep in front of her. They weren’t getting out of there anytime soon.
“How are… things? Any better?”
Hunter’s gaze slid away, his veined fingers clenching the handle of his basket tighter. “Not so hot.”
Shit.
She didn’t feel it though. Not in the least. What kind of woman — what kind of friend — acted like this? She knew she should have felt bad about the news, but instead all she felt was hopeful he’d finally grow sick of it and ditch his wife.
The wrong wife is worse than no wife at all.
Wasn’t that what her father had repeatedly drilled into her? He’d always admonished Lacey never to pick a man because he was convenient, at hand, good enough. She needed to find the one that fit her, in every way — and then she’d found Troy Warren. And she’d never been more glad she’d listened to her father.
Now, she needed to help their friend find the same thing. Sara damn sure wasn’t going to fit the bill for the adorable Hunter.
Adorable? You need to stop this shit.
“Things are… getting worse. I think. I hardly see her, and even when she isn’t at work, it’s like the lights are on but nobody’s home.”
She peered up at him, murmuring. “Is she… are you guys…?”
Hunter snorted, giving her a resigned shake of his head. “Please. Iced out.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry.” She touched his shoulder, stroking it gently, trying to ignore the urge to do a lot more. The image of cradling his head against her breasts, comforting him, her fingers lightly gliding through his hair, had her drawing a sharp breath, her nipples gathering to tight points.
Stop it, you idiot!
“Maybe I can patch things up when she gets back.”
There was even less conviction in his eyes than there was in his words.
“What about… just letting her have her space?” She hoped her words didn’t sound as hollow as they felt. “Think it through?”
He shrugged. “I know now it was a mistake to tell her. Not only isn't she kinky, but it's… driven a wedge between us. I think it’s something she avoids rather than wanting to talk to me about it. Stupid of me.”
Lacey's heart broke for him at the stark hurt she saw in his gaze. And that hurt caused a surge of anger to well within her at what Sara was putting him through. It shouldn’t be Hunter who suffered just because Sara couldn’t see what a wonderful man she had on her hands.
How many women would kill to have their husband make the kind of confession he had? Weren’t women always lamenting the fact men never wanted to talk, to communicate what they were feeling inside?
Well, he shouldn’t have been punished for having the courage to tell Sara what he really wanted. What the man was.
“I probably shouldn’t say this — they’d burn my feminist card right in front of my face. But I think it’s the truth — at least as I see it. You need a woman who will respect you, and obey you.”
Hunter’s eyes went wide at that.
“A woman who will love you — for you. A woman who can be all the things a guy like you needs. Someone who can accept, and… enjoy doing the things you want. Even the... darker things.”
Only the little old lady was ahead of them now. She’d decided on a copy of The Sun.
Hunter set his basket down on the black conveyor belt of the check stand. “Why can’t I just be… normal?”
“Said every kinky person ever.” Lacey slapped his chest gently with the back of her hand. “Come eat with us tonight.”
“I think I’m gonna pass.”
“I’m making spaghetti. You love my spaghetti.”
He nodded, chuckling. “True. But what I don’t love is torturing myself with thinking about the injustice of knowing what I want, but knowing I can never have it.”
“You mean Sara?”
He met her eyes, a tiny glint of mischief dancing in their dark depths. “Did I say that?”
She blinked, her mouth falling open. “Oh.”
They didn’t say another word as the checker scanned their groceries, the long silence taking on an uncomfortable awkwardness by the time they were walking out to the parking lot. Hunter helped her load her things, then headed for his truck, parked three spaces down.
Lacey leaned an elbow against her hood, hoping the cool autumn breeze wasn’t putting her nipples on high-beam. The thin knit top wasn’t the best idea that time of year. “Hunter, you sure you can’t come over for dinner? I’ll even let you throw your food around like Hayden does.”
He laughed, opening the mud-encrusted door to the huge pickup, and climbing in. But he didn’t shut it, meeting her gaze instead. For a breath, he merely looked at her, his head tilted slightly. “What you said in there. About the things you think I need. What sort of girl would that be, exactly?”
She knew she shouldn’t have said it, but the words tumbled from her lips anyway.
“Well, probably someone more like me.”
Though his eyebrows shot up, he gave her a warm smile. “I should be so lucky. Have a good night, Lace.”
Chapter 13
He found her in the front hallway, on her knees scrubbing the tile. He was hours early for her appointment with discipline. He wanted to catch her by surprise, off-guard, a state in which his Lacey was sweetest.
She didn’t realize he was there at first, so he watched her, the alluring, stunning curves of her hips. The light gray yoga pants — he often wondered if they’d been invented simply to torture ass-obsessed men like him — were like a second skin on her, dividing and displaying each of her luscious buttocks just as blatantly as if she’d been naked.
Which she would be in moments.
The old, worn white button-down shirt she wore was one of several she preferred to don when cleaning. She liked not worrying about bleaching her clothing.
He knew she liked even more that his old shirts still smelled like her husband.
Head turning, her dark eyes wild, she drew in a sharp breath, the length of her hair, caught up in a ponytail, shivering ever so slightly as she looked up at him.
Her lips moved but he pressed a finger to them, dropping to one knee. Those lips moved against his skin and he shook his head, staring at her.
Understanding dawned, and she sat up, her bottom upon her heels. Standing over her for a heartbeat, he drank her in, her quiet obedience already rendering the length of his cock into throbbing iron.
Taking hold of that cute ponytail, he hauled her to her feet, a tiny whimper escaping her lips. He held her by that length of silky locks, wrenching her chin up, exposing her vulnerable throat to him as he tasted the sweat upon her skin, licking and sucking at the hollow under her jaw.
Lacey’s breath was already a quick pant as he grasped the opening at the top of her shirt. He yanked down savagely, the sound of tearing fabric rending the quiet of the hallway, buttons snapping, arcing through the air, clattering to the floor to spin wildly upon the tile. Ripe breasts heaved, the nipples dark bullets, as he tore the ruined shirt from each of her shoulders in turn.
Pulling her close, he took her mouth with his, tasting her excitement, her uncertainty, her anxiousness at what he might do to her next. Stealing her breath from her, he sucked upon her lips, her tongue, nipping her with his teeth until she moaned.
She jerked as he clamped her breast in a strong grip, her long, wavering sigh accompanying his lips closing around one of her hard nipples. He drew upon it furiously, biting, tasting, claiming, pulling its twin to his mouth, subjecting it to the same savage attentions. He looked up at her as he laved each tortured bud with the broadness of his tongue, watched the way her swollen, red lips formed into a silent O as he sucked the hard tips deeply into his mouth once more.
The words were whispered against her flesh, as he worried her reddened nipples with the edges of his teeth. “You do exactly as you’re told, Lacey girl. You speak only when spoken to. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice little more than a squeak.
It was time.
Dragging her by the hair, she stumbled down the hallway after him. He pulled her into the living room, making her stand before him as he sat upon the couch. Her generous breasts rose and fell rapidly with her breathing, the stone hard nipples bright with his saliva, well-reddened from the attentions of his lips and teeth. He met her frightened eyes. “Take ‘em down.”
Her trembling fingers hooked into the thin gray fabric, exposing her plump mound, the thick, dark curls he’d allowed her. He grasped her wrist when the yoga pants bunched at her knees. “That’s enough. Hands on your head.”
Her perfect white teeth nibbled her wet, red lip as she waited, as he took in the pleasing sight of her naked sex displayed between pale, quaking thighs.
“You know what today is?”
Her pretty brows knitting together, she nodded.
“Say it.”
“Maintenance… sir.”
“More specific. You know what’s expected of you. What is the focus of today’s maintenance? What part of you is going to be punished until those beautiful tears are streaming down your cheeks?”
Her face went pale. “M-my pussy.”
Reaching out, slapping her mound, making her yelp. She wisely held position though. “Is that the correct term? Say the word, Lacey.”
“My… cunt.”
“Louder.”
“My cunt!” Color burst high in her cheeks as he grinned at her.
“That’s right.” He stroked her there, circling the already engorged clit, caressing the soft wetness of her slit. “It’s already dripping, even though I intend to hurt it today. What does that say about you?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Her frantic eyes searched his, the confusion he saw there making his cock ache.
“Oh, I think we both know, don’t we? You fear the pain — but part of you likes it.” He grasped her pussy, squeezing it firmly. “This likes it very much indeed.”
She shook her head, but kept her hands submerged in her hair, her pretty little biceps twitching. He slipped two fingers inside her, and she took her lip between her teeth.
“No? We’ll see about that, Lacey girl. Your dripping, swollen cunt always tells the truth.”
He stared at the sweet, vulnerable sex, the way the dark pubic hair lay flat over the curve of her mound, the spicy scent of her arousal already strong. It would be much stronger before he finished with her.
Taking hold of one smooth hip, he slapped his fingers against the soft, wet lips, making her yelp. “Legs wider — as far as you can.”
The gray yoga pants, the white lace thong bunched within it, spanned her knees tightly, allowing him a little more room to work.
He commenced smacking her pussy methodically, Lacey whimpering now and then as he caught her with a particularly harsh blow. He made sure to snap the ends of his fingers against those vulnerable lips, that hardened, swollen clit still hiding beneath its hood.
Satisfied with a slit alre
ady flushing pink, the lips even more swollen, he slicked back that hood, exposing her erect, prominent clitoris to the cool air. He plunged two fingers up into her, sinking them in until her weight tried to raise up on his knuckles. He worked them in and out, faster and faster, until her hips began to rotate, her eyes rolling back.
Then he pulled them free, wiping her stickiness across her thigh.
She was breathing frantically as he leaned close, her eyes watching him intently. He smiled up at her before pushing his tongue deep between her blazing labia, tasting her slightly salty, fragrant heat, his nose rasping upon her pubic hair. Licking up and down the length of her, he sampled every inch of her sex, thrusting his tongue repeatedly, driving as deep as he could, until her moans were continuous.
Then he stopped again.
“Oh God, please…”
“You want to come, don’t you, slut?” He tightened his grip on her.
“Yes, sir.”
“And am I going to let you come? Hmm?” He flicked her hood, and her hips jerked.
“N-no, sir.”
“That’s right, I’m not.”
Her head drooped.
“Eyes up!” He slapped her hip several times until she obeyed, her eyes looking straight ahead, her tears already threatening. “Good girl.”
He drew the clamps from his pocket, trying to ignore the steel bar of pure need tenting the front of his slacks. The clamps were quite small, with black rubber tips, but they were perfect for what he had in mind. Taking hold of one of her soft outer labia, he pulled at it gently, luxuriating in the feel of her vulnerability, at the way her body shuddered once she saw the clamps in his palm. She hissed as he affixed the first one, the labia stretched slightly by the weight of the steel, the pinch making her breathing come even faster.
A tight whimper slipped from her lips as he clamped the other side, her sex now held quite open.
“Oh no,” she yelped as he slicked back her hood, a third, smaller clip between finger and thumb. He circled the sweet, swollen bud with his fingertips, working her faster and faster, until she was gasping, her hips bucking and writhing against his hand.