Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  She was scared.

  But if he knew his submissive — and wanton — wife, he knew she was deeply aroused too.

  * * *

  “Von’s guest house is bigger than our regular house.”

  Cradled in Troy’s arms, exhausted but content in the heavy white terrycloth robe, Lacey snuggled against her husband’s comforting strength.

  “Dude’s got a lot more going here than I’d guessed.”

  Icy rain pattered against the windows, a single recessed light over the entrance to the adjoining bathroom the only illumination keeping the dark at bay.

  They’d barely been able to keep their hands to themselves as they’d quietly slipped away from the little scene outside, the enforced display of Candice’s nude form apparently having the same effect on both she and Troy.

  Approximately one nanosecond after dragging her to the guest house, the front door closing behind them, he’d been deep inside her. For the next three hours, he’d proceeded to fuck her nearly unconscious, the two of them sharing a languid bath afterward when they’d finally slaked their lust with one another. They’d nearly drifted off in the warm water, so wrung out had their lusty encounter left them, before Troy had deposited her on the bed, the gorgeous robes wrapping them both.

  “I just… I don’t think I really believed you. The way you’d described this place.”

  “Thought I was exaggerating?” Troy’s low chuckle rumbled under her ear, her head laid upon his chest. “I don’t think it’s possible to exaggerate this shit.”

  So many images swirled in her mind, the meaning of them almost as confusing as her visceral, aroused reaction to all of them. In ways subtle and blatant, she’d absorbed the ethos of the town, a singular, central theme underlying all of it — and every person they’d met — the past two days.

  Submission.

  But rather than be threatened by that truth, it was quite something else. Maybe it was because everyone seemed happy there — they’d seen more smiles in two days than they did in a year back home. Yes, it was way, way over the top, that an entire community would live this way, but really, it was only a difference in degree.

  It wasn’t unknown for some communities to have some common purpose, perhaps requiring the evocation of a certain look. The town of Leavenworth to the southwest had an amazing Bavarian theme to the entire place. Was White Valley that much different?

  Of course, you idiot!

  Perhaps, but it was by no means beyond the pale, especially if everyone who was there was there by choice. Could she really call it female subjugation if every woman there had volunteered for the experience?

  She wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that question either. Most likely, she was still too close to it to even be able to think rationally.

  “I figured you’d be peppering me with questions by now.” Troy’s fingertip traced the curve of her ear, and it made her shiver. “Should I be jumping for joy at the fact you’re not — or crying in my beer?”

  “It’s just…”

  “Overwhelming?” He kissed her hair. “Yeah, I get it. Believe me.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not pressuring me to move?” She nuzzled his chest playfully.

  “Well, there was this little, ah, job offer…”

  She raised her head, looking up at him. “Are… are you serious?”

  He nodded, a pensiveness to the set of his mouth she wasn’t used to seeing on her usually über confident husband.

  “Pay is almost double, and it’s an area I’ve wanted to get into for a while. Could be the perfect opportunity.”

  “We still talking about the job?”

  His dark eyes flashed. “Maybe.”

  She laid her head back down on his chest, the sound of his breathing never failing to calm her. “I… have to admit — it’s beautiful here. I think I’m falling in love with the people too. Just, so friendly, so relaxed.”

  Would sane people think walking a half-naked woman on a leash in broad daylight qualifies as particularly… friendly?

  It took conscious effort to shake the image out of her mind, the thought equal parts disturbing and arousing. “It’s just nice to be in a place where what we do is… accepted, I guess.”

  “No guessing about it, girl. It’s what this town is.”

  “Celina and Candice both are such sweet women. I love them.” She glanced up at him. “The men aren’t exactly hard on the eyes either.”

  “Be careful, bad girl.” He clasped her hip, giving her a little shake. “We can get an early start on tomorrow’s session for you…”

  A tiny shudder traveled down her spine, the thought about her impending maintenance tomorrow causing her nipples to tighten. “No, sir. Sorry.”

  Troy was going to be visiting a friend of Von’s in the morning, and she was going to have lunch with Celina. But in the afternoon… she had a reckoning to look forward to. Or dread.

  And this time, she had no idea what to expect.

  Even though she knew she was going to be punished tomorrow, her mind kept coming back to the same subject, turning over the implications of what being a resident of White Valley might be like. There was no denying the fact the place intrigued her though, the seductiveness of the whole idea — and the very real exercise of their particular way of life — already had a hold on her. It was dangerous. It was foolish.

  But it didn’t make it any less true.

  What did it say about her that she was even considering the idea — very seriously considering it — of moving to this incredible, lurid, fantastical town? Shouldn’t she have been horrified by the philosophy of such a place? Instead, it spoke to something animal, ancient, visceral within her, a need, an urge she couldn’t understand any more than she could control it.

  Did she dare take that first step?

  She already knew the answer to that, even if she wasn’t prepared to verbalize it.

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Lace.” He leaned back against the headboard, gazing up at the ceiling. “I’d move here like yesterday, if it were only up to me. But I’m not going anywhere — not ever — without you.”

  She gave his chest a gentle kiss. “I know it. Just… let me think about it, okay?”

  His finger gently stroked her chin. “I see right through you. I know my wife. You’re as fucking turned on at the whole idea of this place as I am. Maybe more.” A crooked smile curved his lips, his gaze looking almost… wistful. “There’s something else holding you back, isn’t there?”

  Pressing her cheek to the soft fabric over his chest, she sighed. “There is. I just wish I knew what to do about it.”

  Or him.

  Chapter 19

  Von looked back at him as he unlocked the gate. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  Troy scratched his chin, giving his friend a shrug. “With what you’ve told me already? What you’ve already shown me? I don’t think it’s possible for me to resist seeing what you’re up to.”

  With a broad grin, tiny droplets of the clear morning mist clinging to his light brown beard, Von swung the rusted iron gate wide, a winding dirt path leading downhill toward the low-slung white clapboard building beyond. “It’s not what I’m up to. It’s what this whole town is up to.”

  Surrounded by a huge swath of green pasture, wisps of grayish fog hanging here and there just above the ground, the place looked every bit like a dairy shed. It was something Troy knew well from his childhood on the outskirts of Puyallup, WA.

  Back then, his hometown seemed to have more livestock than people.

  He didn’t see a single cow in these fields though.

  The pasture spread up a gentle hill beyond the shed, a driveway snaking up the side of the promontory via several switchbacks, a gorgeous hunter green and slate colored multi-story house dominating the crest. It was one of the most impressive properties he’d seen yet — and the area, out of all proportion to its isolated locale, seemed blessed with an abundance of them.

  The morning was
still chilly, and Troy pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders. “I’d never have thought they’d have cow pastures this far up the valley.”

  White Valley it was called, an innocuous, anonymous name on the map, tucked deep into the eastern foothills of Washington’s Cascades range.

  “This place is full of surprises,” Von said out of the corner of his mouth, leading the way down the path, his big boots clomping in the dirt.

  The hulking man was one of Troy’s former squad mates, serving with him during their multiple tours in the AfPak theater. They’d been fast friends in the service, and they’d considered themselves brothers. But the war had taken a toll on both of them, and they’d coped in different ways. They’d lost contact since they’d taken their discharge papers. Though his scars had healed, Troy knew the regret of drifting away from his friend never would.

  So, the day his phone had rung, Von’s deep, gravelly voice on the other end, had been a good day indeed.

  But he’d never have believed things would have progressed as fast as they had since then. There was a whole lot more to staff sergeant Von Ellison than Troy ever imagined.

  “I’m not even sure if Keenan’s here, but I told him we’d swing by for a visit. Maybe we can catch him at work on the girls.”

  “Girls?”

  He’d known a few dairy farmers who’d grown attached to their cows, even a couple who refused to send them off for slaughter after their production waned.

  Von gave him a wink. “You’ll see. Easier than trying to explain this shit.”

  The door to the shed creaked as Von pulled it open, the familiar smells of hay, dirt, and fresh milk wafting out. The scent held a strangely familiar note — but it was not one he’d associated with his childhood memories of the dairy farms of his hometown.

  It was much warmer inside the building, the air humid. Both men shed their jackets as they moved deeper inside, the door swinging closed behind them with a thunk. Lit by a long bank of overhead fluorescent lights, Von led Troy down a row of milking stalls. Troy could make out some movement up ahead, but it was too far to be sure what it was.

  It looked like something flailing up and down, but one of the concrete stall walls blocked most of the view.

  As they drew closer, it quickly became apparent what it was.

  It was a tall, dark-haired man, wielding a long, thin lash, methodically whipping something.

  Or someone.

  As they drew close, the man noticed his visitors, and he turned toward them. As he leaned an elbow on the top of the stall wall, the length of leather dangling loosely from his fist, his keen gaze studied them for a moment. Then he flashed them a tight smile, lifting his chin. “Come on in, gentlemen.”

  “Thanks, Keenan. Hoped we’d catch you before you got to work.” Von tipped his head toward Troy. “Wanted him to see what you get up to here.”

  Keenan grinned then, his white teeth set off by a neatly trimmed brown goatee, his square jaw and strong brows an interesting contrast to a brilliant gray-eyed gaze that bespoke a sharp intellect. “You’re just in time then.” He extended a hand toward Troy. “You must be Von’s guest. Welcome.”

  Troy shook the man’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. Keenan, was it?”

  A soft gasp could be heard somewhere beyond the stall wall.

  “Keenan Wingate. That’s me.” He glanced behind him, at whatever awaited beyond the partition. “I think my girl is a little nervous about… new visitors.”

  Keenan flashed Von an intent look. “You told him, right?”

  “Not exactly. Figured… might be best to just show him.”

  Keenan tsked. “Ellison, you shouldn’t have.” He flicked a glance at Troy. “Your friend here. He’s testing you, I think.”

  “Testing?”

  What the fuck is going on here?

  Von arched a thick eyebrow. “He can take it. Troy’s been in the shit, just like me. And I know what he gets up to at home with that cute little wife of his. She’s a good girl.”

  “Damn right.” Troy’s cock stirred a little at the thought of his curvy, gorgeous Lacey.

  His last vision of her had been of Lacey sitting in her rocker, dressed only in her faded pajama bottoms, the cups of her pump pressed firmly to her swollen breasts. Hayden was still fast asleep in his crib, Lacey mouthing “goodbye” to him, her cheeks flushing profusely as they always did whenever Troy insisted on watching her put her dark red nipples to her pump.

  Snap out of it. Probably not the time to be sporting wood, you dipshit.

  Keenan watched the two of them for a moment, as if evaluating what he should do next. Then he stepped back from the wall, sweeping an arm to his left. “Come on over to this side, boys. View’s better from over here.”

  What Troy saw as he walked around the partition made his jaw fall open.

  There was a subtle note of apology in Keenan’s hushed voice as they looked upon the sight. “She sometimes needs a little encouragement to put herself in position.”

  Crouched tightly over on the bare concrete, her knees to her breasts, was a naked woman. Her skin was a pale cream, flawless, her hair a fiery auburn mess where she rested a cheek against her folded arms. Her round buttocks were scored with numerous pink and red lines, a few of them wrapping around the fullness of her hips.

  Troy’s cock was already lengthening, even before he saw the dangling cups where they’d been draped over the upper of two white enamel painted rails that traversed the stall. The pair of parallel bars were much lower than what he’d remembered for a milking set-up… but then it was immediately apparent that this milking stall wasn’t intended for cows.

  Black leather cuffs, affixed to gleaming silver chain hung at either end from the upper rail, a broad pad of worn leather affixed to the floor directly below. Appending from the lower rail were several supple leather straps, tiny buckles at the ends.

  “Let’s be a good girl, sweetheart,” Keenan said, tapping her hip with the lash. “I don’t want to have to use this again — especially now that we have observers. Show these fine men what a nice, obedient girl is expected to do here.”

  She hid her blushing face against her arms, the thick locks of her hair nearly concealing her face. But her muffled reply could clearly be heard. “Yes… sir.”

  “Good,” Keenan said, beaming. He stepped over to the railing, crouching down until his faded blue jeans stretched over his muscular thighs, the length of deadly leather laid over the denim. Picking up one of the cups, he held it before her. “Let’s get you hooked up now that we’ve addressed your silly little defiance.”

  She moved her head, whispering. “Could we... do it another time? I can still wait, if—”

  Keenan’s eyes narrowed. “Are you refusing me again, dear?”

  A tremble coursed down her body, goose-flesh breaking out upon the curves of her well-scourged buttocks. “No, sir.”

  “Then let’s get you up to the rails.” Keenan turned his head toward the two men. “Might want to walk around to the front. Can get a better look at how this works up there.” Keenan gave them a sly little smile. “Though I must admit, the view is pretty damned nice back here too.”

  Von chuckled, smacking Troy on the shoulder. “Come on. This is… interesting.”

  Making their way around to the other side of the row of stalls, they looked down upon the woman as she crawled forward, rising slightly to press her chest to the metal rails. It was at that moment that Troy realized the rails were angled toward them, the lower set further back than the upper one. Keenan’s fingers deftly took hold of each nipple in turn, using them to pull her breasts through, the soft mammaries hanging down, squeezed slightly between the painted rails.

  Keenan affixed her wrists to the cuffs. “Sorry about her behavior,” he said softly. “She knows Von very well, but she’s not used to newcomers when she’s down here in her stall. Just a little embarrassed, that’s all.” He patted her bottom. “Introduce yourself, sweetheart.”

  She loo
ked up at them, her cheeks scarlet, her pretty blue eyes brimming. Her nipples were long and very hard, their color of the palest pink. “I’m Amy.” She swallowed, her lip trembling though she managed a wan smile. “Amy Wingate.”

  “Very pretty,” Von murmured, his eyes flashing, mouth curved in a half smile.

  Holy shit.

  Troy’s tongue was threatening to stick to the roof of his mouth. “You… you’re—?”

  “Yes,” Keenan said, taking up the dangling leather straps. He drew one around the base of one of her breasts. “This is my wife.”

  Her blush darkening still further, she dropped her gaze as Keenan cinched the leather around both of her breasts. She was quite well-endowed already, and the pressure of the bindings only made her breasts appear more generous. Troy couldn’t help but notice the fine tracery of bluish veins, the way the nipples seemed to swell even more.

  You’ve got tits on the brain, my man. You’ve been watching Lacey too much.

  He knew deep down that he’d never get enough of his bewitching wife. Her swollen breasts leaking with her sweet milk just made him want her even more.

  “Ready, dear?”

  Troy knew Keenan’s question to the kneeling Amy was a rhetorical one.

  Keenan strode around the side, joining them in front of his helplessly bound wife. “Now, once she’s cinched up nice and snug, we can start the pump.” He slapped the metal and glass cylinder that was mounted to the end of one of the stall walls, the clear tubing attached to the cups terminating at the top of the glass portion. “But first, I like to get her started a little before slapping the cups on. Excuse me, fellas.”

  Dropping to one knee in front of his wife, Keenan touched her cheek for a moment, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. Then she took a deep breath, shuddering in her bonds.

  Her husband’s hands gently squeezed and kneaded the woman’s soft, vulnerable breasts, gripping them at the base, then massaging them down toward the tips, pinching and twisting the pink nipples slowly between thumb and forefinger. He pulled gently at each tip, and she gasped.