by Trent Evans
Then he did it all over again.
“Helps to give each breast a really good massage — the tighter the better — to encourage the milk to let down.”
Von grunted. “I don’t think she minds, either.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Keenan shrugged, continuing to work her flesh between his strong fingers. “It can get uncomfortable for her if she’s very full. But I guarantee if you went around the other side and felt between her thighs, you’d find her cunt is practically dripping.” He stroked her lowered chin. “Isn’t that right, my horny girl?”
“Y-yes, sir.” Her voice warbled on the last syllable.
Troy shifted his weight, keenly aware of the tightness at his groin. “Wait. You mean… you’re really going to milk her?”
Keenan looked back at them, nodding, continuing to massage and squeeze the pinioned breasts. “It’s okay. Ask any questions you like. I recognize this… isn’t something one sees every day.”
Up until that moment, Troy had still hung on to the idea that this was some sort of elaborate role-play, an exercise in exhibitionism and objectification.
But this?
Judging by the aching hardness of his cock, this was apparently just fine too.
Jesus, you get more fucked up every day.
His mind was already turning though, whirling into motion, the thoughts coming fast. All of it circled back to the sweet, obedient woman waiting at home for him. He suddenly had some ideas for additional areas of… exploration.
“How did you, uh, get them started?” Troy felt sheepish asking the question, but the woman didn’t look pregnant in the least, her figure very pleasingly curvy in all the right places, but obviously not carrying a child.
“How long’s it been?” Keenan turned back to his work. “What do you think, Von? Six months?”
“Wasn’t it John Mitchell that gave you the idea?”
Keenan laughed softly. “It was! Jesus, that was a helluva day. That must have been — shit, almost a year ago?”
“Has to be.” Von spoke the words quietly to Troy then, as Keenan concentrated on his work. “We have regular Accountings here. Kind of like your Maintenance Nights, only in a group.”
“No shit?” Troy’s cock was almost screaming.
“Yeah. Messed up, right? You’ll love it.” Von nodded toward the kneeling man. “Keenan here was running the show that day. After a couple accountings had already been doled out, he called up Kendra — John Mitchell’s wife — and she stood front and center, her blouse soaked at the nipples.”
Troy’s throat was so tight, he had to swallow to be sure he could still breathe.
“John explained it was part of her accounting, that he’d recently induced lactation, and that she’d been so defiant that week, he decided to hold off on milking her. Well, the sight and sound of the other women getting their just deserts apparently caused her to let down right there as she waited. John hadn’t planned it at all, but loved the effect.”
Amy whimpered as Keenan cruelly twisted her nipples.
“Almost done, dear.”
“Anyway,” Von continued. “John and Keenan got together, shared notes. And the rest is history.”
Troy rubbed his chin. “Jesus, that’s… I don’t know what that is.”
“Fucked up is what it is.” Von glanced downward pointedly. “But it has the same effect on all of us — so don’t feel bad.”
Troy suppressed the urge to adjust himself, knowing the bulge at his crotch was quite obvious. There wasn’t anywhere for his erect cock to go in the snug confines of his jeans though, so he’d just have to tough it out.
“There, I think she’s ready now.” With one last groan-inducing pull on each of Amy’s nipples, Keenan rose to his feet, looking down at his bound wife. “What do you say?”
She lifted her head, the bright track of a single tear coursing down her cheek. Her face was beet red as she said the words. “Please may I have the cups… sir?”
“Of course, beautiful,” Keenan intoned, plucking up the black rubber of the cups. “Oh, almost forgot.”
Keenan crouched down again, the clear tubing draped over one shoulder. Gripping one breast at the base, he squeezed it quite hard just above the areola, working his fingers down to the nipple. Several bluish-white droplets appeared at the tip, and he swiped them away, coating the edges of one cup with a fine film of milk.
She whimpered again, but didn’t move.
“Helps to get a good seal,” Keenan said, doing the same with the other bound breast. “There!”
Reaching up, he flipped a switch at the bottom of the metal part of the canister, a low hum filling the space.
She took a sharp breath as he fitted the molded rubber to each pendent breast, the suction pulling the cups tight against her.
“That’s a girl,” Keenan said in a low voice, caressing her breasts for a moment, the white milk beginning to splash into the glass portion of the pump above. “Just let it all come out for us.”
She dropped her head again, a single tear falling to the concrete below.
Pulling himself to his feet, the three men watched the study in abject objectification in rapt, aroused silence. Troy, unable to bear the tension, finally broke the quiet. “How long does it take?”
It was a stupid question, he knew, but he blurted it out anyway, his extreme arousal rendering the process of forming coherent thought into something that took real effort.
“Fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe? Sometimes, I’ll fuck her while she’s at the cups, but I find she produces less. I think it distracts her a little.” Keenan crossed his arms, glancing at Troy. “She’ll give me a good sixteen, twenty ounces no matter what, but if I can avoid fucking her until after she’s completely drained, she’ll sometimes give me almost thirty.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Troy breathed, not sure if he was cursing the amount of milk, or his own insanely strong arousal. He’d never so much as thought of such a thing being done to a woman, and yet there he was, standing there watching it, his cock like a steel billy club in his jeans.
“Where are my manners?” Keenan extended an arm toward his kneeling wife, meeting Troy’s gaze. “Would you care to use her? You’re welcome to either end.”
Troy had to suppress his groan at the imagery the words elicited. “Uh, no thanks.”
“You sure? She’s quite used to it.” Keenan flicked a glance at Von, then back at Troy. “Ellison’s been here quite a few times while she’s knelt here in her stall. I’m sure he can vouch for her… eagerness.”
Bright blue eyes peered up at them, uncertainty, shame — and perhaps a hint of curiosity — swimming in their depths.
“No, really.” Troy held up a hand. “It’s not that I… hell, I don’t know what I’m saying. Just, yeah, I better not.”
Keenan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s all right. No need to rush things. If all goes as Von thinks they might, you’ll have plenty more opportunities. I’m a generous sort.”
Von laughed at that, even as his fingers worked at the buckle of his belt. “Suit yourself, Troy. But I think you’re crazy.” He walked around to the other side of the stall, opening his fly as he dropped to his knees behind the waiting, bound Amy. Her eyes went wide, and she looked back at Von as he clasped her hip with one hand, freeing the truncheon of his cock. “You sure you don’t mind, Keenan?”
“She’s just about done anyway. Enjoy yourself.” Keenan leaned one hand against the top bar, his wife meeting his gaze. “Now, you be a good girl for him. You do whatever he asks, as if he were me. Understand?”
An explosion of color darkened her cheeks once more, her slender throat working. “Yes, sir.”
Von pushed into her in one long, urgent stroke, drawing a soft moan from the kneeling, bound woman. Taking up a leisurely thrusting, her hips gripped tightly in his big hands, he looked over at Troy from beyond the bars.
“Sure you don’t wanna talk about moving?”
Chapter 20
He met them in the foyer of Von’s house, leaning a shoulder against the carved moulding along the banister, the two beautiful women pulling off their gloves, and slipping out of their rain spattered coats.
But he had eyes only for his Lacey.
“Come with me,” he told her, extending a hand.
The pointed look, a furtive worrying of her lip between her teeth was the only clue that Celina knew what was about to occur. Wisely, she didn’t say a word, watching, silent and still as Troy led his wide-eyed wife down the hall toward the living room.
The house was silent, the waning, gray afternoon light flooding the space with a ghostly illumination, the day just beginning to resign itself to another inevitable retreat before the advance of its relentless successor.
Lacey’s fingers were vibrating just the tiniest bit as he sat with her upon the soft leather sofa, the dreary gray light pouring in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting liquid brightness in his wife’s eyes.
“Today is Friday. You know what that means, don’t you?”
Her breathing betrayed a shaky note. “I’d hoped you were… kidding.”
“About giving you your due while we were on our little trip?”
“Something like that, I guess.” She met his eyes, a hopefulness, and a guarded, but not quite hidden, curiosity just under the surface. “Being in a new place — away from home — I thought you’d… wait.”
“I want this to be our new home. Someday.” He squeezed her hand. “No better way to see of it fits.”
“I could think of a couple other ways.”
“Watch yourself, bad girl.” He smiled as he growled it though.
She looked down. “Sorry, sir.”
“I know you’re wondering what’s going to happen. It may not be easy for you, but I want you to go with it. Be open to it.”
“Even if it hurts?” Her lips were so red, so swollen. He wanted to devour them with his own.
“Especially if it hurts.”
“I’ll try.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, loving the heat of her soft, flushed skin. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there with you. No matter what happens, it’ll never be more than you can take. Will you do this?”
Meeting his gaze, she beamed at him. “I can do this. Just…”
“What?”
“I need you to know that… I don’t know what to think. About all this. I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“You don’t have to think about any of that. Not right now.” He stood up, drawing her to her feet. “All you have to think about, is doing as you’re told.”
He walked with her, his hand at the small of her back, loving the play of her trembling muscles under his fingertips. They stopped at the door to the basement, and he waited, watching her, savoring each second of her struggle with the unknown. She turned to him.
“One… just one more thing.” She glanced back down the hallway toward the front door. “There was… a Mercedes parked next to Von’s truck. Do you know…?”
He nodded slowly.
Lacey’s gaze was intent, something deeper flickering within.
“Just a spanking for you today, bad girl. Nothing worse than that.”
The tension in her shoulders eased just a little. “That’s… okay.”
“But we won’t be alone for this.”
Her eyes closed tight, color bursting in her cheeks. “Oh… God.”
“Remember what I said. Just do as you’re told.”
Lacey took his hand then, gripping it with a surprising strength. “Don’t let me go.”
“Never, Lacey girl.” He patted her ass. “Now, open the door.”
* * *
Lacey froze in place once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs, her wide eyes scanning the room. Troy allowed her a moment to take it in before forcing her onward.
The room wasn’t so much a basement as a vast, open playroom. It was a daylight basement, and along one entire side, running the length of the room, was a bank of huge plate glass windows, and two sets of sliding glass doors. The effect was to flood the space with natural light, a welcoming — and striking — effect.
At first glance, it looked like a combination man cave and rec room. Just to the left of the foot of the stairs stretched a huge bar, the varnished wood gleaming with the fading afternoon light, lined with luxuriously upholstered stools. One of the most comprehensive layouts of liquor Troy had ever seen filled the mirrored wall above the bar, the glass bordered by an elaborate blue and red LED and neon lighting display.
Opposite the bar, alone in the middle of the room, was an immense billiards table, a large rack of cues mounted to one of the pillars separating the huge windows.
Nearby, filling an entire quarter of the room, was a giant flat screen TV, a chocolate leather couch and twin easy chairs clustered around it.
At the other side of the billiards table, occupying a corner of its own, was Von’s play area. There was a towering St. Andrews cross, a shiny steel frame that resembled a squat rack before a floor-length mirror, and several benches, including a large, padded one fair dripping with polished leather straps.
Lacey drew in a sharp breath when her gaze fell upon it.
“It’s okay,” he whispered at her ear. “Over to the table now.”
Her body moved as if she were a machine just creaking to life after a long period of inactivity, but she reluctantly obeyed, stopping at the end when he squeezed her shoulder. Though she was still in her jeans and a zip-up navy fleece top, she shivered slightly, her eyes continually scanning the room around her.
Then they went wide, and she put a hand to her mouth.
For the twin easy chairs were occupied.
“Lacey, you already know Von, but I don’t believe you’ve met Keenan. They’re going to be… observing today.”
Almost in tandem, both chairs swiveled to face them, Von — and Keenan — relaxing in their embrace. Though both men portrayed an air of casualness, their intent gazes bespoke anything but. Keenan’s suit was an impeccably cut jet black, the glint of cufflinks at his wrist and his sharp eyes brilliant counterpoints to the dark color. Von’s legs were crossed, the heavy boots, dirt-encrusted, the jeans well-worn, the faded red of an Ellison Co T-shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders.
“Pleasure, Lacey,” Keenan murmured, with a slight incline of his head. He flicked a glance at Troy. “Von didn’t lie, I see. She’s lovely.”
Lacey flinched, spinning toward the sound of the door closing at the foot of the stairs. Celina gave them an uncertain smile, then turned, her slightly trembling fingers engaging the lock. Then she walked over to the TV area, standing next to Von’s chair. His arm reached out, wrapping around her hips and pulling her close for a moment. She leaned over and kissed the crown of his head. Von caressed her chin, and murmured something to her, his wife nodding slowly.
Then Celina took a step back, clasping her hands behind her, eyes downcast.
Lacey looked up at Troy, her face pale. “Why are they…?”
“Because it’s what I want.”
Keenan cleared his throat, his smooth baritone voice drawing Lacey’s gaze. “This is a part of what it means to live here. Our particular… way of life is shared by many who live in White Valley. And it’s frequently enjoyed together.”
Troy touched her cheek. “Take them down.”
“W-what?”
“Take down your things. Panties too.”
Lacey looked to the watching men then back at Troy. His cock was already hardening at the frantic darting of her eyes. This was pushing her boundaries — and his too — in a way they’d never done before.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t taking a sadistic delight in it.
You’re going to hell. You know that, right?
“My Amy still tries on a little defiance too, now and then.” Keenan propped his chin on his hand. “Just to see if it still fits, I suppose.”
/> “Celina knows better,” Von rumbled.
His wife blushed behind him.
Lacey’s voice was an anxious rasp. “Troy… I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Remember, this is safe. None will touch you today, but me.” He took her chin between thumb and forefinger, glaring down at her. “Obey me. You will do this, Lacey.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I usually have Celina come to me naked,” Von said. “Or maybe in just her collar.”
“Oh, but this is as important as the act itself. Gets them in the proper frame of mind.” Keenan made a pleased sound. “The anticipation makes it all the sweeter.”
“I like to think so.” Troy grinned at them.
Inside though, this was proving harder than he’d thought. Yes, it was a surprising turn-on to display her before them, but this had always been something intensely personal between he and his wife. Sure, Hunter knew a little bit about what went on between them, but he didn’t have anywhere near the full picture.
Not yet.
The thought was gone as fast as it appeared.
Doing this in front of these men… it was a test for him as much as it was for his compliant, gorgeous Lacey. And no moment was as critical — for either of them — as this one was. Though his wife might not know it quite yet, what was about to happen in the next few seconds… might determine the course of the rest of their lives.
“We’re waiting, Lacey.”
Finally, with a shudder, she gave him the tiniest of nods, a gesture that filled him with a profound relief.
Her fingers worked at the button of her jeans, the denim pleasingly snug about her lush thighs, highlighting the width and curvature of her hips, the ripeness of her figure.
Troy’s voice was thick as he spoke. “Turn toward the table as you take them down, girl.”
A tiny whimper escaped her lips, but she obeyed, her face crimson as she eased the jeans down her legs.
“Panties…” he warned. He smiled as her fingers hooked into them and drew them down as well.
“That’s good. Right there will do, I think.”