Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  The first woman, tall and statuesque, was pressed to one of the walls, her arms reaching as high up as possible, her slender hands flat against the painted surface. Her long, coltish legs, the slim muscles trembling, were well spread, but she’d been forced onto her toes, the position no doubt grueling. The calves bunched, hard and compact, a slight trembling there as well. Her buttocks, pert but well-rounded, had been strapped comprehensively, broad pink stripes painted across the white globes, several deep red marks livid along the side of one hip. Lacey swallowed at glint of silver she spotted at the close seamed — and clean shaven — lips that peeped back between the slender thighs.

  Then she saw the hair, the familiar bright blue and pink streaks highlighting the pretty brown hair draped in a wild spray across the smooth upper back.

  It was Candice… but her fiancé was nowhere in sight.

  Oh, shit.

  If Maddox wasn’t there, then who’d laid a strap so viciously across the young woman’s bottom?

  The other woman, on her knees was next to Candice, her broad, lush bottom up, was laying her head on the gray carpeted floor, pressed into the corner. Her arms were bound behind her at the small of her back in a web of leather straps, the flesh of her arms bulging slightly between the bonds, attesting to the tightness of their grip upon her. Lacey knew from experience that kneeling like that without use of her hands was a difficult prospect indeed, and she wondered how long the poor woman had been forced to hold that position.

  Her ass had been savagely flogged by what looked like a quirt, a storm of dozens and dozens of lines painted across her skin, here and there accentuated by darker, swollen points that were the telltale aftermath of knots in the leather implement.

  She shivered at the sight, her thighs squeezing tight involuntarily.

  Like Candice, the woman was completely nude, the shaming position — and the fact she’d been forced to splay her knees wide, putting the pink, swollen — and very wet — sex on humiliating display. The dark brown whorl of the anus cringed slightly as Lacey looked upon it, the horrible position forcing the woman to show everything she had to whomever cared to look.

  “Lacey Warren?” Keenan pointed at a spot before the table. His suit was a crisply cut cobalt blue, and looked to be worth more than her car. “Right there, front and center, if you please.”

  Troy, unbuttoning his suit coat, gave her a subtle nod, his neutral expression giving her nothing.

  Lacey took her place, feeling so exposed already she might as well not have had any clothes in at all, the collective weight of those stern male gazes threatening to force her to her knees right then and there.

  Sprawled in his chair, his blue t-shirt quite snug across his broad, muscled chest, his fingers laced behind his head, Von was the picture of calm and relaxed. Unlike the other men, casual seemed to be Von’s modus operandi, and though she’d be loathe to admit it to Troy, the look was definitely working for Von.

  “I like the tank top,” Von muttered.

  Troy met her eyes as he replied. “Wait till you see the back of her cute little panties.”

  Oh, God!

  “Welcome, Mrs. Warren,” Keenan said with a cool smile. “Since this is your first time attending a neighborhood session, I’ll explain a couple things for you. Regular accountings, usually bi-weekly, are held in this community. There are several of them, divided up by neighborhood. This is the accounting you can be expected to attend, if you decide to make this place your home.”

  Von chuckled, glancing over at Keenan. “We’re frightening the poor girl. I’m not sure we’re selling our town very well at the moment.”

  All three men chuckled, and Lacey shivered, a chill running down her spine.

  Keenan continued. “As you can see, there are usually multiple women called to each accounting. There’s never a shortage of misbehavior to correct, that’s for sure.”

  One of the women in the corner whimpered.

  Keenan flashed a withering look their way. “Be quiet, unless you’d like us to add to the marks you’re so shamefully displaying for us already.”

  Lacey wasn’t sure who’d whimpered, but both women responded emphatically in strained, cracking voices. “Yes, sir!”

  “As I was saying, most of the women of our town are accompanied by their husband to each accounting, but on occasion, they are sent unaccompanied. In those cases, one of the other men attending will assume the duties of correcting the wayward woman.”

  Lacey couldn’t help but glance at the willowy form of Candice stretched up to the heavens along the wall.

  “Now, we come to you.” Keenan fixed her with a basilisk gaze. “You will strip and present your bottom by kneeling over the ottoman.”

  Troy’s eyes almost glowed, the lust in them clear, the same look he always got before punishing her. It both heightened her anxiety, and amplified her arousal, something she knew she’d never get used to, no matter how many times he took her to task.

  She hooked fingers in her tank top, silently praying she’d have the strength to go through with all of this. Her shamed arousal only confused things more for her. Dropping the tank top to the floor, she raised her chin, her cheeks flaming, looking above the three seated men, unable to meet their gazes as she exposed herself.

  “Christ,” Von murmured, resting his chin on one hand.

  Keenan’s eyes glittered as he gave the next order. “All of it. We require you fully naked for your correction.”

  “Turn around and bend at the waist, girl. Just like at home,” Troy rumbled. “Slowly.”

  Fearing her hair might burst into flame, she obeyed, Von chuckling softly as soon as the mortifying lettering across the back of her panties came into view. It made her want to hide under the table.

  “You really know how to make a point, Troy. Damn, I might need a pair of those for Celina.”

  “I’ll send you the URL — it’s a great site. Some fucked-up shit there, and they’ll do custom orders too. I’ve made Lacey check it out a few times with me. By the time we’re done, she looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

  Von and Keenan laughed, and she hung her head.

  “We’re waiting, girl.” Troy barked. “Get them off.”

  Bending slowly, she drew pulled down the panties, thankful the fall of her hair momentarily hid the fierceness of her blush. She undid her heels, then dropped to her knees before the ottoman, gasping softly as her breasts sank into the soft, cold leather.

  “You’ve got her trained well, Warren.” Keenan’s voice was little more than a murmur behind her. “Very nice.”

  “Go for it, Von.”

  What?

  “Gladly.”

  The tall man loomed over her, then callused fingers traced the trough of her spine, touching her buttocks lightly.

  “Tell them why you’re here.”

  “Troy, please…”

  “Do it. I want them to hear.”

  Trying to swallow some moisture into her suddenly parched mouth. “I’m here for my… seventh maintenance night. But I don’t…?”

  Then it hit her before Troy spoke the mortifying words.

  “I didn’t tell her what this week would entail. She’s getting a nice spanking, a taste of the cane, and a little reminder that when it comes time to punishing her bottom, that very much includes that tight little hole of hers too.”

  Oh… my God.

  If it was possible to die of embarrassment, she was sure she’d met that threshold.

  “I have to remind Celina of that way too often,” Von said from somewhere up above. “But I can’t say I don’t enjoy refreshing her memory.”

  “After your punishment, you’ll be showing me how grateful you are for taking the time to share your maintenance night with our friends here.” Troy’s voice was thick with lust, the sound arrowing straight to her clit, despite her fear of what was to come. “But you’re going to ask for your punishment, Lacey.”

  “Troy…”

  His voice was pure steel.
“You will do it, or we’ll be adding extras. Ask Von for your spanking, bad girl.”

  Her tongue in her throat, she blew out a long breath.

  Just say it. Say the words!

  “Please, Von. Please… spank me.”

  The smacks landed immediately, the pace frenetic from the start. Alternating between each cheek, Von’s huge hand smacked down with teeth-rattling force, even harder than Troy usually spanked, his palm seeming to lift and squeeze before pulling back for another blow.

  “Oh, fuck!”

  The heat was already so intense, she couldn’t help but wiggle her hips, trying in vain to somehow assuage the burning sinking into her flesh.

  Von’s other hand pressed down just above her tailbone, pinning her fast, the fiery slaps of his hand against her ass never-ending.

  “Troy… please!”

  “I’m not the one spanking you. It’s Von you need to talk to.”

  A rush of heat at her face rivaled the flames consuming her bottom. “Please, Von!”

  “Stay nice and quiet. Nice and still,” the big man said, the calm in his voice a stark contrast to the frantic note of hers.

  “She’s got a very soft ass,” Von said, almost conversationally. “Good color already. Very pretty. I can see why you like spanking her so much.”

  “She needs it that often,” Troy said. “Lacey’s a very greedy girl. That she also happens to have an incredible ass is just a bonus for me.”

  Male laughter rang out behind her. These men enjoyed this every bit as much as Troy did.

  You’re in deep shit here.

  Troy wasn’t done though. “She likes the pain. Isn’t that right, Lacey?”

  No! No!

  But her husband knew the truth.

  “Y-yes… sir,” she whispered miserably, covering her face with her hands, knowing he’d consider it defiance not to answer such a question.

  “She’s adorable.” Keenan’s smooth cultured cadence was calm, but even over her own cries, she could hear the arousal there too. “She’d be a perfect addition to our community, Troy.”

  But her husband didn’t reply.

  Von’s big hand stilled, but he clenched one of her buttocks so hard she hissed. “Nice deep red now. What do you think?”

  “More. I want it darker.” Troy raised his voice. “Ask him to keep spanking your bottom, Lacey girl.”

  “Troy!” She buried her face in her arms, mortified, even as her clit sang its song of lust and need.

  “Obey me.”

  “Please… it hurts!”

  “I want it to hurt. You need it to hurt. Trust me bad girl, every cock in this room is rock hard right now looking at that sore, red bottom of yours. I know it hurts.” He growled the last. “But I want it to hurt even more.”

  She gasped, but knew she was powerless to resist him. He knew her better than she knew herself, and judging by the seething core of her sex her body wanted more too.

  “P-please… spank me, V-on.”

  “With pleasure,” the big man said, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating in her chest.

  A storm of smacks rained down again, agony bursting in white hot flames across her flesh. In seconds, she was crying out at each loud slap, pleading for them to stop, begging for an end, for mercy her body didn’t want.

  Her pleas fell on deaf ears for the next few minutes, Von’s hand relentlessly tapping out a pattern of scalding palm prints across her ass, her pleas rising to harsh cries whenever he found her tender upper thighs, scorching them as well until she was frantic with the pain.

  Finally, her control almost at a breaking point, the smacks ceased.

  A big hand caressed the upper curves of her hot, sore bottom cheeks. “You were a good girl,” Von murmured, then he stepped away. “Thanks, Troy. Loved it.”

  She sagged over the ottoman, panting, her chest tight, lights behind her eyes. It was one of the harshest spankings she’d ever had, rivaling Troy’s most intense punishment spankings. Both buttocks throbbed so badly, she felt as if they were visibly pulsing with the hurt.

  And yet, as always, the insidious betrayal of her body’s response.

  “Hand me the penal one, Keenan.”

  “This one?”

  There was the whine of a tight hinge.

  “No — the heavier one.” It was Troy’s voice, and it made her heart freeze, knowing what was about to happen.

  “I’ve been wanting to see this,” Von said, over the sound of a chair creaking behind her.

  The cold rattan pressed to her burning bottom and she looked over her shoulder.

  Troy tapped her ass several times. “Twelve should do it.”

  “Twelve! Oh God, Troy, please…”

  “Should I add more?” He snapped it against her thigh and she hissed at the burning line across her flesh.

  “I’m s-sorry — no.”

  “Good girl.” The cane stroked back and forth over both buttocks. “Now, head down, and be very still.”

  Burrowing her head into her arms, she was whimpering before the first stroke even landed.

  He made her wait, every nerve at the breaking point as she prepared for the anguish to come. Then the rattan snapped down, across the upper part of her ass, heat sinking into her skin.

  “That’s one,” Troy said.

  “Good swelling out of that already.” It was Keenan.

  “Helps that Von warmed her up.”

  The second stroke landed, and she tensed, throwing her head back as the white-hot sting bloomed.

  “Oh, Jesus, Troy…”

  “You can do this. Head back down.”

  Pressing her forehead to the cool leather, she gritted her teeth as the third stroke clawed into her ass.

  “I’ll try to work her between the first and third ones, lower down here.” The harsh cane poked at the lower curve of her bottom. “She’s most sensitive here, so we should get some good results.”

  “Please, Troy, not there!”

  “Another word and we may have to add more.” His voice was very calm, almost soothing, but she knew better.

  “S-sorry, sir.”

  “Oh, not yet.” Another line sliced across her lower buttocks, and she yelped. “But you will be.”

  The next three came in a rapid-fire burst, the collected lines left behind swelling into a tight band of agony across her ass.

  “Good grouping with that one,” Keenan intoned. “She felt those.”

  While that band of hurt throbbed, he laid the cane against her thighs.

  “No!”

  One, two, three stokes followed, laddering down her thighs and she burst into tears, the pain fierce and unrelenting, her thighs so much more vulnerable than her well-padded bottom.

  Breathe, Lace. Breathe.

  The skin at the back of her thighs grew tight, the aching of the marks growing worse by the second.

  A hand caressed her buttocks, feeling and gently squeezing each one in turn while she panted, her hot, salty tears wetting the corners of her mouth.

  “Please, no more, sir.”

  “We’re almost done, girl.” The rattan tapped at the band of swollen, burning flesh. “A few more here should do it.”

  “See if you can fill in those gaps with the last few.” Keenan drawled.

  She wanted to wring his neck, despite the fact knowing the men were watching her torment had already made the lips of her sex exceedingly slippery. Her nipples were hard and aching, though blessedly hidden for the moment.

  “Last two, girl.” The cane pressed to her throbbing, burning buttocks. “Be very still now.”

  Like twin strikes of a viper, the strokes sliced in, lightning fast, her ass erupting in fire. She threw her head back and shrieked at the last one, sobbing openly as she collapsed over the ottoman again, her hips writhing in a grotesque dance of anguish, her feet pounding the carpet. She wanted so much to reach behind and rub, but to do so, she knew would invite terrible consequences. Her strict husband had long ago trained her out of the i
mpulse, through repeated — and agonizing — applications of the cane whenever she had the temerity to disobey his dictates. He believed that the pain of a caning did its best, most cleansing work after the punishment was over, when the wayward woman’s bottom throbbed and seethed, when all she could think about was what she’d done — and what the cost had been for doing it.

  “Ladies. Punishment is over. You may rise and face us now, Josalyn. Candice, you can lower.” Keenan’s voice had a formal cadence to it, as if this were sacred ceremony and not three sexual dominants indulging themselves in an afternoon of sadism. “Hands behind your backs and kneel, the both of you. Eyes on the carpet.”

  Both women, faces blushing crimson, obeyed the order in silence. Josalyn, a woman of perhaps forty-five was a striking brunette with a bountiful figure that made even Lacey flush with admiration, knelt facing them, her great breasts swaying then coming to a rest as she lowered her gaze, her rich tresses hiding her face. Candice, her nipple piercings glinting silver in the muted light of the room, gracefully dropped to her knees, chancing a quick glance at Lacey and giving her a little smile. That tiny bit of support gave Lacey the strength to finish this. It helped that she wasn’t alone here.

  Sadistic treatment or not though, Lacey had no doubt hers wasn’t the only wet pussy in the room. Though she’d never understand it, being taken in hand by the man she loved spoke to her — and to her pussy — in a way nothing else on Earth could. Having it happen in front of an audience, while making it more intense — and far more embarrassing — didn’t change that fact.

  And she had a feeling it didn’t change it for Josalyn and Candice either.

  Then her view of the women was blocked by Troy, peering down at her a moment, before dropping to a crouch. He touched her lips, and she kissed his fingertips fervently, her weeping beginning again at having him close to her once more. How she needed his touch, his softness, his caring. After all that pain — even if the pain turned her on in that twisted, mysterious way — she needed to know he was still there with her, still loved her.

  And still desired her.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she sighed, closing her eyes, her heart bursting with love for him, the comfort and caring and love implicit in the gesture like almost nothing else was. To a submissive woman like her, it said so much, far more than any mere words could convey.