by Trent Evans
He held her head in both hands, smiling at her. “You were a good girl for me — for us. But now it’s time for you to show how grateful you are for us taking the time to correct you.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
She bit her lip, but relief flowed through her, for it meant he would take her. Soon, he’d lead her back to the guesthouse and she could should him just how much he meant to her. Oh yes, she’d show him.
Troy looked up, at something behind her. “You have it? Thanks, Keenan.”
Then she saw what Troy held in his hand, her breath catching in her throat.
It was the plug, the shaming script on the end plain for all to see.
He leaned close, whispering into her ear as she shivered, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks, fresh juices coursing down her inner thighs from her sodden pussy.
“I’m going to plug your bottom with the big toy. It’s going to hurt a little, and that’s okay. You managed it once, so I know you can do it again. You’re going to be my good girl and take it bravely.” He kissed away one of her tears, his voice almost hoarse with his arousal. “Then you’re going to swallow my cock for me, and show everyone here how a bad girl earns her forgiveness from her husband. Understand?”
“Y-yes, sir,” she whispered through her tears, sniffling softly. He took a moment to wipe her face with a rich silk handkerchief, then pressed a long, slow kiss on her lips once again. “Be strong, my gorgeous Lacey.”
Then he was gone, and she dropped her head to the leather, knowing what was coming and having no idea how she was going to endure it.
“Von, will you spread her for me? Nice and wide.”
Oh, my God!
Huge, strong hands grasped her buttocks, yawning them open to an obscene degree, the wetness of her pussy audible as her lips peeled open, the air currents caressing her soaked cleft, her slick inner thighs. A fingertip investigated the whorl of her anus, the touch gentle but confident.
“Absolutely spectacular,” Keenan murmured. “She’s as tight as a virgin.”
“She comes like a dirty slut though when her ass is used.” Troy’s voice was taut with arousal. “It’s amazing.”
Lacey’s face flamed as she whimpered against her arms, the twisted — and darkly arousing — mortification drowning her.
The cold, slick plug was pressed to her anus, and she gasped. “You know what to do. Deep breaths, Lace. Push out on it.” He praised her as she allowed the blunt tip entry, but it was a wide heavy plug, and soon her body began to protest, a sharp sting making her yelp.
“Easy, open that bottom, bad girl. Time for your plug.” Fingers rubbed slow circles over her clit, and she moaned with the powerful pleasure of it. Her clit was hard and throbbing all through her spanking, something she was grateful the men didn’t know.
But Troy knew it, continuing to touch her, getting more aggressive by the second, until his fingers swirled over her clit, a delicious torment all its own.
“That’s it, Lacey. Oh, I know this pussy is so needy, so wet. God, your clit is swollen and red. I know this feels good, sweetheart.” He pressed the plug into her again, and she relaxed, panting a little as the widest part demanded entry. “This is the worst part now.”
She yelped again, the pressure growing uncomfortable. He backed off just enough to allow her to relax. The fingers left her clit, two of them slipping inside her, pressing deep, then curling in a way that had her biting the leather cushion, her hands gripping her own forearms desperately.
“Oh, my fucking God.”
“Let it in, Lace. Your bottom needs to take this plug. I know it’s big, and uncomfortable. It’s supposed to be, bad girl. But you can do it.” The plug slipped deeper as his fingers stroked that special spot inside, threatening to make fly apart. “Almost there…
She blew out a shaky breath as her sphincter clenched tight around the narrow neck, the widest part of the plug finally swallowed up. The heaviness of the cold metal, the uncomfortable fullness left her panting, her eyes squeezed shut.
Von released her buttocks, Troy retrieving his fingers from the clutch of her sex. He touched her clit again, rubbing it until she was pressing down against the cushion, trying in vain to increase the friction against her tight, aching bud. But he left off before she could climb all the way to orgasm.
Putting out of her mind for the moment the fact she had a thick metal plug between her bottom cheeks that said the word ‘obey,’ all she could concentrate on was how full she was — and how much she needed to come. The pain of her caning had already begun to seep deep into her tissues, heating her entire core, her pussy a sopping mess as her twisted psyche began to translate those pain signals into illicit, taboo arousal.
“Please, Troy… I need you,” she whispered, her chin laid upon the leather, wishing fervently that those fingers would investigate her wet heat once more. But it was not to be.
Instead, her husband stood before her again, his fingers working at the belt of his slacks. Her mouth began to water as she looked up at him, his fist twisting in her sweaty locks. She rose up on hands and knees upon the ottoman at the yank at her hair.
The heavy penis smacked impatiently at her lips as Troy locked gazes with her. “Suck.”
Cheeks burning hot, especially at the knowledge four other people looked on in silence, she obeyed him, taking the burning shaft between her lips, worshipping the broad head with her tongue, lightly grazing it with her teeth the way she knew he loved. She licked away the salty precome, making a show of swallowing it for him as she looked up into his eyes.
“Swallow that cock, slut. All the way down.”
Lowering her eyes, she took him deep, opening her throat slowly as she sucked, loving the way he groaned as the head breached her throat. “More, more. That’s it… Jesus.”
He held her tight to him, and she swallowed him down, until her nose was tickled by his pubic hair. He held her like that for several seconds, her throat clicking, her hands caressing his testicles as she patiently waited.
Then he let her off his shaft and she took a great gust of air into burning lungs.
“Again.”
Over and over he made her surrender the furthest recesses of her throat, her lips tired and numbing as she worked the head of his big penis between his deep plunges into her mouth.
Finally, his thighs under her hands began to tense, his breath coming faster.
“Suck it… oh fuck… I’m close. More, take it again.” He drove his cock into her once more, until her nose was pressed hard against his pubic bone. He held her there the longest yet, and just when panic began to well within her, he pulled free. She gasped in relief, licking and sucking on the swollen, angry crown of his penis for a few more seconds. He took hold of her hair once more, holding her tight as his fist coursed up and down the shaft.
“Tongue, bitch. More!” She extended it as far as she could, waiting expectantly, his degrading words making her clit throb. She whined a little as the grip on her hair tightened. Then he groaned, exploding, his seed spraying across her tongue, wetting her lips with it, scalding semen spraying into the back of her mouth. He stroked his big penis until the last of the spurts died away, one last jet of thick come laying itself across her lips, a wet line extending down her chin.
“Clean it,” he said, his eyes blazing, his face reddened, breathing labored. “Every fucking drop.”
She met his eyes, swallowing down his essence, as she’d been trained, her blush flaring anew at the sadistic delight in her degradation she saw in his gaze.
Wiping up the last line of his seed and sucking it off her finger, she licked his softening penis until it gleamed, tucking it gently back into his slacks as he stood before her.
“God damn,” Von muttered.
But before another word could be said she was swept up in Troy’s arms, his grip holding her tight to his chest as he strode from the room.
Chapter 27
He knew it was stupid to let it affect him as much as it did, but
he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have her in his arms again.
Taking his weeping, loving, submissive wife back to the guest house, he laid her gently upon the bed.
“Don’t move, beautiful. I’ll be right back.”
She simply nodded against the bedspread, her cheeks bright with her tears, her face flushed a deep pink.
Finding what he needed in a bathroom equipped to every Dom’s wildest dreams, he walked back out, ordering her to roll over on her belly.
The sight of her swollen, wealed, crimson buttocks had his cock stirring anew, but he ignored it. He needed to touch her, needed to renew that connection with this wonderful woman.
The curtains only allowed muted light into the room, leaving it shadowed and cool and quiet, as he applied the ointment to her bottom. The sounds of her pained sighs had him fully erect, and he spent much longer than required in massaging and kneading those bountiful soft bottom cheeks. He made sure to coat her upper thighs as well, her tiny sigh as he coated those swelling tram lines making him smile. The only thing better than disciplining his wife was taking care of her afterward, the quiet gentle touches, listening to her moans and soft sighs as he made everything better again, imprinting his ownership upon her gorgeous body all over again as he took his time touching her anywhere and everywhere. In its own way, it was every bit as erotic as taking her like a savage beast.
“Shh, just relax, sweetie. No more punishment, no more pain.” He pressed a kiss to the small of her back, savoring the salt of her sweat upon his lips as he worked the ointment deep into her flesh. “Let me take care of you now.”
He switched to the warming oil, wetting both hands with it and starting with her thighs below the three livid weals left behind by the cane. He didn’t stop until every inch of her, from the nape of her neck to the soles of her feet gleamed with it. Her moans were almost continuous by the time he’d finished.
Stroking her inner thighs, he leaned over her, his cock a steel bar between his thighs.
“Spread your legs for me, girl.”
Instantly, she obeyed, her swollen, wet sex opening to him, her juices running almost continuously, bright against her skin. Her clit was already peeking out from under its hood, red and swollen and desperate. And he had no intention of making it suffer any longer.
She drew a sharp breath as he took that little clit between his fingers, giving it a squeeze as he plunged two fingers into her sex. He took his time stirring her up, enjoying her high-pitched moans as he stared at the broad plug still ensconced between her martyred buttocks, the cleft of her ass slick with lubricant.
He worked her hard bud until she was gasping, wordless pleas accompanying the waving of her hips.
“Let go, Lacey. Come for me.”
Her cries muffled by the bedspread, she convulsed upon his fingers, her juices pouring forth, her delicious spicy scent strong on the air. He licked his fingers off one by one, using the other hand to continue working her clit, bringing her toward another orgasm.
Over and over, he brought her to climax, urging her to explode, to let all of that tension go, that her pleasure was his to command, just like everything else about her. By the end, his wrists ached, her sex swollen and deep red. Exhausted, her pleas reduced to inchoate moans and sighs, he finally let her be.
Tapping her glistening bottom, he pulled at the end of the plug. “Let’s get this taken care of too.”
He went easy on her as he drew it out, cooing to her to push, to open for him. Pulling the heavy, body-warmed steel free of the clutch of her opening, he traced the reddened anus, savoring the sight of it gaping open, then slowly drawing tight once more. He pressed a soft kiss to it, then took the plug to the bathroom.
They laid together then, their naked bodies entwined, his erection hot against the coolness of her bottom. He said nothing to her as he stroked her back, played with her hair, kissed her hot cheek whenever the urge struck him. She was so lovely, so beautiful, her surrender, her trust, her deep devotion meaning so much to him, more than he’d ever be able to convey.
It surprised him when he heard her question, her voice slightly hoarse. “Will it… always be like that? Here?”
“Most of the time, yes… and more. I won’t lie to you. This is how they live, how we’d be expected to live.”
“Okay.”
His heart skipped a beat at the quiet acceptance he heard. She needed to know all of it though.
“Moving here… it would mean an entirely new level of submission for you. And I’d want that — all of it.”
“What… would that mean?” The tremble in her words made his cock twitch against her bottom.
“Other men will touch you, punish you. Eventually, maybe even use you — if I allowed it.”
“Would you?” She whispered it against his shoulder, kissing him gently.
“Yes, in time — if it was the right man.”
Hunter.
He wouldn’t tell her this, but if it were to be anyone, it would be him.
This day had been a test of much more than Lacey’s submissiveness and obedience. It had been the most difficult test for him. The moment he’d seen Von touch her bottom, the way she’d surrendered to it, the pleasure his friend so obviously took in spanking her.
It was a silent agony. But what was the most confusing part of it was one fact that kept repeating itself in his mind.
With Hunter, he hadn’t felt this way.
With him, he’d felt only possessive lust, a pride at the way Lacey submitted to his best friend. And a great joy that he and his wife could bring even a modicum of pleasure to his heartbroken friend.
No, with Hunter, all avenues were open when it came to his use of Lacey, and though Troy wasn’t sure he could do it at that moment, with time, he thought he might — just might — be able to let Hunter use his wife in any way he saw fit. There was a unique pleasure there in the prospect of sharing her between two men, two dominant men who would compel her submission, force her to yield even more of herself to their will, to their desires.
And just possibly, two men who could love her.
“I… I’ll do it.” She kissed his shoulder again. “Just, I need to know. I need to know you’ll be there, that you’ll still want me, no matter what they make of me. Whatever they do to me…” Her voice was tight, and he could tell she was near tears again. “I need you. Please.”
His heart swelled with pride, and lust, and possessiveness, and pure joy at her words.
“One last thing you need to know, Lacey girl.” He tipped her face up, and he tasted those soft, sweet lips once more. “Someday soon you may become part of White Valley, but no matter what happens, one thing will never, ever, change. You will always be mine. I love you, sweet girl, more than you will ever know.”
She beamed up at him, and in that moment, she never looked more beautiful.
“I love you too, Sir.”
And then they slept, and they no longer feared dreaming of what might be.
# # #
Book III
Lacey’s Surrender
Trent Evans
Prologue
The heavy leather strap cracked against the pale, plump buttocks, leaving behind a scarlet line of pain, the reddened cheeks clenching in time with a forlorn, feminine groan.
“You know better than to tighten that bottom, dear,” Martin said, his fingertips testing the already swelling mark his stroke had left across her flesh. “Just a few more now, and we can be done with this unfortunate business. Be glad we don’t have time for you to join those other disobedient women in their corners.”
The smooth, varnished wood of the angled bench creaked as Martin’s wife, Brooke, stirred, her hips waving in the air as she tried to process the sting and burn of the punishment currently being meted out by her loving, but stern, husband. Her rich evening dress, the same color as her raven hair, was bunched up at the small of her back, her black lace panties pulled down her legs as far as the stout strap that ran across her
thighs would allow. Bound tightly over the apparatus of punishment — one most homes in the very unique community of White Valley were equipped with — the attractive brunette had little choice but to await Martin’s further judgment.
He tapped the dark leather against his palm. “Next time, what will you be doing when you think it’s all right to spend just a little bit more on clothing you don’t really need?”
Brooke’s small voice sounded from the other side of the bench. “Calling you, Sir.”
“That’s right.” Martin whistled in another stroke, the leather landing with a satisfying smack, Brooke crying out for the first time as another thick line darkened upon her already well-marked rump.
“How many more?” Martin asked, glancing over his shoulder at the three men sitting behind the long, cherry wood table that lined one wall of the cozy study. Another common feature of most of the studies or offices in the community, these tables were where the Session sat — and where the women first presented themselves to hear what punishment the men of the Session intended to mete out for their misdeeds. Such informal gatherings were a weekly occurrence in most neighborhoods of White Valley, though the specific attendance of one couple or the next was strictly reserved for the judgment of each particular head of household.
Troy gladly hosted the Session today, his deep excitement at the array of punished females currently decorating his study — including his own beloved wife — was something that would never grow old.
“She’s got two more to go, then her dozen is paid off,” Keenan said, his long finger tapping the page of the large, open book before him on the gleaming tabletop. Sitting to Troy’s left, Keenan consulted the cloth-bounder ledger, nodding as he did so. “She’s the last for today. Too bad.”
Brooke Shafer, like any other woman required to appear at a Session, was expected to bring her Infractions Ledger with her — and woe betide the girl who forgot it.