Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  She didn’t have time to absorb exactly how that might go, the third stroke smacking her just above the backs of her knees, the pain the worst yet. She dipped her knees, bringing her hips in, trying to cope with the fiery sting, her eyes already watering. How many?

  “Get your bottom back up, girl.” A strong hand clamped her hip, jerking her upright, her legs straightening, exposing the vulnerable thighs once more to the pitiless lash.

  Two strokes, both hard, landed in quick succession, the tip of the leather biting like fire along the outside of her right thigh, her long, keening whine bitten finally off with every ounce of will she could muster.

  “Very good,” Von said, off her right. “She felt those.”

  I felt all of them, you motherfucker!

  She cringed inwardly, knowing the terrible punishment she’d be in for if she ever let such intemperate words past her lips. Von and Troy both believed in stoicism under the lash, and in the case of her husband, defiance in that regard would only earn her — she knew from hard experience — more strokes.

  Much better to endure, show him how much she wanted to obey him — and focus on the sweet reward that came after the pain.

  She hadn’t yet come to terms with the way harsh punishment still turned her on, how being taken to the edge of her tolerance made her clit sing, her sex gush. Troy, of course, had learned of it long ago, and more than once, he’d taken her deeper into the land of red torment than she ever thought she could go, masochistic tendencies or not.

  He could be trusted though. Lacey know he’d never take her too far, subject her to more than she could endure. It was one of the things she loved most about the fearsome alpha male she found herself married to. Yes, he used her body hard, subjected her to more than many women might want — but it was something they both knew she needed, craved.

  And it was a dynamic that brought them both even closer. A deep love, strengthened by pain, tempered by ordeal, reinforced by trust. It was something sweet and terrible all at once.

  Lacey knew she was a very lucky girl indeed.

  Several strikes of the leather cracked against her thighs in rapid succession, the pain building with each one until she was up on her toes, her breath coming in gasps, the heat in her flesh scalding. She knew she’d be bruised from this, and she also knew she’d be staring wide-eyed at the colors in the mirror over the next week, her clit hard, her mouth dry as she remembered how she’d garnered such marks.

  You’re hopeless, Lacey.

  A hand tested her flesh, pinching her thigh gently, then patting the outside of her hip. She whimpered as fingertips testing the swelling of a stinging welt.

  “Hmm, I think she can have a few more.”

  “No!” She instantly regretted the outburst, closing her eyes tight as a very hard hand reawakened the fire in her bottom, sharp smacks making her flesh jiggle, the embarrassment at the ripple and bounce of her buttocks in some ways worse than the fiery pain caused by each spank.

  “You be quiet, girl,” Troy said, his calm voice like velvet wrapped in steel. “You’re done when we say you’re done. Understand?”

  Lacey wiped a tear from her cheek, willing herself not to start crying. That would only make her mortification worse.

  She cried out as a sharp slap to her hanging breast sent it bounding into its twin, her nipple throbbing angrily.

  “Understand?”

  “Yes, Master! I’m sorry.”

  “Good girl.” Troy stepped away again. “Let’s give her a few more, Hunt.”

  Flesh-warmed leather pressed just under her bottom cheeks, a different hand stroking her flank.

  “Almost done, Lacey,” Hunter murmured, a hand patting her bottom fondly, the leather stroking in circles against her. “Christ, she’s gorgeous.”

  She smiled a little at that, even as a fat tear slipped down her cheek, catching at the edge of her upper lip. She licked the warm saltiness away. Hunter’s normally smooth, deep voice was ragged at the edges, roughened by the lust she hoped was there. Somehow, it made it easier — and even more sexual — when she knew the man paddling her was aroused by it. Long ago, she’d learned to stop questioning that, accepting that it was just part of her, as integral to her as any other part of her personality.

  Lacey was just blessed to have found not one, but perhaps two men who seemed to accept — and revel — in this aspect of her desires.

  They certainly revel in using your ass.

  Shuddering, that first night came back to her. The first time Troy had taken her ass, at the end of a Maintenance Night. It had opened up whole new avenues of delight for them both — and it had bound her to him even more. She’d since learned a much deeper — and even more darkly sexual — meaning of the word surrender.

  The paddle cracked over first the left thigh, then the right, catching the left even harder the second time, the harsh pain, drawing more tears from her eyes, though she managed to avoid outright crying. It hurt sooo much on the thighs — and yet, she knew that by Troy’s standards this was going easy on her. It made her simultaneously fear and look forward to what might happen this weekend.

  Then she glanced up, across the greenbelt — and her breath caught in her throat.

  Two people stood on the deck. A man and a woman, the man with his hands on the rail, looking directly toward them. He appeared to be wearing sunglasses, but at this distance, she couldn’t make out much more detail. He appeared well tanned, and was perhaps — judging by the hue of his hair — somewhat older than them.

  Oh God, no.

  Lacey wanted to curl up into a ball. Without thinking she bolted upright, trying to turn, despite the fact the motion sent her naked breasts swinging wildly. Yes, being forced like this was a turn-on, even if she’d never admit it — but being watched like this took the mortification to an entirely new plane.

  A hand twisted into the weight of her hair, pulling her up short. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Troy pulled in close, his hand clamping around one of her swaying breasts, squeezing hard, hurting her. “Back over the rail, bad girl, or I’m going to let Hunter have a go at these breasts of yours with his paddle.”

  Lacey’s heart felt like it might stop at the words. “Please… no, not…”

  Allowing herself to be put back in position, her tears spilled over. Despite this, she could feel the slickness at the insides of her thighs, her clit throbbing, her nipples seeming to sense every fucking molecule of air as her swollen breasts swung back and forth below her.

  “Yes, they are watching. And so are we.” A stinging slap landed upon her hip, Troy’s command almost a growl. “Spread those legs, and hollow your back.”

  “Troy!”

  “They can’t see you there — but we can. And we want to see more.”

  The paddle tapped her bottom, a warning, and she complied, easing her feet even further apart, the cool afternoon breeze finding fresh, moist flesh, her embarrassment deeper, knowing how wet she’d become — and knowing they could see it all now.

  “Up on your toes now, bad girl. Heels out.”

  “Oh my God, Troy, please.”

  He peppered the inside of one soft thigh with quick smacks. “Now, Lacey! There, that’s better. You’re to show that cunt to the man who’s disciplining you. Let him see everything.” His voice changed slightly, as if he’d turned back toward everyone else. “See how wet she is? I’ve never seen anyone like her. She’s going to be a hit on Saturday, I think.”

  “First time for her, isn’t it?” Von said, breaking his silence. Celina murmured something Lacey couldn’t make out, and Von shushed his wife. “The Walk should be… interesting, to say the least.”

  Lacey’s mind whirled at the possibilities, terror and wonder and a crazy elation warring within her. Here in White Valley, though it was never easy — and always came with trials — she could be who she was. She could be the sexual creature she craved being, have her boundaries pushed, her husband helping her discover new insights
into her desires, needs that she still didn’t fully understand.

  Lacey buried her face in her arms, swearing she could feel the weight of the strangers’ gazes, surely enjoying this forced display of her debasement. The lust of the men behind her was a palpable thing, as they too drank in the blatant signs of her arousal, her shaming betrayal by her own body, her own animal lusts.

  Her husband was back at her ear then, the paddle taking up another round of tapping as Hunter gauged his next stroke.

  “Those people over there, they might not be able to make out your face, Lacey girl, but they can see plenty. The way your tits bounce and swing. The way you’re presenting yourself, surrendering yourself to us. They see a bad girl getting her just desserts from her men.”

  Men?

  Joy surged within her, despite her mortification at his words. Could it really happen the way they’d talked about? Of course, Troy had cautioned her. Perhaps Christmas was a one-time thing? A sweet moment, as special as it was ephemeral. But she’d pushed, and talked, and then pushed some more. She’d been spanked to tears more than once for being a little too strident, a little too opinionated as they’d watched the slow motion destruction of Hunter’s marriage. A marriage to a woman that couldn’t — or wouldn’t — give that sweet, handsome man what he needed. Needs only a certain type of woman could really understand.

  You mean a woman like you?

  Why not? If that was the case, then so be it. She knew this man’s needs, knew what he wanted from a woman. The sweetness of surrender volunteered… or taken.

  Would he explore it though, would he have the courage to see what happened? Would she? That was what White Valley was — among many other dark and wondrous things. It was a place of possibilities.

  She still didn’t know what might happen, and the bittersweet uncertainty twisted at her heart, made her ache for Hunter… in more ways than one.

  The paddle struck home again, a moderate stroke, but one that built the fire in her flesh still higher.

  “Last one,” Hunter said, and the paddle hit her hardest yet, driving her back up onto her toes, making her bite into her arm to stifle her cry. God, she hated getting it on the thighs.

  “All done now, Lacey girl.” Troy was back at her side, then Hunter joined them on her left. Hands caressing her scalded flesh, fingers stroked through her hair, deep, rough male murmurs vibrating through her as she slowly brought her weeping under control, her breathing slowing. She’d forgotten, if only for a moment, that she was outdoors, in full view, an afternoon’s diversion of submission, discipline, and pain.

  Breathing deep, she chanced a glance over her arms, toward the anonymous watchers. They were still there, fresh mortification making her whimper, while her clit continued to throb, hoping for something, anything, a simple touch from anything other than the torturous caress of the cool air.

  The man hugged the woman close to his side, raising something. Then the light caught it, glinting, reflecting.

  It was a glass.

  Here’s to you. I hope she learned her lesson, she imagined the man saying.

  The two figures walked back into the house, and Lacey hid her face in her arms once again.

  Someone stooped down behind her, fingers at her thighs, evaluating, testing marks, stroking, making her hiss as one swollen weal was gently examined.

  “You’re taking a risk…” Von said.

  Troy grunted, standing. “They’ll fade by Saturday. The Council said nothing about the thighs.” He gave Lacey’s hip a squeeze. “Turn around. On your knees, girl.”

  OhmyGod.

  Of course, she was used to this, the post-punishment thanks, the absolution only granted by hot seed swallowed down gratefully. But would he? She wanted to, oh yes, she wanted to very badly, her clit singing at the idea. But out here?

  And even if Troy allowed it, would he want her too? Was she ready to go there with Hunter?

  As she turned and knelt, looking from Troy then to a suddenly uncertain Hunter, she knew the answer.

  Fuck yes, I do.

  “What is expected of my woman after she’s been disciplined, Lacey?” Troy crossed his arms over his chest, his gold ring glinting in the sunlight against his tan skin. “Tell us.”

  She gulped, looking down a moment, summoning up the courage she needed for this final sweet humiliation, cementing her subjugation as complete.

  “I am to take my Master’s cock into my mouth and swallow his come.”

  Troy grinned down at her, the bulge in his jeans looking so swollen. Maybe he’d let her take care of more than one—

  “The problem is — I wasn’t the one who punished you, was I?”

  “No, Master.” Lacey glanced at Hunter, whose eyes went wide. The bulge of his erection made her mouth water. She’d always wondered… would she finally get the chance now?

  Please.

  “Today, while I may be your Master, I’m not the one you need to answer to. There’s someone else who you need to pay your penance to.” Troy gave a slight tip of his head toward Hunter.

  Thank you!

  Gazing up at Hunter, for one moment, she feared he’d back out on the whole thing. Maybe they’d pushed him too far, too soon? She’d cry if she lost everything right at the last gate, so close…

  Then something happened in Hunter’s dark gaze, as if a door had opened inside of him that led to a part of a man she was quite familiar with.

  The conqueror, the victor.

  She swallowed hard.

  “Take out my cock,” Hunter said, his voice low, tense.

  Afraid her pussy might actually start dripping on the weathered boards of the deck, she unzipped his fly, easing the heavy, veined length of him out of his underwear, the hot, smooth steel of his shaft bliss in her hand.

  She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Waiting.

  “You know what to do,” Hunter said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  Licking the glistening fluid at the tip of the broad head, she took him deep, needing to feel him inside her. She stuck her tongue out, stroking it along the underside of his cock as his hand took hold of her by the hair.

  “Don’t move. Stay right there,” Hunter said.

  Lacey froze, the heavy, pulsing cock hot against her tongue. He tasted of salt, and sweat, his clean male smell making her almost moan, perhaps a hint of sandalwood teasing her nostrils. She and her girlfriends knew that uniquely masculine scent well, and it was something that seemed to affect her on an instinctive, primitive level.

  Her friends had dubbed it ‘Eau de Testosterone.’ Whatever it was, it made her mouth water, and her pussy gush every time.

  Only this time it was Hunter’s scent, and not her husband’s.

  Hunter’s hand touched her hair, then his fist clenched in it, the roots stinging a little.

  “When I come, you’re going to swallow every drop, Lacey.”

  She met his eyes, her mouth still full of him. She saw compassion, lust, and possessiveness in Hunter’s dark gaze. His sly little smile said it all though.

  Yes.

  Lacey took him deep then, and she worked up to a frenetic pace, working that thick cock with lips, tongue and teeth, Hunter using her hair as a bridle and a guide, something that made her pussy drip even more.

  His.

  “Deeper, faster,” Hunter said, his voice more of a rasp than a tone, his fist squeezing tighter, her scalp burning now. She complied, her lips numbing as she went faster, closing her eyes, concentrating on bringing him to that pinnacle, this first time so exciting yet so nerve-wracking all at once.

  What if this scares him off? Did we push too hard?

  Hunter’s low, rumbling groan seemed to answer that though. His balls, heavy in her palm, suddenly drew tight, the thrusting shaft swelling still further, and before he could make another sound, hot seed filled her mouth, the heavy head of his cock butting against the back of her throat repeatedly.

  Swallowing hard, once, twice, she gently licked him, loving that intima
te connection as he came down, the corded, hard muscles of his thighs shuddering and twitching, his low murmur each time she caressed the heavy weight of his balls. Then he appeared to reach his limit, pulling away, his softening member parting her lips with a wet sound.

  She looked up at them both then, the bright sun high in the sky, Hunter, tucking himself back into his jeans. Troy’s arms were crossed, a broad grin betraying the pride-filled approval hidden behind the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses.

  “Jesus Christ, she’s a good girl,” Hunter said, face flushed, his hand just touching her lips. She impulsively kissed the roughness of his knuckle.

  Troy lowered the glasses down the bridge of his nose. “Hunt, you have no idea.”

  Chapter 8

  Downtown, such as it was in a cozy hamlet like White Valley, was buzzing. The familiar low-level anticipation that always preceded an event like that on tap for Saturday. Such anticipation was one of the reasons there was rarely a shortage of people eager to move to the place.

  The Council made sure to keep tight control of that. Mostly.

  Ford eased the Tahoe down Columbia Street, which served as White Valley’s equivalent of ‘Main Street.’ Columbia ran along the northern edge of Preserve Park, one of Ford’s favorite features of an endlessly fascinating community. The park was like an oasis, surrounded on three sides by mixed use, modern construction, roadways bordering it to the north, east, and west. The towering Douglas firs that dominated the space cast pleasing shadows across the street, lending a welcome — if temporary — refuge from the blazing summer sun. Columbia was lined with restaurants, and boutique shopping, numerous people crowded around tables along the sidewalk across the street from the park. There was even a Starbucks there, though it had taken very careful negotiation with The Council and the owners to make that particular deal possible.

  Off to Hunter’s right, he passed what was perhaps the one incongruous sight on Columbia Street — Warren Electronics, an old, narrow building shoehorned in between the gleaming contemporary glass and steel of a bank, and a designer shoe outlet. Grandfathered in to the new, modern “town square” feel the city planners were going for, Warren Electronics had been here since the founding — and it wasn’t about to go anywhere anytime soon if its stubborn owners had anything to say about it.