by Trent Evans
“There, that’s the one,” Troy said with a broad grin, walking around her. The dress was of a thin, gray fabric that while loose, still flattered the figure, forming to her body in such a way as to emphasize the sweep of her wide hips, the jut of her full breasts, the black cincher at her waist only highlighting her curves, the lush femininity that was Lacey.
They watched her as she put her hair up, the Japanese sticks adding a note of class even knuckle-dragger Hunter could understand. When she asked Troy what jewelry to wear, her husband grunted.
“Necklace only — nothing too expensive.”
“Okay…” Lacey glanced at Hunter, a puzzled look in her eye.
She chose a silver choker, a heart-shaped locket at the center.
“Nothing in that locket is there?” Troy asked.
Lacey’s fingers touched the silver. “Um, no. Why?”
“You’ll see.” Troy cocked a thumb toward the cherry wood dresser. “Forget something?”
“No…”
“Underwear, dear.”
Lacey’s eyes flew open, her hand over her mouth. “I for— wait. I’m not permitted to wear panties though, right?”
Troy elbowed Hunter gently. “She stopped even asking a long time ago.”
“It was both a bra and panties today, Lacey. Be thankful I’m not ordering stockings and a garter belt too.”
“Yes, Master,” she murmured, slipping by them to open one of the drawers, her fingers flipping through the panties.
“These okay?” She held up a ridiculously tiny white lace thong.
The pleasure plain in Troy’s wolfen smile, he nodded.
Both men watched in rapt silence as she pulled the panties up and under the dress. She turned her back to them as she shrugged the dress off both shoulders, but Troy didn’t rebuke her. Evidently, he thought — and Hunter certainly agreed — that watching her put on her bra, from any angle, was just fine with him.
Putting herself back to rights, she turned to them once more, the light gray fabric of the dress and her lace bra completely failing to hide the prominent points of hard nipples. It appeared Troy was right, as usual.
He caught his friend’s gaze, a wordless question.
“No time — though I’d love to. We have to get her into town in time for the Surrender. That’s as important as the Walk itself.”
For the first time, disquiet clouded Lacey’s beautiful eyes, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. “Help me with my shoes?”
Hunter held out an arm and she grasped it, stooping to slip on the heels. They were strappy — and very high.
“I think those do a lot more than hint at slutty,” Hunter said to nobody in particular.
“I picked them for her. I think they’ll help get her in the right state of mind.” Troy patted her rounded hip as she tightened the straps at her ankles. “And how they make her ass move should be illegal.”
When she straightened, color flushed in her cheeks, despite her tight smile. “Ready to go.”
Troy extended an arm toward the stairs. “You first, girl.”
Though it was unjust, neither man offered to help her negotiate the stairs, though both stayed close, ready to grab her in case she stumbled. Watching her mince down in the ultra-high heels was an erotic experience unlike anything else, her appealing near-helplessness somehow making her even sexier, calling to the ruthless male animal within him.
Why did vulnerability provoke? He’d never quite understood it, but he suspected it was the ancient, instinctive predator/prey dynamic, passed down through the eons in human DNA.
And humans were most definitely predators.
“Take the back seat with Lacey,” Troy said as they walked out to the truck.
“I can drive.”
“She needs some company,” Troy said, as they watched her clamber up into the truck, her dress stretching appealingly over her round bottom. Troy gripped Hunter’s shoulder. “Keep her company — while you still can.”
“Troy, she’s your wife. I’ll drive.”
Shaking his head, Troy climbed in behind the wheel, leaning out to look at Hunter. “She needs you. She needs someone who wasn’t responsible for sending her up for this crazy shit.” Troy winked, then slammed his door closed.
Lacey took Hunter’s hand as he snuggled in next to her.
“Thank you, Hunter — for everything.”
Her fingers trembled, and she squeezed his hand, flashing him an anxious smile. “Sorry. I-I’m so nervous.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “This is going to go just fine. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Chapter 13
The images of what was about to happen played over and over in his mind. Hunter gave her one last hug before helping her out of the truck. Unlike the previous morning, today the sun was bright and strong, the azure sky utterly clear.
Beautiful day to hand over your woman.
It didn’t surprise him when Troy had parked the truck in front of the Selkirk. It made sense, really. The entire process was spectacle. Why not conduct it in the center of town, before everyone?
The knot of men standing on the sidewalk before the still-closed front entrance to the box office were dressed in severe black single-breasted suits, all three men wearing mirrored lens sunglasses. At first, he thought of a scene from The Matrix, then one of the men took off his glasses, the icy cool appraisal in his eyes far more chilling than anything he’d seen in those movies. Eight other women stood off to one side, lined up like raw recruits before their drill sergeant. All of them, like Lacey, looked as if they’d dressed for a nice night out on the town, or an important boardroom meeting, their clothing ranging from business chic, to daring evening wear. One woman on the end stood out particularly — Celina.
Dressed in a daring deep blue dress, the tanned cleavage spilling from the low-cut bodice, she seemed even more overdressed than Lacey did. Hunter didn’t know why but something about this was an illicit, almost embarrassing turn-on to him. Of course, Troy had given him the run-down of what to expect, but he didn’t really know the details yet. He couldn’t know exactly how the event was going to go down.
Lacey turned to them, looking up at both Troy and Hunter, her gorgeous eyes wide, lower lip trembling ever so slightly. Her hands were shaking as she took one of their hands in hers.
“I—I’m scared.”
“Nothing to be scared of,” Troy said, kissing her on the forehead. “We’ll be here the entire time. Nothing more will happen than you can bear. If it does, they answer to me.” Troy glanced at Hunter. “And him.”
“I don’t really know what to expect,” Hunter said, stepping close to Lacey, leaning his head down to touch hers. “But we won’t let you be hurt. No way in hell. Be brave for us.”
Lacey smiled up at them then, her eyes tear-bright. Though her hands still trembled as they let them go, she walked with a new confidence, her shoulders back, chin up, taking her place next to Celina. She was scared — and had every reason to be — but she was going to do this. For them.
Pride, gratitude, and no small amount of selfish lust bloomed within Hunter at that moment, and he was unable to suppress the no-doubt goofy grin on his face. There was no way he should have been looking forward to this so much. But he was.
The whole town was.
Another truck pulled up behind theirs, Hunter looking back over a shoulder to see who it might be. They’d been the last of the couples to arrive for the surrendering of the Applicants for the Walk.
It was Sheriff Mathis.
The tall man walked toward them, a thumb in the black leather gun belt, the other clasping the radio mic at his shoulder. Mathis said something into the mic as he walked, then looked over at them, a smile brightening his normally taciturn features.
“Lovely day for a Walk, isn’t it?” Troy clapped Mathis on the shoulder, shaking the lawman’s hand. “Wasn’t sure if you’d decided to sit out this one.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Fo
rd said with a sly twitch of his lips. “Just… had to button up a couple things.”
Troy inclined his head. “She leave town?”
Ford nodded. “Yesterday morning. Followed her to Highway 97 myself. She’s gone.”
“Are you… happy about that?”
“Jesus, Troy, give it a rest.”
Troy elbowed Hunter, tilting his head toward him in a conspiratorial murmur. “Sheriff won’t admit it, but I think he was sweet on that hot little blonde.”
Ford rolled his eyes. “Asshole. She was trouble — more trouble than you probably realize. Ms. Moore knew more than any reporter we’ve ever had show up here. I’m just glad she finally gave up the scent.”
One of the men in the black suits stepped forward, addressing the slowly gathering throng of people who’d lined up on the sidewalk to take in the festivities.
Jesus, you’re a dick for calling it that.
A debasement would have been a far more accurate statement.
“The committee has received the applications in good order, and the surrender of the Applicants is complete.”
The man’s voice reminded Troy of a Baptist preacher just starting to get warmed up from his pulpit, preparing to rain down the fire and brimstone in earnest.
The black-suited man continued. “Before we begin, are there any objections or mitigating circumstances preventing any of these Applicants from taking The Walk? If so, speak now.”
The onlookers remained largely silent, a few of them whispering amongst themselves.
Fixing the crowd with a predatory grin, the man in the black suit nodded. “Let’s begin.”
The three men, rather than starting at the beginning of the line, where the woman nearest the crowd stood, instead walked down to the other end, standing before Lacey. Her mouth worked soundlessly as she looked upon them, her frantic gaze flitting to Hunter and Troy.
No.
Hunter took a step toward her, unable to help it. Though even the idea of what was about to happen made his cock hard as a rock, it was that look in her eye that had him moving.
Troy gripped his arm, squeezing bruisingly hard. “Steady, Hunt. She’s okay.”
Hunter blew out a breath, turning his head so Lacey wouldn’t be able to read his lips. “Fuck, this isn’t… what I thought it would be like.”
“Then you better hang on.” Troy turned a cool gaze to him, fixing him in place. “Because it’s about to get nuts.”
One of the men put his hand straight into the bodice of Lacey’s dress, and yanked down hard, the sound of ripping fabric echoing high and clear across the silent throng, Lacey’s surprised yelp bitten off quickly as her bounteous breasts were revealed to the onlookers, the nipples already hardening to tight points. The men made quick work of her, dragging the ruined dress down from her shoulders, spinning her around and tearing the dress again at the small of her back, the wobbling of her breasts quite visible even from behind as they swung wildly from side to side. The men shook her as they yanked the remnants of her clothing down her legs, pulling each of her feet free of the dress. They spun her around again to face the crowd, ripping the Japanese sticks from her hair, the wood clattering jarringly to the pavement, the thick black locks tumbling down, partially covering her face. One of the men held her chin high with a big hand as he slipped two fingers under the choker necklace. He looked into Lacey’s eyes a moment, then he tore the necklace off, the metal links failing in several spots, silver pieces arcing out toward the crowd as the wrecked accessory fell to the sidewalk. The men grasped her upper arms, marching her over to the wall of the Selkirk, along the sidewalk, forcing her hands up until her palms were flat against the cinder block above her head. Her heels were kicked apart until her naked sex was quite visible between trembling thighs still bearing the fading pink marks of her previous punishments.
The crowd murmured approvingly, but Hunter was torn by what he’d seen. On one hand it was an erotic sight like nothing he’d ever witnessed, even more so because it was Lacey. He’d wished it were his hands handling her charms, exposing her to all who watched. But on the other hand, his possessiveness flared in him again, the primitive urge to throw her over his shoulder and run back home with her was so strong, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to keep it in check without Troy’s restraining arm holding him back.
“This is how it’s supposed to go, Hunt,” Troy said, his voice low now, almost hoarse, his gaze glittering as he looked on. “Trust me, she may be scared, but her cunt is going to be absolutely dripping before this is over with.”
But there wasn’t time to think any more on it, the crowd growing by the minute, the onlookers edging closer as one by one, the black-suited fiends forcibly stripped and bared each woman. When Celina’s turn came, she resisted for a moment, pulling at the grip of one of the men. Von’s warning growl vibrated the air above the rising murmuring of the crowd, but Hunter couldn’t see the man among the press of the throng. Celina closed her eyes, her throat working as she relented, allowing the men to manhandle her at their leisure, her olive-toned breasts swinging in turn as they tore her own dress from her body. Her darker color made a bewitching contrast as she too was placed against the wall, her shorter stature and slightly more dramatic curves displayed next to the pale feminine loveliness of Lacey’s form.
Then the three men went to work on the others, the crowd seeming to get more enthusiastic with each female body exposed to their leering gazes. The reactions of the women varied considerably as their shame overtook them, their debasement complete. Some simply looked out, wide-eyed, seemingly in shock as they were disrobed. One, a slender woman with trim hips and high, jutting breasts, was particularly striking, her bright blue and pink streaked locks an appealing contrast against her pale, naked flesh, silver studs piercing her pink nipples, the hint of more metal at the seam of her bare sex before the men spun her around and placed her against the wall too.
One particularly voluptuous woman, still quite attractive though deep into her forties, whimpered softly as her outfit, a tasteful slate-colored business suit, was literally cut away from her curvy body, her red lips forming into a shocked O. The transformation was remarkable, the straight brown hair going from its single dark plait to a riot of sable locks as she was reduced from composed, modern professional to the status of blushing, naked supplicant as demanded by the traditions of The Walk. Scattered applause rippled through the crowd as her heavy, white breasts sprang into the warm sunshine, the three men completing her denuding in mere moments. One of them gave her a smack on her wide, plump bottom, seeming to snap her out of her momentary shock as they made her take her place with the other women.
In a shockingly short time, all nine Applicants were naked, lined against the wall in nothing but their high heels and their quiet shame.
“It never gets old.” Sheriff Mathis said, stepping up to stand next to Hunter. “Never.”
The first man in the black suit who’d addressed the crowd, turned to them again, his keen gray eyes surveying them with a cool interest.
“Per our tradition, the Applicants will follow the path of the Walk, through the usual route.” His gaze grew harder then as he glared at the onlookers. “You know the rules — do not test them. You may touch, but no penetration or exchange of bodily fluids is allowed. You may not take the Applicants inside any structure alone. They must be accompanied. You may speak to them, but they are forbidden to reply. They may be stopped, for short periods, but undue delays of their Walk will not be tolerated.” The man’s stare swept the crowd for a moment, then he continued. “As is custom, following their Walk, the Applicants will be displayed at the viewpoint for one hour before the auction commences.”
He nodded toward the other black-suits, who opened one of the bags they’d brought along, drawing out a mass of leather straps, bright polished buckles and paper thin cloth the color of fresh snow. Though Hunter didn’t understand why, five of the women, all of them more slender of build — including the young woman with
the multi-colored hair and piercings — were hurriedly fitted in the white gowns. The outfits were little more than loose, vertical panels that hung down to mid-thigh, more highlighting and enhancing the naked females than hiding anything. Heads bowed, each of them was made to stand in a line once more, the white cloth fluttering in the cool breeze, exposing pale thighs and the curls of dark pubic hair, the prominent, achingly hard nipples, the scarlet blush of cheeks set off brilliantly by the pale hued gowns.
But Lacey and Celina and the mature, curvy woman who’d been wearing the business suit were to suffer a different fate, Hunter’s cock immediately testing the strength of his jeans’ zipper at the sight of the women being wrapped in the leather harnesses. Tight straps crisscrossed the women’s chests, more straps wrapped firmly around the base of each breast, forcing the globes out into obscene, wobbling prominence, the dark nipples hard under the morning sun. More straps crossed and re-crossed down the soft, flat bellies, drawn deeply into the creases between pubis and thigh, squeezing and presenting the naked pussies. Turned back toward the wall again, the straps were drawn up between the legs to meet in the valley between quaking buttocks, the leathers tied off at a broad gold ring snugly fitted to the small of the back. Then Lacey’s arms were drawn behind her, more straps binding her wrists to the opposite elbow, as efficient a box tie as Hunter had ever seen in any Shibari video.
Celina’s arms, rather than be tied cruelly behind her back were instead bound tightly to her front, just under her breasts, lifting and presenting them as if produce at the market, the display even more humiliating than that forced upon Lacey. Both women were silenced with huge gags forcing their mouths wide open, their white teeth bright against the dark brown leather. Thick, padded blindfolds completed their subjugation, Celina seeming frozen in place while Lacey looked blindly from side to side, obviously trying in vain to find even a sliver of light. Their thick, dark locks drawn back into simple ponytails, both Lacey and Celina were led to stand with the other women, the black-suited devils drawing them each by a nipple, guiding the gagged and bound women into their rightful place in line.