Valley of Surrender Series - Vol.1

by Trent Evans

  “You don’t… what are you doing?” She forced herself to look up at him, even though it made her feel the subservience of the position, the imbalance of power. He needed to learn though, that she wasn’t so easily intimidated.

  Too late for that.

  “You could’ve cooperated, and maybe even been good enough to have your wrists freed.” He sighed, holding the cuffs up. “But instead you’re getting these. Maybe you’ll make the correct choice next time.”

  She tried to scramble backward on the bed, but his steel-hard hand clamped down on her thigh, holding her fast. Her feet fluttered, then he fixed her with a baleful glare.

  “You kick me and you’re going to regret it, Ms. Moore.”

  Stilling, she tried to swallow down the painful lump in her throat, her heart threatening to pound its way out of her chest. Strangely, a chill ran through her again, her nipples drawing tight, prominent now even through the lace of her brassiere and the too-thin fabric of her shirt.

  “Good choice,” he muttered, dropping to one knee at the foot of the bed and taking hold of one of her feet. He hiked up her pant leg, cold leather wrapping around her ankle.

  “No! Please, you don’t—”

  “Rule number two, Ms. Moore,” he rumbled, not even looking up at her as he bound her other ankle in the thick manacle. “That word isn’t allowed here. You use it, and it’s going to go badly for you.”

  “What the hell do you mean, it’s not allowed here? I’m not a goddamned child!”

  “All evidence to the contrary,” he remarked with a shake of his head. He rose once more, towering over her, the snugness of the leather making her feel even more helpless than she had before.

  “Why…?” She looked up at him again, the darkness in his eyes deepening as he regarded her, the satisfaction plain in their depths. Was this just a game for him? What did he really want?

  “The next time you curse — I’m letting that little ‘goddamned’ retort slide for now — you’re going to be even worse off. Do you understand me, Ms. Moore?”

  She glared at him, clamping her mouth shut to keep her lower lip from quivering. The sense of panic welling within her was something entirely new to her experience, her complete helplessness more overwhelming by the second. Freedom held a sweetness she’d never understood — until the moment Ford had deprived her of it. But now he was proving, in very concrete terms, that there were worse things than mere arrest.

  Much worse.

  The door slid home behind Ford as he exited the cell, a strange relief flooding through her to be momentarily back behind the bars. Alone once more.

  For the moment anyway.

  “Let’s try this again.” Ford took his seat in his chair, as if nothing had happened, his chin resting upon those brawny forearms. “Are you going to cooperate with me?”

  For a moment, Falon couldn’t speak, her tongue seemingly paralyzed. Then she cleared her throat, willing herself to do what it took. Whatever it took.

  “Yes… Sheriff.”

  Ford’s toothsome smile bespoke the wolf cornering its prey.

  “Now, tell me about this source of yours.”

  Chapter 4

  Watching Lacey being led down Columbia was as surreal as it was arousing.

  Hunter had stood outside Paglianos with the crowd, Troy having silently followed Lacey and her guide inside. He knew his friend was not about to let his beloved wife out of his sight — especially considering what was likely to happen inside the otherwise benign Italian-American restaurant.

  Cigarette smoke wafted over from somewhere on his right, and he frowned. Even here in the dream world, he couldn’t quite shake the mundane — and the irritating.

  He’d have liked to have gone in too, to see what ordeal Lacey might be being put through. But that was Troy’s place, his decision to watch over her.

  The crowd around him, several dozens, perhaps more than a hundred, stretched down the sidewalk on Columbia, members of said crowd here and there engaged with the poor applicants as they slowly made their way further down their Walk.

  One of the women — he couldn’t recall her name, but she was the youngest one, slim of hip and bright-eyed, even in her fright — was currently being inspected by a couple seated at one of the many tables outside Paglianos. The young woman had been commanded to bend, quite close to the seated pair, both the man and woman leaning forward to view the naked charms on blatant display, the applicant grimacing as her face flushed beet red.

  “Can you believe this shit?” a familiar deep voice said.

  Hunter looked to his right. Von.

  “I’ve lost track of the number times I’ve said or thought it.” Hunter chuckled. “No way in hell am I complaining though.”

  Von tipped his head toward the dark maw of the entrance to Paglianos. “Lacey get dragged in there?”

  “Troy’s in there with her…”

  “And you wish you were too.” Von’s eyes glittered as he grinned. “What’s stopping you?”

  Hunter didn’t answer for a moment, not at all sure he knew what to say. “Seemed the thing to do, to let him make the call.”

  “You know… there’s something you need to understand.” Von turned to Hunter then, his expression sobering. “Part of what it takes to make it here, to really… fit in, I guess, is to know what she needs — before she does. You catch my drift?”

  “Not really, but I’ve become used to that since I came to this place.” Hunter threw up a hand. “Pretty new, you know, all of this.”

  “Trust your instincts, Hunter. That’s what ninety-nine percent of this place is. Follow them, and you won’t go wrong.”

  “What’s the other one percent?”

  Von leveled his gaze with Hunter. “Cold hard calculation.”

  A cell phone ring sounded in the clear midday air, several people shoving their hands into coats or purses. Von dug his out of the back pocket of his faded jeans, one dark brow arched as he stared down at the screen.

  “Pissed off client?” Hunter knew well how much time general contractors spent on the phone, often with customers who demanded entirely too much, in ridiculously short amounts of time.

  “Worse,” Von muttered, shaking his head, putting the phone to his ear. “Sheriff? What can I do you for?”

  Between long moments watching the debauchery taking place all around him, Hunter watched Von, the man’s face growing increasingly redder, the crease in his brow going from a mild furrow to an absolute canyon. Celina had been stopped about fifty feet from the entrance to Pagliano’s, a man and a woman inspecting the stricture of her bonds, the long, pale fingers of the woman lifting one of Celina’s tightly bound breasts to touch the leather straps running underneath them. Von watched this as he talked softly into the phone, his eyes never leaving his lovely wife, though his stare looked a thousand miles away. Finally, Von hung up, his lips a tight line, his eyes narrowing. He turned to Hunter, laying a hand on his shoulder.

  “I need you to watch over Celina for me.”

  “Von, what do—?”

  “Just do it for me. She knows what’s expected of her, but I want someone keeping an eye on her. You’ll know if you need to step in.”

  “Have you ever had to step in?”

  How was he supposed to know when that might be? He suddenly wished he were inside with Lacey. With her, he knew exactly what was required — and he’d enjoy providing it. Keeping watch over another man’s wife — other than Lacey, that is — was something else entirely.

  Von looked away, the muscles at his jaw bunching. “Not once.” He patted Hunter’s shoulder. “I gotta go. It’ll be fine.”

  “Von, Jesus, what’s going on?”

  But the man was already walking away. Just before he disappeared into the crowd again, he shot Hunter a glance over his shoulder.

  “Need to see the Sheriff. We got trouble.”

  Chapter 5

  “I wonder what possesses a girl to volunteer for this,” the cool feminine voice s
aid off to Lacey’s left.

  Someone chuckled.

  “I suspect volunteer is stretching the truth,” a male voice said. “Either way, it’s good for us. Look at the ass on this one. I’m surprised Troy doesn’t smack that twenty-four seven. I know I would.”

  A roar of laughter rose, and Lacey looked down despite her blindfold, feeling the heat at her cheeks, her embarrassment no less intense for its comparative anonymity.

  It was then that she realized the blindfold might not have been solely intended to debase her. It might well have been a mercy in disguise.

  It was the words that got to her the most. The touching soon enough all seemed to blend together, her arousal and shame transforming it into a single, continuous storm of sensation. Fingers slipped deep inside her pussy, sharp nails scratching irritably at her tight anus, while strong hands yawned her buttocks as wide as they could go. All right there on the sidewalk. But the words, some cruel, some kind, broke into her red haze of lust, her mortification flaring as complete strangers — and sometimes others quite the opposite — commented on the creature on display before them.

  “Who’s this one?” It was the female again, a voice Lacey didn’t recognize. “We can’t see her eyes. Despite how nice this is”—a soft hand patted her bare mons—”we can’t exactly identify her by her little cunt alone.”

  More laughter and catcalls. Either hands or asses were slapped; she couldn’t tell. Had more people gathered around? Her mind, in the darkness, constructed phantom terrors, frights upon frights. All of it amplifying her sense of being reduced to a mute plaything — which only spiraled her arousal higher.

  “Lacey Warren. Applicant number eight,” her hated guide intoned, his clipped cadence formal, almost aloof. Could he really be unaffected by all of this? Was he inured to the spectacle she once more wished she could have just a single look at?

  “Troy’s wife?” The strange male voice whistled low. “I think I’ll take the next invite to the neighborhood session. I wouldn’t mind seeing her put through her paces.”

  This was one of their… neighbors? She searched her memory of the people she’d met thus far since her move to White Valley, trying to match this voice to one of them. But to no avail. This had to be a new person — or someone enjoying messing with Lacey’s mind.

  A hand slapped her breast, stinging heat blazing upon her skin at the harsh blow.

  “Good to see these tits swinging.”

  “That’s all,” the female said, the dismissal clear in her voice. Lacey could almost see the woman’s eyes rolling. As much as Lacey might not like Troy enjoying the sight of another naked woman paraded before him, Lacey wondered if she might like to switch places with that woman.

  Would she be kind — or as harsh — in her place?

  She staggered on, the sounds of slaps, moans, and laughter interspersed all around her as she continued her journey. Another man stopped her a few minutes after she’d been dismissed by the couple. She’d imagined people lining up to fondle her, to enjoy her helpless, naked state. The confusion and heightened senses engendered by the deprivation of her sight made every sound louder, every slight more cutting, every blow fiercer.

  And every pleasure more intense.

  What did that mean? Had Troy requested this, knowing her sensory deprivation would have this effect?

  “Her nipples look sore.”

  It was another male, a slight twang to his voice. West Texas, perhaps as a child, the accent mostly submerged over the years.

  “She’s been a popular attraction,” her guide said, pleasure in his voice.

  Lacey would have liked to claw his fucking eyes out at that moment.

  “I can imagine.” A hand clasped her face, turning her head this way and that. “Let’s have a look at her then.”

  The man proceeded to inspect every part of her body, as if she were a draft horse at the county auction. Like all the others, he zeroed in on her breasts, fondling them with a callous harshness that had her whining behind her gag. He smoothed roughened palms down her belly, before patting her mons. He gave her a little slap there, and she jerked, to muted laughter from the crowd.

  “Nice, swollen pussy on this one. I wonder…” Her labia were splayed apart, the morning air cool upon the moist tissues.

  “What I thought. The filly’s dripping. Got a hot one here.”

  More peals of laughter made her want to curl into a ball, despite the ever present throbbing of her clit.

  A clit his fingers exposed next, slicking back her hood.

  A soft whistle accompanied this, and the man handling her chuckled. “I’d say part of her is enjoying the Walk. What do you say?” The fingers pressed her flesh still wider. “You ever seen one this big?”

  “Not since we got that loaner from the farm in Goldendale,” another slightly higher pitched male voice said, drawing closer.

  “You mean Kurt’s place, right?”

  “Yep, you need to pay a visit one of these days. Down the rabbit hole shit, but you’ll love it.”

  “That one had a hood piercing though, right?” the man with the Texas accent said. “She was swollen continuously from that little stud. I think it would drive little Lacey out of her mind if she had something like that to deal with.”

  Thick fingers pressed up inside her and she drew a sharp breath as they plunged deep, the tips teasing the mouth of her womb.

  “She’s still tight here. The hands would love a chance to test out this pussy, stretch her out a little. Would you like that, girl?”

  She stayed stock still, her heart pounding, hoping the question was rhetorical.

  “Answer your betters, Applicant,” the guide said, his hard hand smacking her ass.

  She tried to say ‘yes, sir,’ her cruel gag reducing it to mortifying gibberish that had the onlookers laughing again.

  “I’ll take that as a yes then,” West Texas voice said.

  Her body turned roughly, those fingers withdrew from her pussy, that same hand clamping upon her shoulder, her juices wet against her skin as she was forced to bend.

  “Those thighs look sore too. Poor girl.” He touched her buttocks, lifting and pinching each one in turn, then squeezing them gently. “Only a little pink here though. Smart man. The Council fines aren’t pretty for Applicants presented with marked asses. These plump little cheeks aren’t gonna stay unmarked long once she’s put on Display though. I might have to make a return visit once they’re staked out.”

  Those strong hands spun her back around, straightening her. He leaned in close, his breath warm on her cheek. “Need to see if I can convince Troy to loan you out to my farm for a couple days. I’ll have this wet cunt of yours almost as worn out as your ass will be. We don’t coddle fillies on my farm. You’ll work dawn to dusk — then you’ll give your thanks in your pen afterward. Might give your strict Master a few ideas, you know?”

  Lacey made a sound she hoped he’d take to be acquiescence, even as she fervently hoped never to set one foot in such a place. Fantasy was one thing, but what she imagined she’d experience at that man’s hands was something else.

  So is it fear — or fascination?

  Perhaps it was both, though she didn’t know what that might mean. Was complete subjugation something she could actually go through? No, not with a stranger. She knew that much.

  But with Troy? With Hunter?

  Lacey wasn’t sure there was anything she wouldn’t allow those two men. For this one day, she may be this town’s plaything. But for the rest of her days, she knew the truth when it came to those two amazing, terrifying men in her life, those twin poles of anguish and ecstasy.

  She was theirs. In all things.

  Lacey stumbled further along on her journey, with only the cruel grip of her guide to orient her, more slaps, female cries, and deep male voices sounding off to her right.

  Her guide led her off the curb then, and she thought perhaps they’d crossed a street, the pavement beneath her heels slightly softer, suggestin
g asphalt.

  Then he stopped her once more, a gust of wind cooling the sweat upon her body, her nipples suddenly like ice.

  “You know the stairs before you. Now, start climbing, Applicant.”

  Oh God, no.

  She’d heard the stories of how a Walk ended, but when she thought of what lay at the top of the stairs that circled up the small promontory point at the north end of the park, her mouth went dry, her gag sticking to her tongue.

  With a loud slap, heat burst upon her ass. “Get moving, or you’ll be whipped every step of the way.”

  A wave of pleased murmuring rippled around her. She still had people watching!

  As she took the first faltering step, the heels making each movement a terror, she wondered one thing over and over.

  Where are Troy and Hunter?

  Chapter 6

  The restraint of her ankles was more effective than she’d ever have believed. The feeling of helplessness was so acute, panic threatened to overwhelm her. But she’d managed it.

  The fact that she’d stonewalled Ford on his questions helped. It gave her the strength to keep going. He’d see soon enough that he was wasting his time.

  She tried to ignore the sinking feeling deep in her belly at the sound of the gentle squeak of the front door opening. Ford glanced at her from behind his desk, then rose, striding out of sight to her left.

  Her bitterness flared anew at her inability to see anything other than the little section of the room occupied by Ford’s desk.

  Rumbling, deep male voices sounded somewhere in the direction Ford had headed, her heart rate increasing by the second. Her acute feeling of loneliness was almost crushing now. In Portland, she had friends — everywhere she went.

  Here? The only man she might have called a friend was the one who’d bound her hands and feet and thrown her ass in a jail cell.

  She looked at the polished tile of the floor, her mind fixating for a moment on why there needed to be a floor drain in the tiny space.

  Get it together, Fal. You can handle this. He’s a hick Sheriff. Humor him.