by Trent Evans
“No, Sir.”
“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered, slipping from the clutch of her bottom, locking gazes with Troy and shaking his head.
That was one avenue off limits to them tonight.
Troy patted Lacey on the hip as he climbed from the tub, his erection bobbing before him. His best friend was in just as much agony as Hunter was.
“Get her finished up and I’ll make us something to eat.” Troy said, wrapping a towel around his waist.
She arched from the tile, her breasts dangling between her arms as Troy knelt down to give her a final, lingering kiss. “Be a good girl for your Sir.”
Wrapped in her black terrycloth robe, they practically fed her themselves, passing her between them, placing morsels in her mouth, holding her wineglass for her, urging her to drink deep, all the while their hands as busy fondling her charms as hers were upon them both. The meal seemed to buoy her, her energy level spiking, her touch becoming more insistent. Soon it devolved into more kissing, each man seeming to need yet more of those delicious lips, her robe now spread wide for their questing hands to fondle her luscious breasts again, their fingers quickly pinching her bath softened nipples back into deep red, aching hard erection.
Troy drew her to her feet, her head dropping back, her robe falling completely open as he feasted on the hollow of her throat. Her husband, dressed in nothing but shorts and a gray t-shirt, yanked the robe from her shoulders, taking her by the hair and meeting Hunter’s gaze. “Ready?”
“I’ll clean up.” Hunter grinned. “Get her straightened out, and I’ll be right there.”
The dishes done, Hunter sauntered down the hall toward the Master bedroom, his heart already pounding, his throbbing cock tenting the front of his boxer shorts. They’d waited so long for this moment, Lacey finally back where she belonged — in their home, and under their control once more.
What he saw in the bedroom made his jaw drop, and his cock ache anew. Lacey had been bound over the foot of the bed, a thick, black strap tight over the small of her back, her broad, round bottom presented to mouthwatering perfection. Her arms were outstretched upon the mattress, wrists bound in lengths of black satin to the front bedposts. Troy stood near her head, his cock bulging under the strictures of his shorts. In his clenched fist he held a folded cloth the color of midnight. Lacey’s eyes were big and bright as she looked up at her husband, trying to crane her head back to look at Hunter too when she realized he’d entered the room.
Troy gave Hunter a slow nod, a subtle request to stay where he was. Hunter couldn’t help but stroke the length of himself as he stared at the prostrate beauty’s body, Troy’s solemn words only amplifying Hunter’s arousal.
“This is the ritual of The Return, Lacey. We follow this ritual each time the woman we love, the property we cherish, leaves us to submit to the Walk. It’s the symbolic return of the woman to her proper place, at her Master’s feet, humbled, obedient, and surrendered to him once more. It will be this way each and every time, Lacey. You will return to us, and kneel for us, for both your loving Master — and your loving Sir. Just as it was meant to be, just as it always will be.”
Troy unfolded the cloth he was holding, spreading it across the mattress just above her head. In elegant script, the word OBEY had been sewn with white thread across the dark fabric.
“A blindfold,” Hunter whispered to himself as Troy lifted the weight of Lacey’s hair, securing the cloth snugly over her eyes.
“Now say the words, girl.”
“Please take me, Master.” Lacey’s head turned, her eyes blindly searching for him. “Please… take me, Sir.”
Hunter watched as the lips of Lacey’s cunt filled, and darkened, her clit growing more prominent as the heated words took effect. He touched her soft pussy, his fingertips sliding through the moisture gathering at her sex. Her hips moved slowly, as much as the cruel strap holding her fast would allow.
Troy smiled. “You should have her first, Hunt.”
As much as he wanted to plunge deep within her wet heat… he knew it wasn’t right. Not yet.
“No.” Hunter laid a hand upon the smooth curve of her bottom, caressing her. “I’m her Sir, yes… but she needs her Master now.”
Troy didn’t argue, his gaze blazing as he strode around to the foot of the bed, standing directly behind his wife as he stripped his shorts off, freeing his cock. For a moment, he simply stared at her proferred as, his fist stroking up and down the shaft.
Hunter freed his own painful erection, the weight of if hot in his palm as he moved to Troy’s right, savoring the fact that they’d both take her anonymously, her senses concentrated in sound, and touch, helpless beneath them as they fucked her.
It fit so right, both her personality and her needs, but in a larger sense too. It fit this life they were building together.
Troy’s early solemn words were but a memory then as he stepped close, laying the length of his cock across her bottomcheek as his fingers plumbed her now dripping depths.
“Christ, she’s ready.” Troy rumbled. He grasped her hips in a tight grip to Lacey’s sharp intake of breath. “Open for me, girl. Open that pussy.”
Her back hollowed still further, as Troy presented the heavy, swollen head of his cock to her sex, plunging forward in a single lunge, Lacey’s loud groan making Hunter smile to himself. Gone was the gentle Troy now, as he took up hard, even brutal thrusts, shaking the bed as he pounded into Lacey harder and harder. In moments, she was moaning loudly with each thrust into her soaked pussy, Troy practically growling as he thundered into her, slapping her ass now and again, making Lacey cry out.
He threw his head back, pressing close, his hips jerking once, twice, a third time as he emptied into her, staking his claim of dominion over Lacey’s body once more.
Stepping back, Troy’s breath was coming hard and fast as he wiped his cock on her broad bottom, still stroking it slowly as he looked back at Hunter.
“It’s time.”
It didn’t matter that he was following his friend, that the claim had already been staked, that surrender had already been accepted. None of this was complete — they all knew it — without this, without their shared affirmation of her ownership by not one, but two men. Her men.
He stepped between her legs, Troy’s lips quirking as he looked down upon her face. “She needs it hard, Hunt. Don’t let her down.”
He stormed forward, the head of his cock butting against the firm mouth of her womb, Lacey’s sex clamping upon him hard. She was flooded with both hers and Troy’s fluids, but Hunter no longer cared as he fondled her buttocks, smoothing palms over the broad leather strap clamping her down to the bed, then using it to lunge into her hard, over and over again, drawing lost cries from their woman with each deep thrust.
Troy slid onto the bed, kneeling up within the span of her arms and taking hold of her hair. Cranking her head up and back, he made her lick the still wet shaft, his cock already beginning to stiffen again.
It was over within minutes, Hunter’s big hand cracking down across her flesh, adding to the red splotches Troy’s spanks had left upon her soft, white buttocks. Spraying his essence deep within her pussy, he stumbled back from her, his cock slipping out with a loud, obscene suction sound. Pearly semen immediately leaked from between the plump, reddened lips of her cunt as he cleaned himself up, Troy finally letting go of her hair, and tucking his erection back in his shorts.
They untied her, laying back upon the bed, their Lacey between them, their combined seed wet upon her pale inner thighs. They took turns bringing her to screaming orgasms with their fingers, playing with her until she pleaded with them to relent. Hunter kissed her again, loving the way the blindfold reduced her to those plump, swollen lips, the white teeth worrying them as she struggled with her own overwhelming arousal.
Eventually, they slept, both men taking her more than once in the night whenever the urge struck them.
In the small, quiet hours of the early morning, Troy soun
d asleep on the opposite side, Lacey rested her cheek on Hunter’s chest, her heavy breast pillowed against his side. His fingers stroked through the soft, lush locks of her hair as he watched her slow breathing. Though she was lost to exhausted slumber, Hunter still spoke the words aloud, his quiet voice trembling with the power of what he felt, with the knowledge that he’d found something he’d do anything for, something — and someone — he’d die for.
“I love you, Lacey Warren. I love you so much.” He kissed the top of her head, to her sleepy murmuring. “You’ve made your Sir a very happy man.”
Chapter 13
“You want me to what?”
“I think you heard me the first time. Take off your clothes.”
Falon kept looking from the suddenly implacable, stern cop to the swinging chains hanging from the ceiling rafter, the manacles at the ends like the fanged maws of vipers, waiting for her to make one false move.
“W-why?”
Ford took a step toward her. “Take off your clothes. That’s another rule: you no longer get to ask that question unless I give you leave.”
She backed up, rubbing her wrists. The basement was almost entirely bare save for a wooden chair, a tall, varnished wardrobe, a contraption that looked like some sort of gymnastic apparatus, and, in the far, dim corner, underneath the stairs, she could just make out what looked to be… bars. A huge floor to ceiling mirror dominated one wall, and an elaborate set of track lighting was arranged along the ceiling, most of the lights appearing to point toward the pendent chains. Various polished hooks, and rings were bolted at numerous points among the rafters. Her unerring eye didn’t fail to pick up on the rings embedded in the concrete at several points around the perimeter of the gymnastic apparatus.
This had the sort of look of a basement rec room, but she knew better than that.
A space like this was used for something entirely different.
Or maybe he thinks tormenting you is recreation, Falon?
“Ford, please…” Her mouth had gone dry, and she licked her lips.
He sighed. “You agreed to the deal, did you not? Signed the document?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“No, that’s it, Ms. Moore. For as long as I have you as ward, you will do what I tell you — or there will be consequences.” His head tilted, his eyes like twin points of obsidian. “Now, I’m waiting.”
Her buttocks twitched under her pants at the veiled threat. She had no doubt now that he’d follow it up with action.
The worst part was that the memory of her spanking in that jail cell wasn’t totally horrible.
Not even close.
“Okay, look… fine, I’ll do it.” She began to unbutton her shirt, not sure what else she could do. She pointed at the chair behind him. “Could I have that?”
“No. You’ll do it where you stand.”
“Ford!”
“I remember your first rule, but you seem to keep forgetting it.” He sighed, giving her an exaggerated shake of his head. “We have a lot of work to do.”
“I’m sorry… Sir. But — you already searched me.”
“You stripping now has nothing to do with me searching you, and everything to do with you doing as you’re told.” He took another step toward her, his boots squeaking against the gray painted concrete floor. “Now, if I have to ask you again, you’re getting another spanking — before the punishment you’ve already got coming.”
Punishment? Oh, dear God.
He watched her in silence as she shucked off her shirt, as she let out a tiny whimper with the loss of her pants. Then she stood before him in her panties and bra once more. It was surreal that this wasn’t the first time this had happened that day.
But this was far worse, because now she knew what he was capable of.
And what excites you.
She pushed that thought deep down once more, knowing that the mere entertaining of that idea was more dangerous to her than almost anything else. The last thing she needed to be doing was thinking about her twisted fantasies at a time like this.
Why not, Falon? It’s not like you’re going to have any choice in the matter. What’s the point in denying this part of you?
Because they were just fantasies, thoughts — nothing more.
“I think you know you’re not done, Ms. Moore.”
Shit.
Knowing further delay was likely to get her ass blistered, she undid the bra, letting it fall, then hooked her thumbs in her panties.
“Stop right there.”
She shut her eyes tight, her cheeks burning bright.
“Straighten up, and clasp your hands behind your back.”
Meeting his gaze, she hoped to see mercy in his eyes, finding only grim determination, and not an insignificant amount of lust.
Slowly, she complied, squeezing her fist in her hand, a sheen of sweat already developing at the small of her back.
The position made her feel even more vulnerable, her naked breasts utterly unprotected. She dropped her eyes, unable to bear looking at him in her shame.
“Look at me, Ms. Moore.”
Though it was the last thing on Earth she wanted to do, she complied, locking her gaze with his. His smile was as fleeting as a summer shower, but it had been there. Then his eyes dropped to her chest, and he took his time drinking in her naked body, each second feeling like an hour.
“One thing you’re going to have to get used to, is displaying those tits of yours. They’re beautiful, so you shouldn’t be ashamed to show them. But shame or not, you will do as you’re told.” He pointed at her, his jaw tightening again. “You’d better get used to it, because once you drop those cute little panties, it’s going to be a while before you’re allowed clothes again. And that’s only if you earn it.”
“What?” Her voice was a pained squeak, as if her throat threatened to close. “Earn it?”
He couldn’t… no, it wasn’t possible.
“Yes, we’re starting over with you, Ms. Moore. Since you’ve broken my trust, since you’ve lied, since you’ve proven you don’t deserve to be treated as an equal — you won’t be. We’re starting over — with the basics first.” Another step brought him still closer, now almost with arm’s reach, the air pressure changing against her bare skin. “But before all of that, you’re going to take off your panties.”
Falon tried to swallow down both her fear, and a rising, treasonous fascination she couldn’t put her finger on. It was as if part of her was detached, watching her ordeal as if it were a movie. A sick, twisted, lurid movie.
Looking down at the floor, she grasped the skimpy material of her panties, but Ford’s grunt stopped her again.
“What?” she asked looking up at him, fearing she’d done something wrong once again.
“This is another rule. When you are disrobing in front of me, you will turn your bottom toward me before doing do.”
Oh my God.
“And you will always bend at the waist when doing so. Any deviation from this, will result in consequences for you.”
“Are you serious?” She winced at the almost automatic retort, knowing her mouth was likely to get her in even more hot water.
Ford didn’t say anything for a long moment, and she looked away again, not wanting him to see her deepening blush.
“Take them down,” he finally said. “I suppose we’ll need to add that little crack to your tally.”
Turning as slowly as she dared, Falon drew the skimpy undies down her legs, feeling as if her ass had a giant bullseye on it, imagining Ford’s gaze taking in every inch of her backside as it was revealed. She stepped out of them, hating the way they caught on her shoes.
“Everything now, even your socks.”
She had to drop to a knee to remove her shoes and socks. Fortunately, Ford didn’t voice an objection.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your head. Lace those fingers tight, because if your hands move, you’ll regret it.”
Her shame threaten
ed to pull her completely under as she rose and faced him, every sense heightened as adrenaline pumped through her veins, even the subtle jiggle of her buttocks as she moved making her mortification still worse. She knew he could see it all, took in every aspect of her humiliation.
And from the look in his eyes, he enjoyed every second of it.
So why doesn’t that piss you off, Falon?
The answer that sprung immediately to mind was both frustrating and illuminating.
Because it’s expected — and normal — that he’d enjoy it.
He strolled around her then, stopping now and again, presumably to get a better look. Lacey shut her eyes tight, willing away the mortification, and the knowledge that he could see the way her nipples had drawn achingly tight, thankful he couldn’t know the horribly confusing surge of heat she felt at her core.
Stopping behind her, he tapped her shoulder. “I want you to bend over — at the waist, like you’ve been told. Keep those hands behind your head.”
“Please—”
“That’s enough out of you, for now. Be quiet and do as you’re told.”
A tiny whine escaping her lips, she went over, thankful for the yoga she’d attended sporadically earlier in the year. Still, the position was hard, her hamstrings tight, her legs immediately trembling. Her breasts hung below her like ripe fruit, her hair not quite long enough to hide them.
Ford’s boots squeaked on the floor once more, and then she realized he’d dropped to one knee behind her.
The first touch at the back of her thigh made her freeze. Of course, he’d touched her when he’d spanked her, but this was an entirely different proposition.
Yes, that was before you agreed to be his little plaything, idiot.
“Open your legs.”
She stayed still, hoping she’d imagined those mortifying words.
A burst of heat exploded across the back of one, then the other, thigh, and she cried out, the slap of his hand echoing in the closed space.
“Open them.”
Miserably, she did it, hating the way it made… everything, jiggle back there. She instantly lamented every single spin class she’d flaked out of during the year.