Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3)

by Trent Evans

  “I fucking love them.” He was up in a flash, standing right in front of her, his fingers pulling, twisting her nipples. “They’re… so dark.”

  Normally, her nipples were a light coral color. She liked the color of them. One of the few parts of her body she was really, truly happy with. Then this.

  “OB told me to expect it.” She shrugged as much as her position allowed. “I just wasn’t expecting it to happen this early — or this fast.”

  “Makes me wish I’d invested in some clamps,” he murmured, catching her eye. “Some nice tight ones.”

  Kirsten swallowed. As sensitive as her nipples were, the mere thought of nipple clamps terrified her — and made her pussy clench.

  Her traitorous pussy.

  Keihl pinched both nipples tightly, and she arched her back, hissing.

  “Sensitive?”

  She couldn’t tell if it was sympathy or glee she saw in his eyes.

  “Off the charts.”

  “More than normal?” He grinned at her, pinching them again, but much more gently this time. “There’s the good kind of sensitive and the bad kind. Which is it?”

  She remembered the very first time he’d sucked her nipples, his teeth grazing them. It was so fucking hot in that car, but they couldn’t wait to get home to get their hands on one another. He’d pulled over, ripping her shirt up, halfway over her face, and attacked her breasts, squeezing them until she’d moaned. He hadn’t known then what a blessing — and a curse — her nipples were. As she’d screamed out her climax inside that sweltering Honda, he’d gotten his first lesson. She still remembered the almost predatory gleam in his eyes as he leaned close, asking her if she’d just come. She’d made the mistake of admitting she had, his chuckle still echoing in her ears to this day, as he’d bent to his task once more, drawing another hard nipple into his mouth.

  “Kirsten.” He twisted her nipples, bringing her back to the present, the flash of pain making her wince. “I asked you a question. Good or bad?”

  “Little of both, I guess.” She moaned as he stooped, his broad, wet tongue laving one of her hard, deep brown nipples. “Oh God, Keihl!”

  “I wish I could’ve been here,” he said, his lips moist, her wet nipples hard as stone now. “I should’ve been here.”

  “I know.”

  She wasn’t about to let him off the hook. He needed to know she wasn’t kidding when she told him she needed him here.

  “That’s what I was thinking about too.” He pressed a gentle kiss to each of her nipples then sauntered back to the couch. He sat down, spreading his legs again, opening his fly all the way, and pulling out his cock. She bit her lip as she watched him stroke the long shaft up and down, bringing it to full, veined glory, the muscles of his forearm flexing as he fisted himself.

  He caught her gaze, and she blushed, knowing he’d seen her watching him stroke himself. “I liked your eyes up where they were, bad girl.”

  She lifted her eyes with a reluctance that was almost painful. She could watch him stroke that cock of his forever, and never get tired of it. Never.

  “I’ve got a plan. A way to make sure I don’t miss these things. The big things and the little things. I want to see all of it.”

  “I… don’t understand. Does that mean you’re done traveling?”

  Kirsten had this crazy image of Keihl working from home, his pregnant wife servicing him whenever, and however, he wished.

  Great, Kirsten. How far removed is your perversion from the male fantasy of his submissive woman confined to the house, barefoot and pregnant?

  The real answer to that was something she wasn’t sure how to express, something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Not even to herself.

  “Look at me, girl. But I want your eyes on me, not on my cock.”

  She met his gaze, wishing her peripheral vision would pick out more than the impression of the slow movement of his fist.

  “Good girl.” He gave her a quick pleased curve of his lips, then his gaze sobered. “We’re going to keep… records.”

  What?

  “And we’re going to take measurements.”

  Oh my God…

  “I’m not missing one thing. Not one fucking thing. Do you understand me?” His jaw clenched, his eyes glinting, the heat there unmistakable.

  “What are you… measuring? What records?”

  Part of her knew already, but the prospect of it made her almost panicky with it, her lust and her dread intertwining now, the one indistinguishable from the other.

  Keihl stood, his fist still languidly stroking that cock. He circled her, unhurried, her gaze following him.

  “Eyes front,” he said, with a crisp slap to her ass, her eyes snapping back to the wall over the couch. He walked behind her, continuing.

  “I want every change in your body recorded. This is a once in a lifetime thing, Kirsten, and I’ll be damned if I miss any of it again.” He stepped close to her, the broad head of his cock stroking across the curves of her buttocks, leaving wetness on her skin. “Is that a problem for you?”

  “I… I don’t know. What are you going to do?” His growl was low, but pointed, and she swallowed hard. “Sir.”

  “Whatever I want, of course.” His breath was warm against her ear, his lips brushing her hand still clasped with the other one behind her head.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She knew she could back out. If it was… weird, she could call a halt to it. But there was something she feared much more than this becoming weird. She feared how much she might like it, feared that he’d mined yet another dark vein of perversion within her. How deep did all of this go? This was about more than them together. This was about new desires, new needs she’d been discovering seemingly daily. And it was all because of him, her husband, a sort of twisted shepherd, leading her by the hand into this hidden land of her deepest fantasies.

  “Good.” He stood before her again, his fist stroking his cock faster now, his eyes burning into hers. “First, I want you upstairs. In my office.”

  * * *

  “Stand at attention right there.” His finger pointed to a spot directly in front of his desk. “Eyes down.”

  Her heart was in her throat as she complied, not knowing how to process this new side to him, all the while her pussy was already almost dripping. The tone of his voice alone seemed to shake something loose inside her, and even as her body trembled, her desire bloomed within her with stunning force. How many times had she dreamt of this very scenario? Called to the “study” to account for something, anything, that might get her disciplined. Or fucked. Preferably both.

  Behind the broad, black plane of the desktop, along the back wall, was a huge inset with shelves and cabinets that soared almost to the ceiling. The top ones were far too high for her to even reach, but they were just right for Keihl. Perhaps he’d planned it that way when he’d had them put in. At the center of the inset was a mirror, a small bar with a tray of cut glasses below it, the liquor tastefully tucked away in one of the cabinets. She’d always found it almost a throwback to another era, something incongruous with the rest of the modern house. But it was his. It was him — just like the room as a whole — and she found she liked it that way.

  Still, to be called in here felt akin to being called into the lion’s den — though here she didn’t expect to be eaten … quite.

  The first thing he’d pulled from one of the cabinets was a measuring tape, the neat yellow coil laid upon his desk. A black digital camera followed, then he reached up to one of the topmost shelves within the cabinet, retrieving a brown leather ledger, his big hand sweeping over the cover, almost a caress, his finger tracing the white thread embroidered into the leather. He set it down on the table beside the tape, giving her a little smile before turning back to the cabinet.

  She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry, as she read the lettering on the ledger’s cover:

  Changes

  What…?

  For a moment she was confused
— and then it hit her, what that word meant. Her mind seemed to blank, seize up, not quite able to — or not willing to — absorb the implications of those seven letters. He wasn’t done either.

  He flicked a switch on the side of one of the cabinets, warm light from recessed fixtures above the bar and his desk, splashing down across his broad shoulders, rendering his dark hair into almost black, the cut glasses on the tray sparkling.

  Next, he set some sort of small scale down on the desk, the red indicator arm stark against the white, circular dial. It was topped with a stainless steel tray that gleamed in the light. They sure as hell weren’t measuring food, so what in God’s name was that for?

  “Keihl, what are you… ?” She wasn’t sure if it was permitted to lift her gaze, so she stared at the tabletop as she said it, her eyes drawn inexorably to that scale.

  “I meant it when I said I was recording all of it.” His finger tapped that shiny tray atop the scale, the indicator shivering. “I’m not missing any of it. You’re mine, Kirsten, so you’d better get used to it. This is only the beginning.”

  He walked back around to the front of desk, taking his time, his fingers drumming along the dark wood of the desktop. Then he leaned against it, the pleasing bulge of his genitals directly in her line of sight. “Look at me, girl.”

  His arms were crossed, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up his forearms, exposing the dark hair, the bulging muscle. The light from the recessed fixtures of the inset played brightness and shadow over the contours of his face, his eyes glittering from the darkness under his strong brow.

  “I-I don’t understand.”

  “We’re going to take measurements today.” He turned, retrieving the ledger, his fingers opening it and flipping through the pages. “Seemed a little odd at the time. I didn’t even know if I’d ever use it — but I had it made anyway.” He grinned up at her. “I had to do it. One of my evil little fantasies I didn’t even know I had — until you got pregnant.”

  Oh my, you beautiful, terrifying man.

  “Um, measurements?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, knowing she was playing with fire. “I already know them. Thanks.”

  He held up the ledger, tapping a finger on the lettering. “Do you see what that says? Each little crack like that from that smart mouth of yours is going to get you an entry into this. I’ll be keeping track of a lot more than just the changes I see in your body.” He set it down on the desk, folding his hands across his thighs. “And though you may not pay the piper — fully — while you’re pregnant. You will pay it in full, afterward.”

  Her eyes slid over that book, the leather bound pages now positively dripping with menace.

  “Eyes on me, girl.”

  She snapped her gaze back to him. “Sorry, Sir.”

  “That’s better. I’ll let that first one go, because maybe you didn’t understand, weren’t ready. But any more? It’ll cost you, my dear. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.” He looked to the side, his brow furrowing. Then he held up a hand. “Shit, forgot something. Wait right where you are.”

  Then he was gone, out the door and down the stairs, the wood floorboard at the landing creaking as it always had.

  Calm, Kirsten. Be calm. This is what you wanted. Have the courage to face it — and enjoy it.

  But this? Was he really going to do this? She glanced at that scale again, still not certain what part that would play, her subconscious whispering something considerably more certain, the truth of it sending a shiver of lust — and dread — down her spine.

  She could just make out the vague noise of the door out to the garage slamming shut, then the creak of the landing as he made his way back up the stairs.

  “Glad I remembered,” he murmured, trailing a finger along the line of her jaw as he set the small tool down on the desk. It was gray polished metal, shaped roughly like a capital letter F, with a shiny, round knob on one end.

  “What is … that?” Her voice was a choked whisper, her mind already suspecting the answer.

  “Calipers, my dear. Certain measurements are going to take more … precision.”

  Oh fuck.

  “Now, before we get to that. I want to see if you can follow directions.”

  She shivered. “Y-Yes, Sir.”

  “Now.” His voice had gone rough, almost gravelly. “Get those hands behind your head.”

  Though she knew he loved it, the darker color of her nipples still made her self-conscious. She knew it was absurd, considering she’d been sending half naked photos of herself to him almost every day. Though she knew it had to have happened over the course of a few days at the least, it still seemed to her like it has happened overnight.

  His gaze dropped to her breasts, her cheeks heating at the avid glint in his eyes.

  She still couldn’t help but worry that it was a turn-off to him, even though she knew it was quite the opposite. The urge to cover her breasts with her hands was overpowering, and she almost succumbed to it, her hands moving down, seemingly by themselves.

  “Hands behind your head,” he barked, giving her breast a sharp slap, sending it bounding into its twin.

  “Keihl, wait—”

  “Do it, Kirsten.” His gaze cooled even further. “It wasn’t a request, girl.”

  Reluctantly, she complied. She knew she should have just been honest about the embarrassment she still harbored about it. It was stupid, but it was hard to be this open, this vulnerable. Along with everything else that was happening, all these physical and emotional changes, he was making her be so open to him, to not hide anything. It wasn’t as if she really wanted to hide anything either — being vulnerable to him, this special intimacy with him, held an allure to her she couldn’t even explain. All she knew was that laying everything bare to him was a huge turn-on, even as it was a huge trial. And paradoxically, that it was such a huge trial, made it even more of a turn-on.

  Great, your pussy drips over embarrassment now too?

  Why would embarrassment turn her on? It was undeniable that it did — her wet pussy, and aching hard nipples were but two undeniable proofs of the truth of it. But as she stood there, blatantly exposing her breasts to her husband for his inspection and pleasure, she still wondered why it was so.

  Keihl stared at her breasts intently, his gaze flicking up to hers then back down again.

  “I still can’t take my eyes off them.” He gave her a sharp look. “Does that bother you when I make you display those breasts?”

  “No, Sir.” She licked her lips. “It’s just… hard to do it. I-I still can’t believe how fast they changed.” She breathed in, her heart beating fast now. “When they changed, I just assumed — worried — that you… would rather see other things. Of mine.”

  His dark eyebrow raised. “Oh, they’re yours?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry… I meant you’d rather see other parts of me.”

  “Oh, you mean that swollen pussy?” His gaze dropped lower.

  The last few days, he’d seemed obsessed — more than normal — with her genitals, demanding pictures, even close-ups, of the lips of her pussy. That they were perpetually engorged, and darker colored, fascinated him. More than once, he’d texted her from the middle of a meeting, telling her he wanted another picture — immediately — and that it needed to be closer, or her lips needed to be spread wide, or — particularly mortifying — the hood needed to be pulled back to expose the clit. She’d complied every time, of course, so turned on when she’d sent him the close-up of her deep red, swollen clit that she’d had to take matters into her own hands, swirling fingertips over that incredibly sensitive bud until she’d shrieked into her own pillow, afraid her piercing cries would be overheard by her neighbors.

  It was during that period that her nipples had dramatically darkened from the normal coral color to a dark brown. She’d remembered the OB mentioning it, and how some women never really saw a marked change in the color. Well, she wasn’t so lucky — or w
as she?

  Watching Keihl’s eyes, the lust in his gaze plain to see, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I — I wasn’t sure”—she swallowed down a lump, a blush heating her face—”I still worry… that wouldn’t like them.”

  His eyes warmed. “Kirsten. I love everything about you. Everything. Do you understand me?”

  “I don’t know… “

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Tell me. Don’t evade the question.”

  Lawyers.

  “I mean, some things about what’s happening, about what might happen soon. I’m not sure you’ll like them. They might, I don’t know… bother you.”

  How about disgust him?

  Joely’s words still rang in her ears. He wouldn’t even touch her. God, she didn’t know if she’d be able to take that kind of rejection, strong, modern woman or not. The fact was, she needed him — and she needed him to want her, to desire her. Maybe now, more than ever.

  He stood, making sure his gaze stayed locked with hers as he gently caressed both of her breasts, the thumbs working back and forth over nipples that tingled each time he stroked them. For every swipe across her nipples, a surge of electricity surged down to her clit, making her bite her own lip to keep from moaning.

  “I love them,” he murmured, dropping his intent gaze back down to her exposed breasts, seeming to almost be talking to himself. “Beautiful. So beautiful.”

  Thank God.

  His gaze grew cool. “You should’ve told me though as soon as it happened.”

  “Keihl, I did what you told me to do.” She felt the blush flare across her cheeks. “I sent the pictures you ordered.”

  “We’ll address this later,” he said, giving her a wink that made her want to kiss him — and slap him.

  He reached behind him, retrieving the tape, the end swinging from his fist. “Now, let’s get started shall we?”

  For the next few minutes, he worked, seemingly obsessed with the task, ordering her this way and that, not even using words. A wave of his finger had her bending at the waist, baring her naked sex to his gaze. The tape measured her bust, her hips— in several spots — and her waist.