Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3)

by Trent Evans

  It was like standing still for a perverted tailor.

  Her thighs were next, her breath hitching as his fingertips stroked the crease between her pussy and her thigh. He measured the circumference of each of her breasts then, her face flaming hot as he turned and noted each number in the journal, only acknowledging her with a growled order to keep her hands laced behind her head.

  Finally, after seemingly every part of her had been measured and catalogued, he set the tape back down on the desk. He touched the scale, then met her gaze, his lips pursed. He tapped his mouth with a finger and sprang off the desk, walking back around. He wheeled the office chair from behind his desk, the black leather of the seat back gleaming under the warm light.

  This didn’t look good.

  “Now, Kirsten, sit that big bottom of yours in this chair, and leave your hands where they are.”

  * * *

  “Such a pretty blush you have,” he said, flashing her a wolfen grin.

  She stood at attention once more as he wheeled the chair back to its spot behind that black desk. Returning to her, he tapped her elbow.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Her gaze was still fixated on that scale, sitting on the desktop, so innocuous — except in the hands of her husband.

  “Remember, keep those hands laced behind your head and leave them there until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice was a mere squeak, her mind still reeling, trying to process what he’d just done to her five minutes before.

  No sooner had he ensconced her in the chair, then he’d cranked one of the levers below the seat, raising her up, so high her feet barely touched the polished wood floor. Then he’d ordered her to clasp her arms behind her back. Her face burned white hot then as, with a fistful of her hair, he’d bent her over that scale, the shocking cold of that stainless steel plate pressed to the underside of first one breast, then the other. He’d moved her this way and that, murmuring to himself as he worked, lifting a breast several times, and dropping it on the scale as if it were meat to be sold. Then, satisfied he’d gotten the measurements he’d wanted, he marked them down in her journal of shame.

  He weighed your fucking breasts, Kirsten.

  Her ordeal was far from over, however.

  “Now, before we continue, I want you to know something.” He leaned back against the desk once more, a long thigh laid along its edge, his foot swinging slowly back and forth, his eyes bright. “This will be part of your routine from now on — until the day you give birth to my child. Maybe longer.”

  What?

  She wasn’t entirely sure what that might mean, but the pictures her imagination conjured up had her swallowing hard, her mouth suddenly dry.

  “We’ll start with a couple times a week, but I have a feeling it will be most days.”

  Oh God…

  He pointed at the table behind her, his gaze locked with hers. “Each time you’re called in here for your measurements, you’ll stand here at attention, your hands laced together just like they are now, until I tell you otherwise. Got it so far?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.” His gaze dropped to her proffered breasts once more before looking up again. “You’ll take off everything here. Then, because I want to watch that gorgeous ass of yours as you walk, you’ll take each article of clothing separately back to that table, fold it neatly, and come right back to this spot.”

  His finger jabbed toward the floor.

  “You won’t rush, but you won’t dawdle either. I’ll watch you the whole time to make sure you’re following my directions. Any failure to do so, and I’ll just mark it into your book here. Clear?”

  She closed her eyes a moment. “Yes, Sir.”

  Even though this was her husband, a man she adored, lusted after, loved with all her heart, the prospect of doing this over and over filled her with a confusing mixture of dread and anticipation. Apparently, she’d been a fool to worry he wouldn’t pay her any attention as she grew heavy with their child.

  Careful what you wish for, idiot.

  “After you’re naked, as you should be, and standing at attention once more, then it’s time to record it.” He plucked the camera from the desktop.

  For the first time, the prospect of him taking a picture of her as she stood there showing off her tits, made her almost run. It shouldn’t turn her on — the prospect of him objectifying her like this, reducing her to a body for his pleasure.

  It shouldn’t — but apparently doing things, feeling things she shouldn’t had become a pattern lately.

  The flash dazzled her, the shape of the desk top flickering a ghostly red and green in her vision.

  “Turn.”

  “Turn? I don’t…”

  “Just turn, girl.” He gave her a slow twirl of his finger. “There. Stop.”

  He snapped another photo, this time of her profile. Shame bloomed bright at the image she knew he saw, the jut of her breasts emphasized by the position.

  “Other side now.”

  She obeyed slowly, wincing at the way her breasts swayed as she turned.

  “Good. Elbows back, tits out. Stand proud.”

  The hot blush flooded up her face, all the way to the roots of her hair. She closed her eyes before the flash came again.

  Fingers teased her hard nipples and she drew in a sharp breath. “Back facing me now. Come on, girl.”

  It was actually easier, if only for a moment, not to feel his gaze upon her so directly. Instead, she felt it upon her ass. His murmur was pure pleasure as the flash came again.

  “Hands on your knees and bend over at the waist. Body parallel to the floor.”

  “Keihl, what are you—”

  “Do it — or it’s a mark in your book.”

  Sighing, she complied, finding herself staring at the polished floorboards, the heavy weight of her breasts swinging below her. His hand smoothed over the curve of her hip, and she cried out as it came down hard on her bottom, the sting flaring hot.

  “God, I love this fucking ass. I’d keep you like this all day long, if I could.”

  There were several flashes then, and she almost whimpered, feeling the clench of her pussy, the let-down of juices between the labia threatening to drip down her thighs. She’d never in her wildest dreams have said she was someone who’d be turned on by this treatment of her. It was as if he’d reduced her down to a thing, a possession to be admired, enjoyed. Intellectually, she should have objected. Shouldn’t she? Wrong or right didn’t seem to factor into the equation anymore, rather it was her body’s reaction to seemingly everything he did to her. Her self-image, her perception of who she was as a woman, appeared to be going through just as many changes as her body was.

  Or maybe you’re just rationalizing?

  His keen eye was unerring, picking up on her arousal, her confusion. Hard fingers splayed the sensitive lips of her pussy, and she shuddered, the digits plunging deep, pumping once, twice, the wet sound of her juices mortifying. He kept at her until she was panting, her hips swaying.

  “Someone appears to like showing off the goods, hmm?” He dropped to one knee next to her, pushing her hair aside to kiss and nibble her ear. “It doesn’t matter what you say — your body tells the truth, girl. I’d never have guessed exhibitionism was something you … responded to.”

  “Please…”

  “Please?” He stood again, the bulge of his crotch just inches from her face, his hands stroking her back. “Are you begging me to stop? Or to never stop?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  He patted her back softly. “That’s just the way I like it.”

  Keihl took more pictures of her then, directing her to one position, then another. Her cheeks burned bright as she knelt, the ends of her hair brushing against the upper swells of breasts she held up to him, offered by her own hands. His foot tapped against the inside of her knee, and she spread her legs wide, still holding up her breasts, the flash coming again. He had her
stand against one wall, her back against the cold painted surface, and told her to reach up as far as she could, urging her up onto her toes. He murmured his delight as he took another picture. Finally, he nodded toward his desk.

  “Sit there, ass at the edge.”

  He watched her as she complied, her gasp as her warm buttocks pressed to the cold surface making him smile.

  “Feet up, on the edge. Keep your legs open.”

  “I… can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  The thought had her closing her eyes tight, even as she knew her pussy was likely glistening with her arousal. It was … too much. There was nowhere to hide — he’d see it all. Married or not, the vulnerability she felt was overpowering.

  Isn’t that what you wanted, slut?

  It was what she wanted — but to do that? The thought of it had her belly quivering, the mortification washing through her with a power that paralyzed her.

  He laid a warm palm on her thigh, easing it aside. “You can do this. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Christ, you’re so beautiful like this.”

  Then he had her where he wanted her, his fierce gaze dropping to her splayed sex. Her breath came in shaky pants as he looked at her. She wondered if she’d actually drip onto his desk, her sex was so wet.

  “You’re soaked — again. Yes, someone definitely likes displaying her wares, I think. I’d have never guessed this about you, girl.” She dropped her head at his low chuckle. “Good to know.”

  Her blush flared even hotter at the terrible, undeniable truth of it.

  Keihl’s hand smoothed over her belly, the curve of it just barely visible now. She gripped his wrist with a sigh, giving him a bashful smile.

  “Feels good?” He let her hold his hand against her.

  “God, yes. I — I don’t know why. It just does.”

  He leaned close, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “Don’t fight it then.”

  She wrapped a hand around the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and held him to her, kissing him hard, her tightly leashed energy finally tearing loose, pouring into him. Her tongue probed deep, swirling, dancing with his, and she hoped he felt a tiny fraction of the love she felt for him at that moment, the feeling so strong, she felt she might explode with it.

  She pulled back, meeting his heated gaze. “Touch me. Please, Sir. Please touch me.”

  It was as if her words flipped a switch within him. With a roar he rushed forward, taking her head in his hands, his lips crushing hers, a growl sounding from deep in his chest. He bore her down to the desktop, his weight pressed to her, though carefully avoiding laying atop her belly.

  Her hands reached down, fumbling with his belt, frantically trying to free that hard cock she wanted to feel within her so badly. He groaned into her mouth as her hand closed around the burning shaft, guiding him home. She cried out as he thrust into her, seating himself fully in one hard stroke. His hand fisted in her hair, and she moaned as he pulled her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat to his hot mouth, the nip of teeth, his lips sucking upon the flesh, soothing the bite marks he left there. His cock stroked within her, deep, so deep she almost cried out it felt so good.

  “Keihl… missed this,” she said, hissing as another bite flared heat at her throat, making her clamp down upon his cock yet again.

  “Mine,” he growled against her skin, his hips slapping against hers now, her nails digging into his muscled buttocks. “Always mine, Kirsten.” He pushed himself up, so that he could look down upon her, his cock moving within her at a leisurely, but relentless pace. “I can’t wait to see you. Swollen with my child. Watch you waddle, those tits of yours heavy with milk.” He kissed her again, her fingers stroking through his hair. “Mine. All mine.”

  “Yes, oh God yes, Keihl!” She threw her head back, eyes squeezed tight as the rasp of his pubic bone against her clit threatened to tip her over the edge. “Yours… all of it. All of me… yours.”

  “Don’t ever forget it,” he murmured.

  He ground against her one last time, and she went over, her lost scream sounding in her ears, her vision blanking in an explosion of white, the pleasure drowning out all awareness.

  When she came back to earth, Keihl’s thick cock still stretched her, still plundered her shuddering, clenching pussy. Her breath rasped from her lungs as she plead with him, only sounds, speech beyond her now, urging him to go faster, to take her, to take all of it. Her body shook then as he thrust harder, her legs curling around his ass, never letting him go. His teeth sank into her throat again, and she arched under him, groaning with the pain, but wanting even more, the line between pain and pleasure obliterated now, her lust all-consuming now.

  “Coming,” he groaned, his hips slamming into her over and over, the heat of his release a hot flood within her that made her sigh, his seed filling her to overflowing. His hot breath came fast and hard against her throat, his soft lips pressing little kisses under her ear, his strong hand stroking the weight of her hair. He murmured little satisfied sounds, almost a vibration of pleasure from deep in his chest. Slowly, his thrusts subsided, her cunt squeezing him all the while, coaxing every last drop of his essence into her. She wanted all of him, wanted to take all that he offered, gratefully, submissively, lovingly.

  This was where she knew Keihl belonged, inside the loving arms, the welcoming pussy, of his wife, his woman, his love.

  Chapter Twenty

  It had been a long, frustrating day at the office. Asshole clients, a never-ending mountain of work, and a slave-driving boss who expected — as usual — for her to have all the answers. She did, of course, but it got old fast when her coworkers never seemed to get the tough questions, the fiendishly difficult accounts, or the endless amounts of tedious market research.

  She’d received the e-mail from her husband that morning as soon as she’d sat down at her desk. That only made things worse.

  When you get home from work, you’re to take a bath immediately. Take your time, but NO masturbating. After the bath, I want you in your new robe only. No underwear. No make-up. Nothing but you.

  I’ll be home a little late — and I want you ready for me when I get there.

  K

  Apparently, he’d gotten her a gift. A robe though?

  Of course, she’d been thinking about the e-mail all day, and just what Keihl had up his sleeve. She knew that was his entire intent. She hoped it involved a hot, sore, bottom, a well-pounded pussy, and snuggling before nodding off to sleep.

  He liked to keep her thinking about him, focused on him, on pleasing him. These texts, or e-mails, or notes were just one way he’d started doing it — and she loved it. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d asked for. It didn’t make things any easier though — especially the no masturbation dictate. That was a new one, and her devilishly clever husband had to have known what that would do to her. As soon as she’d read it, she’d had the insane urge to find a quiet stall in one of the bathrooms and plunge her fingers into her pussy.

  This shit is sooo not fair.

  She looked up at the knock on her open door. Kevin, one of the sales executives she worked with, leaned a shoulder against the jamb, his well-tailored dress shirt snug on his slender frame. He may have had the charming arrogance of a twenty-something, but his body didn’t yet have the solid presence and power of a mature man. He wasn’t near the muscled hunk her Keihl was, and just that thought started a stirring deep in her belly. Jesus, this was crazy.

  “What’s up, Kevin?”

  “You’ve got a visitor,” he said, his eyebrows waggling.

  Kirsten could make out a blonde head standing behind him. Before Kevin stood aside, his eyes went wide, and he mouthed the words. “So HOT.”

  Idiot.

  Kirsten had to put a hand to her mouth to smoother her smile at her juvenile, but amusing, coworker.

  “Hi!”

  Kirsten’s jaw dropped. “Sharon?”

  She gave Kirsten a bemused smile. “Last tim
e I checked, anyway. You got a few minutes?”

  Kirsten waved Sharon toward a chair as she rose, moving to the door to close it. Sharon took the seat, smoothing her black skirt over long, trim thighs, the tasteful, but sexy heels showing off smooth, tanned legs that gleamed in the light.

  “What, uh. What brings you out here?”

  Sharon had never come to the office before. Hell, she’d only seen Sharon in person once before, a quick lunch taken during one of Keihl’s trips. Of course, they’d talked on the phone several times, but this … was new.

  “Quite a set up you’ve got here.” Sharon winked, the pale blonde of her hair catching the harsh overhead light, rendering it almost white. “Moving up in the world!”

  “Heh, I wish it was as good as it looked,” Kirsten said, dropping into her chair, her hand caressing her belly for a moment.

  Sharon’s eye caught it, and she beamed. “So … how’s it going? Still painting the walls, or is that over with?”

  “Thank God, yes. No more puking.” Kirsten hated the blush that heated her cheeks. “Different problem now.”

  “Well, if you’re anything like I am during my second trimester, you’re probably thinking about sex every waking hour.” Sharon glanced over her shoulder, and leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “I think I’d have fucked anything with a penis during my second trimester. Poor Tom didn’t know what to do with me.”

  Kirsten’s throat tightened. “What … did he do?”

  “Gave me plenty of what I wanted, of course.” She giggled. “Men.”

  “Keihl and I… we don’t have that problem.” She gave Sharon a little shrug. “He takes care of the issue.”

  “So you’re not horny as a fifteen year old now?” Sharon crossed her legs, her black heel dangling from her wiggling toes.

  Kirsten put her face in her hands. “Worse. I seriously considered … never mind. Yeah, it’s bad.”

  Sharon made a sympathetic sound. “So, did you… talk about it with him?”