by Trent Evans
“Keihl, please… I’m gross.” Her face had flushed scarlet, but he wasn’t done.
“You don’t understand how beautiful you look. How the men look upon you as you walk by, wishing they were the man who’d made such a gorgeous woman swell with their child. The women either stared daggers at you — or they wanted you. I’m still not sure which.”
“Jesus, Keihl. They did not.”
“I watched one of them actually lick her lips.” He gently kissed the back of her head, pinning her thighs against the cooler, making her gasp. “Stay right there, just for a minute, girl.”
He loved the way her chest heaved as she obeyed, stuck in place like a deer in the headlights. He stayed close to her without being too close, just the presence of his body behind her keeping her rooted in place.
“I’m glad I nixed that horrible padded bra you insist on wearing, girl.”
He stepped around her then, leaning his ass against the cold metal of the cooler, meeting her gaze before pointedly dropping his. She followed it, gasping as she took in the hard, prominent points of her nipples under the sheer gray top. Her arm came up instinctively.
“Ah ah ah. Don’t even think about it. We talked about that, remember?”
She swallowed hard, then put her arm down, bright color suffusing her cheeks, her eyes liquid, the pupils dilated, lust, distress, mortification, and excitement swirling in their beautiful depths.
Before he left her, he leaned close again, whispering so only she could hear it, her body ramrod straight, her breath held as if hanging on his every word.
“You’re so embarrassed, aren’t you, bad girl? But you don’t need to be. You’re the most beautiful thing in this place, I assure you. Men will stroke their cocks tonight, their come shooting into the air in tribute to the sweep of those hips, the gorgeous swell of that belly, wishing they could twine a fist in that thick hair of yours.” His fingers whispered over her cheek, the heat he felt in her skin only stirring the animal in him that much more. “Those women who stared after you enviously. Some of them will go home tonight, and think of your beauty as their husbands thrust away between their thighs, they’ll come to the image of themselves in the same state, hoping they’d look even half as stunning as that pregnant woman they spotted at the store today.”
Her breasts, the nipples still hard as rock, rose and fell rapidly, her gaze locked with his, her mouth open slightly as if the words she would speak somehow failed to convey what she really felt, really knew deep inside. The truth of Keihl’s lust, the dark, twisted pleasure of what he’d made her endure.
Then Keihl gave her soft bottom a little slap, and he pushed himself away from the cooler.
“See you up front, bad girl.”
He took his time strolling up to the check stands, grinning his triumph the entire way.
Chapter Thirty Four
“Now, we’ve gone over this, haven’t we? Are you ready for your rubdown?”
The term made her think of a thoroughbred horse. Perhaps that was why he chose it?
Keihl stood before her, his hands on his hips, the deep blue of his warm-ups filling her field of vision as she knelt on the living room carpet.
“I could do it myself, you know.” She peered up at him giving him a wry smile. “I’m pregnant, not helpless.”
“Sir.”
“Sorry. Sir.”
She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him. The playful mood she was in was going to get her ass in a sling.
With luck.
Kneeling naked before her husband was erotic in any situation, yet somehow, with her swollen, bulging belly, she felt that much more naked, vulnerable.
She was sure her pussy was dripping moisture onto her calves, neatly folded below her. He’d cuffed her arms behind her back before ordering her to her knees — he’d taken the day off, and he’d kept her naked since she woke up that morning. It was a feeling unlike any she’d ever experienced before, a primal, forbidden freedom that made her nervous and aroused in equal measure.
Just the way she knew he liked her.
“Keep it up, and you’re getting a spanking before your rubdown, bad girl.”
She softened her voice. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
A spanking might not be a bad thing though — at least it would lessen some of the tension in her muscles.
Kneeling with your arms bound behind you doesn’t exactly help with that either, Kirsten.
“I’m going to undo your cuffs, and you’re going to walk to the kitchen. I laid a thick towel up on the butcher’s block, and I want you up there, too. Hands and knees.”
Her nipples drew tight, her breathing increasing as he unlocked the cuffs, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips as the unyielding cold metal fell away from her wrists.
“Come on, gorgeous,” he said, holding out a hand. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
She grasped his hand, grateful for the help. Though she wasn’t quite seven months, she was already feeling the change in her center of gravity, and getting up from a kneeling position was a lot harder than it used to be.
Her breasts swayed and jiggled as she got to her feet noting it with a smile, his fingers tracing the border of one coffee brown areola. She still couldn’t get used to the color, to how they’d enlarged, even swollen somewhat. Kirsten knew he’d always loved the coral color of her nipples — he couldn’t keep his lips and tongue off of them for long — but when they darkened, and enlarged, she feared he’d be repulsed.
Fortunately — or unfortunately — he’d been anything but. Now, he seemed perpetually obsessed with her breasts.
She tried to clamber up onto the block, but Keihl stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Jesus, I’m an idiot,” he muttered to himself. He kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’m sorry, girl. Let me.”
Then he plucked her from the floor, as if her swollen, gravid body weighed almost nothing, the strength in his arms making her pant every time he let her really feel how powerful he was.
It was a strange thing, pregnancy. As he placed her on her hands and knees, his big hand stroking the curve of her naked hip as if she were a prize animal on the auction block, she wondered at some of the little things she missed, little things she didn’t even know were things.
Of course, she missed wine — God damn did she. Spicy food, one of her indulgences, had been long ago banished; the heartburn she’d end up with afterward was sooo not worth it.
But there were other things, too. She missed not feeling like a whale, she missed that feeling in the early morning, when she could spring from the bed as if a child, a bounce in her step thanks to a good night’s sleep.
Surprisingly, she found herself missing even more elemental things, too. The feeling of simply wrestling on the bed with Keihl, the swoon-worthy, primal pleasure of feeling his strength completely overpower hers, the way his arms would wrap her up, his deep growl of pleasure as she giggled and sighed her surrender, the way he’d pin her to the mattress, not saying a word as his hard cock thrust deep, his prize for conquering his beloved wife all over again.
Kirsten yelped as a stinging slap to her bottom brought her back to the present.
“I asked you a question, bad girl. Are you ready?”
Keihl had the white bottle balanced on one palm held up for her to see, to know what would come next. It was time for her rubdown.
“Yes, Sir, I’m ready.”
Her breasts felt so heavy as they swung below her, throbbing in time with her pulse, her nipples already hard, anticipating the caress of his fingers. Ostensibly, the lotion was for her belly, a vitamin E based oil that was supposed to help lessen the stretch marks. He’d long ago told her he didn’t care a whit if she developed stretch marks, and indeed, she knew he’d probably see them as some sort of masculine mark of his ownership upon her, the record of his mastery of her body in every sense of the word.
Men.
“Up. Ass on those heels.” He tapped her arm. “Han
ds up, behind your head. You know I want you showing off that belly and those tits. Display, girl.”
Straightening her spine, she laced her fingers together behind her head, the position lifting her heavy breasts, the air cool against the sweat on her skin. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes as he walked slowly around her. She knew he enjoyed this part almost as much as what was to come, Keihl letting the anticipation build, drinking in his fill of her naked, vulnerable body.
“I’d keep you like this all the time, if I could. You look so fucking gorgeous, Kirsten.”
His hands caressed her as he circled her, fingertips stroking the sensitive underarms, making her catch her lip between her teeth, his palm gently kneading the throbbing of first one breast, then the other. He’d rub his knuckles across her aching nipples, making her gasp before passing around behind her. His strong hands took hold of her hips, leaving no doubt in his mind where his gaze had fallen.
“Not enough color, bad girl.” Lips pressed soft kisses of promise along the line of her shoulder. “After this, you’re getting a spanking. I’m going to take my time with it too. You’ll kneel on the bed for me and wait. I want your bottom facing the door, and when that door opens you’ll put your face to the mattress. Can you still do that with your belly?”
His hand reached around and stroked over the full curve of it.
She drew in a quick, shaky breath, trying to ignore the dark stain she was sure was growing on the towel below her.
“I think I can, Sir.”
“Good.”
His hands eased up over the slope of her belly, leaving her skin tingling in their wake, and lifted her breasts. Slowly, so slowly, he squeezed them. He was gentle with it, but the message was unmistakable.
Mine. All of it.
And she’d ceased trying to argue against the truth of it, against the truth of the way she moaned, her head falling back as he softly pinched her hard nipples, rolling them slowly, agonizingly, between his fingers, making her whole body tremble. She knew he wanted to do so much more to them, make them hurt just the way he knew she liked — and part of her would only encourage him to do it, to do his worst. But they were both mindful of what Tom told them. Taking it easy with the nipple stimulation was the smart thing to do.
Dammit.
At least it meant her husband couldn’t take the flogger to her breasts anymore.
She tried to ignore the twinge of twisted regret she felt at that knowledge.
Unfortunately, his fingers, lips, and tongue were deadlier to her self-control than any implement ever could be.
His clever fingers traced the surrounds of her nipples, stroking, milking the hard tips with knowing, devastating effectiveness.
“Oh God, Keihl…”
“Soon,” he murmured, giving her nipples a pinch, just enough delicious pain to make her breath hitch, her body spasm.
Evil man.
He moved to stand in front of her once more, his finger lifting her chin so she could look upon him, her face burning.
“Every time I see you like this, I see why some men like to keep their wives pregnant.”
He leaned forward and kissed her, his soft touch lingering, his tongue searching just inside her lips. His growl penetrated down to the core of her body, a vibration that reverberated through her now soaked pussy, her clit and nipples seemingly connected by pathways of intense pleasure.
Keihl drew back enough to lock eyes with her once again. “You’ve never, in all the days I’ve known you, looked more beautiful than you do right now.”
His words flooded through her, filling her with a warmth far more profound than she could explain. Though she couldn’t help but be embarrassed at the way he compelled her to display her naked body, hiding nothing from his possessive gaze, that knowledge that he still found all of it, found all of her, desirable… it made it all the sweeter.
Though it was still a trial, obeying him in this way, it was torture she feared and craved in equal measure, a test of sorts, something that showed how far she’d come as his submissive, his slave, his possession.
And a taste of how far she still wanted to go.
“Now, be still, girl.”
The cold spread over the crown of her belly, making her gasp. It was always that way. No matter how ready she thought she was, the feel of it was always a shock.
He coated her whole belly with the lotion, rubbing it in slowly, his touch as gentle as it was possessive. Every time he rubbed her down, she felt ever more his possession, his in all ways.
His girl.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured as she rose to her knees without prompting, allowing him to coat her lower belly in the cold lotion, his strong hands coursing over her skin, touching every inch, marking her as his beloved, owned property. It was more than loving, it drew her deeper into herself, safe in the knowledge that this wonderful, fierce, loving man would protect her always.
Protect them always.
His fingers lingered along the under curve of her belly, rubbing the lotion in lower and lower, his eyes on his task, Kirsten hoping he couldn’t actually see her pussy dripping. It never failed to turn her on, this intimate, embarrassing, exhilarating exercise in surrendering her body to him for his care, for his adoration, for his pleasure.
For she knew how it was likely to end.
He was already hard — she could see the way his cock pressed against the crotch of his warm-ups, tenting the fabric, the sight making her lick her lips. His palm cupped and gently squeezed her mound, making her pussy clench, the lips of her wet sex slipping together as he massaged her mons slowly. Like the rest of it, he took his time, holding it in his hand, his eyes closing a moment, reinforcing to her that this too, was his.
She’d never dream of disputing the truth of it either.
Then he touched the very top of her slit with those slickened fingers and she drew in a quick breath.
“Sensitive?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
In fact, her pussy had gone past sensitive to ready-to-explode-at-the-slightest-touch. Or maybe that was just Keihl’s touch that did it. Either way, she was afraid she’d start thrusting against his hand like some bitch in heat.
Is that description really so far from what you’ve become, Kirsten?
He circled her clit, his touch just dancing around the edges of the now hard and erect bundle of nerves. She moaned, the sound low and keening. He drew a fingertip over her clit once, twice, and a third time, and her hips really did buck against him.
He grinned at her. “Like that?”
“Oh God, please… yes, Sir.”
He took his finger away then, holding a palm up to squeeze more lotion onto it. His eyes glittered as he gazed upon her.
“Not too much, then. Gotta keep you on a low boil for now. Do you want to come, Kirsten?”
With every fucking atom of my being.
“Yes, Sir.”
His jaw tightened. “And do you think I should let you?”
“Only… only if you think I deserve it.” She swallowed hard. “Sir.”
“Good answer.” He spread the lotion up under her breasts then, the cold taking her breath away. “And you don’t deserve it. Not yet. Be a good girl for me, and you might get to come after this.”
“Yes, Sir.” Her face flamed at the way her voice broke, the tone of it almost a defeated whimper.
His hands took hold of her breasts, and she closed her eyes, breathing hard as he kneaded each globe with those hard fingers. He coated her breasts liberally in lotion, squeezing and massaging it into her skin. He drew down each breast with squeezing fingers, until he held each nipple tight.
“Look at me, Kirsten.”
She opened her eyes, staring into his, her nipples throbbing in the clutch of those cruel and wonderful fingertips, her clit so swollen it felt ready to burst.
“Do you like it when I do this?”
His fingers tugged and twirled each nipple, and she gasped ag
ain.
“Oh fu— yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He kissed her once more and she kissed him back, hard, her fingers clasping tight in her hair. No matter how badly she wanted to, she knew he’d be displeased with her if she took her hands from the prescribed position.
Cruel man. Wonderful man.
His eyes narrowed as he held her gaze. “If you come during your rubdown though, you’ll be punished. Understand, bad girl?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, looking down. “Please…”
But he said nothing as he worked her breasts again, squeezing and caressing, lifting them on his wet palms, slapping each one lightly to watch it move as her cheeks blushed hot.
“God, I love your tits, girl. I can’t wait until they start leaking milk.” He squeezed them again, and she panted. “These are going to very busy I think.”
The promise and threat in his voice made her shiver, even as a bead of her juices slipped from between the lips of her pussy, coursing down the tender flesh of her inner thigh as she knelt up for him, for his commanding, deliciously cruel hands.
She kept her position quietly as he charged her skin with yet more lotion, his palm spreading it up until he’d slickened the hollow at the base of her throat. His hand clasped around her throat then, giving her a little possessive squeeze, her pulse pounding against his palm. He leaned in close, his soft lips pressing kisses to her burning cheeks, the corner of her mouth, over her eyes.
“My good girl,” he whispered in her ear. “Hands and knees now.”
Instantly, she obeyed, the relief of being on hands and knees far surpassing the renewed embarrassment of having her ass in the air for him once more. She knew he could see her arousal, if he but looked at her pussy. The scent of her on the air was unmistakable, though knowing he loved it didn’t make it any less mortifying to her.