by Trent Evans
“You’re staying right where you are.” He held up a finger. “Don’t move. I’ve got something for you.”
Keihl took the stairs two at a time up to the office. Retrieving it from the back of the bottom drawer of his desk, he brought it back to his waiting wife.
“What’s this?”
He lifted a shoulder, handing it to her. “Tom gave this to me several months ago. Made me promise not to open it until after the baby came.”
Kirsten’s eyebrows raised. “You know what it is?”
“No idea. Time to find out though. Open it.”
Her slim fingers tore at the dark blue paper, pulling it away to reveal a leather-bound book. Her mouth dropped open as she looked at the cover.
“What is it?” Keihl asked.
“It’s”—she handed the book over to him—“you’d better read that.”
His mouth went dry as he read the title, the words finely stitched in gold thread upon the leather:
The Care and Training of Your Slave Girl
(A Manual of Strict and Loving Dominance)
A knock sounded at the door, and Kirsten spun, holding a hand to her mouth. “Jesus… who?”
He touched the lock of hair that had come loose around her ear, the mass of dark tresses piled atop her head with the alluring Japanese sticks he so loved. He resolved he’d be finding her some kinky ones to wear for him soon.
“Wait here, girl.”
He set the book down on the small side table in the foyer, and opened the door. He stood aside as the two men entered. Both of the visitors were dressed in black suits, one of them carrying a garment of striking deep crimson draped over his arm.
Kirsten’s big eyes went wide. “Tom? Blaine? I don’t…”
Blaine gave her a little nod, then glanced at Keihl. “She really didn’t know?”
“Told you he had the right stuff,” Tom murmured.
“Do you remember the trial run we spoke about last week?” Keihl closed the door, drawing the deadbolt before turning back to his wife.
“Y-yes, but I don’t understand.” Then the color ran from her face. “You don’t mean…”
Keihl nodded. “I’ll be damned if I’m sending my wife to some stranger for her first time, tradition or not. So I asked for a volunteer.” Keihl looked at Blaine and Tom, then back at his wife. “I got two.”
“You guys are… serious?”
Blaine held an arm out to his side. “I sure as shit don’t get dressed up in these monkey suits without a damn good reason.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Tom said, the warmth of his smile not quite masking the subtle avarice in the man’s gaze.
The bastard’s been looking forward to this.
Truth be told though, so had Keihl, as insane as it sounded.
She looked to Keihl then, and he saw the mix of fear and anticipation he’d hoped for. Still, he went to her again, hugging her tight, whispering into her hair.
“Nothing more than you can handle, girl. You’ll be fine. I promise.” He looked down upon her, those big, bright eyes seeming to fill his field of vision. “This is happening. Are you ready? We won’t do this, if you’re not.”
A shudder ran through her and she laid her forehead against his chest. “I—I can do this.”
“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. Then he stepped back with a sigh, looking to Tom and Blaine, waiting.
Tom’s voice was soft. “You ready to do this, Keihl?”
After many months of momentous decisions, this suddenly felt like the biggest one of all. Then he met Kirsten’s gaze, and he saw her pupils had already dilated, her breathing heavier, her nostrils flared.
“She’s ready,” Keihl said. Then he gave his wife a curt nod. “Take your clothes off, Kirsten.”
“W-What?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “All of them.”
“Here… now?” Her lower lip trembled.
“Right now.” Keihl said.
Kirsten turned her back to the men, unbuttoning her blouse and letting it drop to the floor. She paused a moment before unbuttoning her jeans. Her knees bent as she pushed both her jeans and panties down her legs, couching down to extricate her feet.
“Stand up straight and turn around, Kirsten.”
She inhaled deeply, then obeyed, facing the men, her cheeks flaming scarlet. Keihl’s cock was already aching hard, and at that moment, he knew the trial run would be far harder for him to bear than it would be for her. The room crackled with tension, Tom and Blaine both visibly aroused.
“Are her tits normally that swollen?” Blaine winked at Keihl. “Not that I’m complaining, believe me. She’s gorgeous.”
Kirsten made a tiny, frightened sound.
“She still nursing?” Tom glanced at Keihl. “Nipples don’t look too inflamed.”
“Definitely — and she’s not stopping anytime soon,” Keihl said. He lifted a finger. “Hands behind your head, girl.”
He wasn’t sure she’d actually do it, but he needed to push her a little, to test her ability to obey any command given to her. They’d talked about it, of course, and she certainly had no problem obeying Keihl — but this was something else entirely. A balk at this point, and he’d know she wasn’t ready, no matter what she said.
He swallowed down a sigh of relief as she slowly obeyed, dropping her gaze to the floor as she laced her fingers together behind her. The position lifted her heavy, milk-swollen breasts, the long nipples a deep red-brown color. A faint network of bluish veins could be seen, the pale skin of her breasts almost translucent.
“Beautiful,” Tom murmured, his gaze locked upon the displayed globes.
“She’s nursing exclusively, so I want to make sure her production doesn’t drop at all.” Keihl reached out, tweaking one of the hard nipples between thumb and forefinger. “Stimulating her nipples helps with her let-down. The more the better.”
Blaine’s dark eyes glittered. “That won’t be a problem.”
“The lotion seems to have worked well.” Tom looked to Keihl. “Do you mind?”
“Go for it.”
Kirsten’s breath caught as Tom’s fingers traced over her nearly flat belly. “You’re looking great, Kirsten. Only a few stretch marks here, I see.”
“She’s incredibly self-conscious about them.” Keihl smiled. “It doesn’t matter how much I tell her they’re beautiful, she doesn’t believe me.”
“Sharon was the same way,” Tom murmured. “She eventually came around though.”
Blaine walked around her looking her naked body up and down. He paused behind her. She bit off a yelp as he squeezed one of her buttocks.
“No marks?” Blaine raised an eyebrow at Keihl.
“I’ve been going easy on her, but that needs to stop. I was afraid spanking her might reduce her flow.”
“You can ease her into it, and it won’t affect let-down at all,” Tom said. He flashed a wry grin. “Just ask Sharon.”
Kirsten whimpered softly.
“It’s okay, girl.” Keihl wished he could hug her at that moment, to reassure her how incredibly gorgeous he found her, but he knew it would make the whole process of letting her go with them that much harder. He reminded himself for the hundredth time that it was only for a night.
This time.
Tom gently lifted Kirsten’s chin so he could see her eyes. “You ready to go?”
Her delicate throat worked, then she finally spoke, her voice a husky whisper. “Yes… but. I can’t go like this.”
Blaine extended his arm, the crimson fabric extending toward the floor. “Another little tradition we like to follow.”
“What… is that?” Kirsten’s arms began to drop, but she quickly raised them again at Keihl’s low growl.
“A cloak,” Tom said. “It’s called the Intake Shroud.”
“Put it on,” Blaine said. “Here, I’ll help you.”
He stepped close, easing her arms down and draping it across her shoulders.
“This is all you’ll be allowed until we return you tomorrow,” Blaine said.
Kirsten pulled at the two halves of the cloak. “It… it’s only got the one button.”
The cloak fastened at the base of her throat. It was obvious it would reveal everything as she walked however.
“Don’t worry,” Blaine said with a wolfen grin. “You won’t be wearing it long.”
“Any restrictions?” Tom asked, turning to Keihl.
“No. But bring her back in the same shape she left.” Keihl locked gazes with his frightened — and aroused — wife. “You’ll obey any command given to you as if it were me. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He saw the pleading in her eyes, and couldn’t resist hugging her close one last time. He kissed her soft, trembling lips, tasted her skin. “No fear, girl. I’ll never let you be hurt. You’re ready now, Kirsten. I love you — and I’m proud of you.” He took her hand, and placed it in Tom’s, meeting her gaze one last time. “Be brave, be strong — and be good.”
Then the two men took their leave, Kirsten in hand, her crimson cloak billowing behind her.
# # #
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Other Books By Trent Evans
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Publisher's Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!
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