Maintenance Night (2 page)

His whispered “Good girl” had made her both shudder and sigh. It was mortifying, but his making her inform him was just another subtle aspect of his control, a sliver of her independence taken away.

He shook his head, his fingers catching each of her nipples in a firm clench. The thin fabric of her top offered scant protection.

“When.”

She craned her head back at him. “I’m not — sure.”

“Try again.” His fingers squeezed and she gasped in pain.

“Two… maybe three days ago.” She wasn’t really sure, but she feared her hesitation might look like deception.

His fingers tightened further, her nipples screaming. She bit her lower lip, stifling her yell. “What did we agree you would do, Lacey?”

Oh God, don’t make me say it.

“Troy, please. Can’t we just—”

“Say it, Lacey,” he said, steel creeping into his voice.

She swallowed, the humiliation almost too much to bear. “I’m to tell you when my menstrual period begins and when it ends.”

“And if you don’t?”

“I — If I don’t, I’ll be punished.”

He lightly slapped both of her breasts, and walked around her, shaking his head in mock concern. She felt like a mouse in a cat’s jaws as he crossed his arms over his massive chest, his dark gaze boring into her — relentless, demanding. “Did you think it would just be taken care of on Maintenance Night?”

“No! I wouldn’t—”

“Be quiet.” He waved a hand in front of her. “The time for explaining is done. This’ll be extra.”

Her eyes went wide. “Troy!”

His hand grasped her throat and she caught her breath. He stepped closer, speaking into the hair above her temple. “Be
quiet,
Lacey.”

She dropped her eyes, nodding miserably.

“Good. At least you can still follow some directions.”

She tried to suppress the trembling she knew he could feel through her body. Extra meant more pain, more humiliation, and more disapproval from her husband.

Lacey hated his disapproval, but she detested the humiliation of calling to inform him her pussy had stopped seeping blood.

Now, as she stood there, his hand around her neck like a living collar, she knew how stupid she’d been.

Maintenance spankings were bad enough — and now she’d gone and made it worse.

He leaned in close, his dark, piercing gaze freezing her in place. “You asked for this. You need this. So why do you still disobey me?”

She couldn’t bear to look, her gaze sliding away. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Look at me, Lacey.”

Her gaze reluctantly met his, and her breath caught at the possessive lust in his eyes, a look that had her pussy moistening even as she shivered with dread.

“You like it, don’t you?”

She looked down once more, the blush on her face burning bright.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, the cool smell of his cologne washing over her. “Then we’ll get you plenty of what you like, little girl.”

Troy was still a moment, his hand squeezing her neck uncomfortably before he stepped away, saying, “Come into the living room, Lacey.”

Chapter Two

Troy sat casually on the leather ottoman. It was an incongruous image, considering how many times she’d been sprawled face down across the ottoman’s smooth, cool planes.

He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, his eyes dancing under the dark brows. “You know what to do.”

Her hands trembled as she unzipped her skirt. If she deviated even one iota from the strict somatic dance of the ritual, she’d been punished. He’d insisted she perform it until it was rote memory, but she still trembled before him during every performance.

She lowered the skirt’s zipper slowly, turning her hip toward him so that his avid gaze could follow every movement. She skimmed the tight skirt down her thighs, careful not to roll down the tops of her charcoal thigh highs with it. With the skirt pooled over her bare feet, she was naked from the waist down.

She turned to face away from him, giving him the view of her ass she knew he required, and keeping her legs straight as she bent over, ensuring him plenty of opportunity to enjoy the rounded curves of her bare bottom as she stepped out of the skirt. She was thankful she didn’t have to navigate the maneuver in sky-high platform pumps, but even in bare feet she still stumbled, her cheeks heating at the shiver of her plump buttocks as she regained her balance.

For once, she was grateful to be turned away from him. She could feel his amused smile at what he regarded as her endearing coordination issues. A surge of moisture slickened the lips of her pussy at the thought.

“Turn back around. You know what’s next.”

He didn’t normally talk. This was different.

She kept her gaze on the floor as she turned to him, her hands clasped at the small of her back, standing once again at attention.

“Legs,” his voice rumbled.

Lacey swallowed, noticing the obvious bulge at the crotch of his slacks as she spread her thighs shoulder width apart — nothing obscene, just enough to offer him an unimpeded view of his property.

Her cunt.

“You aren’t shaving often enough,” he said, leaning forward, staring at her mound. He looked up at her. “Do we need to go back to our schedule?”

“No, Sir.”

When he’d first ordered her to start shaving her pubic hair, she’d resisted, always looking upon a bald pussy as somehow dirty or slutty. It made her uncomfortable.

He’d offered to help her with it, and the first couple of times it was one of the most erotic things they’d ever done — her thighs widespread over the arms of the chair as he used a brush and foam to soap up her wiry thatch of pubic hair. Her pussy had been a seething ocean of lust by the time he was finished with her.

Eventually, it had become more work and less enjoyable. He’d ceased doing it himself, and expected her to keep herself scrupulously smooth for his daily inspections. She’d asked to use hair removal cream or to have it removed permanently with laser treatments, but he demanded she do it via shaving. He wanted her daily shaving ritual to remind her of whom that particular part of her anatomy belonged to, and when she failed in that duty, she’d be punished. The first time she’d taken six with his heavy oak paddle, she’d resolved never to let so much as a single hair grow there again, but now she’d failed in that, too.

He scratched a fingernail though the fine stubble. “Maybe I need to punish this too? Is that what it‘ll take to get it through to you that I want this pussy smooth?”

“No, Sir. Please.” Just the thought of his flogger slapping down onto the tender flesh between her thighs sent her trembling anew. He’d never done it but he’d threatened, and she had no doubt he was seriously considering it.

Not for the first time, she berated herself for biting off a fuck-ton more than she could chew. Giving her loving husband ownership of her body, while making her cunt melt, sometimes had a (painful) downside.

She winced as his palm slapped her thigh, the heat radiating outward. He straightened and said, “Get on with it, girl. I don’t have time to flog that cunt for you today.” He winked at her. “Maybe next time, though.”

Troy returned to his perch on the ottoman, wagging his finger at her to proceed. Lacey shuddered, pulling the tank top over her head, her full breasts bouncing as they came free of the restrictive clothing. She clasped her trembling hands behind her head, careful to keep her elbows back to ensure he had an unobstructed view of her charms.

Her nipples pebbled into aching stones under his gaze, her thigh-high stockings her only covering left. He regarded her unhurriedly, her nearly naked body his to admire at his leisure.

“Alright, get over my lap.” He pointed to his thighs, that familiar coldness hardening his visage once more, and she obeyed immediately, knowing her prompt cooperation was the only shred of hope she had that he might go easier on her.

Lacey tried to ignore her mischievous inner voice insisting she didn’t want him to go easy on her. Ever.

His strong hands clasped her hips as he took his time adjusting her position, ensuring he had her exactly as he wanted as his hard cock dug insistently into her hip. He moved her around as if she weighed nothing, making her feel like a plaything for his enjoyment.

You’re a toy, slut.

His hands, deceptively gentle, circled over the plump moons of her ass, readying her soft skin for what was to come. Fingertips eased between her cheeks, brushing over her anus, and she wriggled at the intimate invasion.

Fingers entwined themselves in her damp hair and yanked her head up and back, forcing an animal noise from her as the pain flared in her scalp.

“Keep still, Lacey.” He shook her head, a small, quick movement. ”I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

She froze, though her heart jack-hammered in her chest.

“Good,” he murmured, his hands returning to caress her buttocks, squeezing her lush flesh in one hand as the other slipped between her thighs.

“Oh God, Troy,” she moaned.

His hand slapped against her swollen labia with a wet smack. “Keep that mouth shut, Lacey. Unless you need to cry out, you keep it zipped. I’ll gag you if you don’t.”

Knowing he preferred her silence didn’t help when his cruel hand crashed down over and over — asking her to be quiet during a spanking was like asking water to flow uphill.

His hands stilled, one palm stretched over a cringing cheek, the other clasping her waist. She froze, the tension crackling through her limbs. The room was nearly silent, only the faint hum of the refrigerator’s compressor interrupting the almost dead quiet.

“I’m waiting Lacey.”

Oh God.

“Please spank me, Sir.”

“And?” She could feel the heat of his cock pressed to her, and she wanted to kneel at his feet and kiss it, take him into her mouth, and assuage his lust. Maybe it would save her hide. Yeah, right.

“Lacey!” His hand slapped her bottom, the pain blazing across her skin. She dropped her head, her hair shrouding her face as it burned.

“I – I deserve to be punished for failing to follow your directions, Sir.”

“Yes, I agree.” His hand smacked one cheek firmly, caressed her flesh, then crashed down into the other cheek, making her writhe. He kept up that pattern, the speed and heaviness of his spanks increasing.

SMACK, stroke. SMACK, rub.

Soon, the blows were continuous, the heat in her ass rising rapidly. His spanks became heavier, sometimes stinging the upper slopes of her cheeks, then smacking down onto her sit spot. She couldn’t help but move her hips, the heat growing by the second.

“Keep still, Lacey. Be a good girl.” His voice was thick with arousal, his cock throbbing against her.

His hand cracked down onto the back of her vulnerable thighs as her keening scream accompanied the scissoring of her legs. The pain of it shocked her, and had he not been holding her pinned to his thighs, she would have tried to run from further such blows. But she had no choice but to endure, his strength something she had no hope of countering.

“Ah god, Sir! Please!”

“Shh, that was nothing,” he said, pausing to trace the marks with his fingers. “We’re just getting started, bad girl.”

His hand peppered quick blows down one thigh and up the other, her pained gasps accompanying each strike. She squirmed continuously, his grip on her hip almost painfully tight. Her flesh burned, and she kept her legs apart enough to avoid rubbing her suddenly stinging thighs together.

“There we go, just calm down now,” he said, back to rubbing gentle circles over her inflamed flesh. “We’ve got some nice color.”

His hand glided up the smooth plane of her back, fingers sliding through the light sheen of sweat on her skin. He stroked the nape of her neck. “Just relax, Lace.”

She nodded, trying to get her body to obey. She willed herself to slow her breathing, trying to cope with her burning bottom. He continued stroking her nape, his fingers burrowing into her hair, then tracing the vertebrae of her neck.

“Does it hurt?”

She swallowed down a small sob. “Yes, Sir.”

Troy leaned down, his breath whispering against her hair. “Good.”

His strong hands massaged her shoulders, kneaded the tense muscles in her back. By inches, she relaxed over him, letting her head hang down once more. Fingers slipped under the band of her stockings, easing them down her legs. Her legs trembled as he bade her hold each foot up in turn, removing the thigh-highs.

“Mm, not much to these is there?” He asked, snapping the dark band of fabric at the top.

“No, Sir.”

“But they look fucking incredible.” He placed a soft kiss high up on the back of one thigh, his stubbled cheek brushing against her burning skin. She pressed her bottom up at him, feeling her cleft spread open to his gaze. She hoped she could entice him into assuaging the need a stiff spanking always stirred within her.