Maintenance Night (7 page)

“Troy, please!” she panted as his hips smacked her sore buttocks, his cock driving deep.

“Just relax, girl. Nothing you can do about this anyway. Make it easy on yourself and relax now.” His voice held a rich note of immense satisfaction.

Harder, harder he fucked her, his hands clamping on to her hips, using the leverage to drive further, mount her like a male beast.

“Ah fuck, Lace,” he groaned. “Coming!”

His fingers crushed her clit between their hard tips. She screamed as the flash of pain pulled her over, the pleasure/agony of her exploding clit melding with the sinking, dark pleasure of his long, thick cock relentlessly pounding into her sore, stretched ass. He yelled out, fingers digging painfully into her hips, his cock spasming deep within her. She felt the hot spray fill her bowels and she clenched down on him, inflaming the abraded nerve endings of her hard-used ass as she squeezed the last of his seed from his cock.

She moaned, blowing out great gusts of breath as he slowed. He braced himself with twin handfuls of caned, burning buttock flesh, his breathing harsh, ragged. He pressed a firm kiss to the nape of her neck. “You’re forgiven, Lacey.”

Lacey burst into tears. Finally, the words she’d ached for. Her punishment was over. He left her bound on the bench, lost in the darkness of her pain and exhaustion. Most of all she was lost in the confusion of her mind. She’d just been sodomized by her loving husband — and she’d come like a wanton slut.

New horizons, indeed.

He was back at her side, softly molding a warm, wet washcloth to her cleft. She sighed as he cleaned her, his fingers twining with hers gently as he eased her punished buttocks apart to press the cloth against her aching bottom hole. She could feel him wipe away the slickness from her cleft. Within moments it was all off of her, the straps, the cuffs, the collar, and it was just Lacey, held in the hard, muscular arms of her Troy.

He set her down on the bed, easing her over onto her side to avoid irritating the inflamed tissues. He kissed the hair at her forehead. “Be right back.”

She thought she heard the sounds of running water, but her mind was flying, lost in that foggy mixture of elation, pleasure, and exhaustion that always followed a punishment. She made a soft sound as his arms gathered her up, his hard biceps flexing against her legs, his strength enveloping her.

“This might sting a little, Lace.” She moaned, tensing for a moment as he lowered her into the steaming water. Lacey sighed deeply, feeling the warmth of the bath seep into her bones. The water made her marks throb and ache, but it didn’t matter as long as he was with her, taking care of her. He undid the ponytail, letting her hair fall heavy over her shoulders, the ends floating in the scented water. The blindfold fell away from her eyes, and she blinked against the light of the candles scattered around the dim bathroom.

“Troy, I need … ” She reached for him, her eyes heavy. Despite her exhaustion, her breath caught as she watched him climb into the tub, the thick cock, partially erect, swinging between heavily muscled thighs. He slid in behind her, cradling her between his legs and pulling her back against his powerful chest. She murmured as his hands stroked her, caressing her cheek, holding his fingertips to her lips so she could kiss them.

Lacey sighed as his hands gathered up the weight of her breasts, squeezing them gently, his fingers tweaking the hard tips. “You were such a good girl. Very brave.” He kissed her temple, his hands continuing to stroke her breasts. She thought she could die this way, simply pass over to the other side in this pure bliss. Wrapped in his arms, in his love.

Troy squeezed her breasts tighter, and she felt him hardening against her ass. She twisted her head back, her lips seeking him. His lips brushed hers, playing, tasting her. She kissed him harder, her tongue darting, twining with his, his breath one with hers.

He patted her cheek, his fingers brushing strands of hair from her eyes. “Later, little girl. You need your hair washed.”

Lacey leaned back against him once more, her hands playing over the bones of his knees, her nails scratching gently through the dark hair on his wet thighs. He washed her hair slowly, taking care to work all the tangles from her long tresses. His hands massaged her wet scalp, the sensation so heavenly, she nearly drifted off to sleep. By the time he’d finished lovingly soaping every inch of her skin, the heat within her pussy had fired to life once more. She wanted him, badly, but she was so tired, even her passion had to give way to sleep. For now.

He laid her on the cool sheets of their bed, her body still wrapped in a huge, soft towel. She blinked slowly, barely able to keep her eyes open, and smiled at her husband. “Come here.”

Troy stretched his naked, magnificent body beside her, opening her towel, baring her flesh to his gaze, to his wandering hands. She nestled her body against him, her leg curling over his thigh, his hot length of his cock twitching against the coolness of her hip.

“You could have … warned me,” she mumbled against him.

He flashed a mischievous grin. “What’s the fun in that? Sleep now, girl.”

She rested her cheek on his well-muscled chest, and he stroked the hair away from her temple. She drew in a deep shuddering breath, willing the tension to leave her body as she exhaled.

Now, Lacey. You’ve waited too long as it is.

“What is it, girl?” He stared up at the ceiling. She stroked a finger along the strong tendons at the base of his neck.

“I didn’t tell you the whole truth, Troy”

“Oh?” He pulled her tighter, looking down at her.

“No — I didn’t start.”

He was silent, his body very, very still. “Start what, Lacey?”

She gulped at the steel in his voice. She was in trouble, but there was nothing for it. They had to talk about this. “I never started my period. I’m late.”

He looked down at her once more, his eyes narrowed, jaw clenching. He looked back at the ceiling, tension thrumming through the strong body she lay upon. Then his eyes met hers, and she felt such a surge of relief, of joy, that tears welled in her eyes once more.

“Well, this deserves a punishment, I should think. Lying is not allowed, you know.” His mouth curved into that devious smile — the one that came out when another idea had come to him. “It will depend though.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek, pressing her soft lips to his chest. “On what?”

“On the results of your test, of course.”

She lifted her head. “Wh—what?”

“You’re taking a test tomorrow morning. If it’s negative, you’re getting the spanking of your life.”

Her eyes went wide. “And if it’s positive?”

He grinned. “Then we’ll search for a kink friendly OB so I can ask them how much spanking is safe for a pregnant woman.”

The End

# # #

Did you like what you just read?
Sign up
here
for Trent’s New Release e-mail alerts.

No Spam — just new books!

Excerpt

Read on for an excerpt of Night Beach, Book One of the Dominion Trust series,

Night Beach

A Dominion Trust story.

What is a modern, independent woman to do when the only thing she truly wants is to be enslaved? Erica, a young, beautiful college student is looking for that something which speaks to what she truly is deep down inside. Is it possible to finally find peace, even happiness within the strict bonds of utter submission?

When Blaine a powerful, successful businessman realizes he and his wife are ready for something new, a deeper exploration of the love and lust they've shared as husband and wife, the naive, fetching Erica enters the picture. As a member of the Dominion Trust, Blaine has seen the unique energy of other couples who've taken a submissive into their beds, and into their lives.

Blaine's wife Kathryn, a fiercely driven executive in her own right submits to her husband in all things, but as the years have gone by, new needs, darker desires are stirred within her. Is she ready for a submissive of her own? Is their D/s marriage ready for a third, a slave, to join with them?

In this story, three people come together to find out if happiness really can be found in the complicated dance of dominance and submission, pain and pleasure of a BDSM menage relationship.

Warning - this contemporary BDSM novella contains the following:

D/s, Spanking, Paddling, bondage, clamps, sadomasochism, rough explicit sex (MF and FF), and a young, wide-eyed woman exploring the depths of her submission.

EXCERPT

Erica was one night away from fulfilling her lifelong dream — to experience true submission. Why does a modern, free woman seek to give away her liberty? To fritter it away in pursuit of that one state of being, that singular experience of being subject to another’s will.

Standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, she felt lost in the immense room, lost within herself. There were people outside, far below on the beach, walking along the car-choked road crowded on both sides with businesses all jockeying for the same tourist dollar. Atop the hill, nestled among Douglas fir and towering Western Hemlock, the sprawling house — her temporary prison — surveyed all.

The late afternoon sun hit the water at just the right angle, the light captured, reflected, transforming the blue green, foam-flecked ocean into the mottled iridescence of flowing, molten metal. Erica had always loved the sea, and though she’d lived most of her life within ninety miles of it, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually seen it. Every time, it took her breath away; the enormity of it; that confirmation, at once humbling and freeing, of just how small and insignificant a human being really was.

“Come to the ocean to be … not free,” she whispered. “You should have listened to your Mom.”

A mother’s job is to protect her young, and Erica remembered that night she’d told her mother she’d be taking a break from school. There were the questions, the suspicions, all of it overlaid with the unspoken fear a good mother feels when her young, naive children stray from carefully laid parental plans.

Erica found those plans nothing less than a numbing path to invisibility, the captivity of normal expectations; she sought captivity of quite another sort.

No, mom, it’s not because of a boy. Erica couldn’t really tell her could she? Some things just can’t be processed.

No mom, it’s not because of a boy. It’s because of a boy … and a girl.

When your life has been meticulously planned, managed by your parents all the way up to college, you’re going to be taking some flack when you decide to quit said college — and Erica took a lot of it.

Worse than her worried mother though, had been the stone-cold silence from her father. He wouldn’t even talk to her. It was like something you’d watch in a Lifetime™ movie: daughter delivers Big Reveal; seething Father, brow properly furrowed, stalks off accompanied by mournful piano score. End scene.

Erica didn’t blame him, of course — not one bit. She’d have been livid if she’d been in their shoes. But they didn’t really know, couldn’t really understand. How do you explain the appeal of subjugation, the frisson of lust a girl experiences amidst diabolically cruel humiliation, the soaring, otherworldly high following the searing pain of a caning? Trying to explain that to her loving parents would be about as successful as attempting to teach algebra to a toddler.

So she ran. It had been six months since that night.

The door opened behind her, but she stayed rooted to her spot, gazing out at the freedom just beyond the glass. The elegant maid Ana had said she’d be up soon to deliver Erica’s “meal.” How bread and water were regarded as a meal, Erica would never understand. She’d been warned though. Sir had outlined to her over the phone what accommodations she could expect at the beach house, and part of her at least (that unthinking part south of her waist), really didn’t mind the idea of mealtime as penance. As long as it was by his direction, by their direction, she would obey … and want even more.

Down there, a lazy summer evening unfolded, the crisp, salt-scented wind banishing any trace of the afternoon’s summer heat while atop the hill, Erica, the tall, lonely bird, caught in her gilded cage looked on, at once wistful and grateful. Her keen vision could pick out the red flash of color as someone slid across a sheen of waterlogged sand on a boogie board. Much further out she could see the white smudge of a low-slung cabin cruiser, bobbing as it drew too near to the surf zone.

Then a moment before she felt it, she saw the slight movement, the black color out of the corner of her eye, reflected in the thick double pane of the huge plate glass window. She moved to turn, but a hand pressed to her upper back, pushing her against the cold plane of the window. Nipples stiffened under the thin blouse, her chest against the hard glass. “Stay right there. Hands on the window.”

It was him! Her heart hammered in her chest, her hands shaking. She put her heated palms against the cool glass.

“Higher.”

She ran them along the smooth surface, grateful for something to mask her shakes.