Dominion Trust Series - Vol.1 (76 page)

Keihl stood at the railing, the heels of his hand pressed to the stained wood. Tom sat down at the table, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

“I don’t know that I can do this, Tom.”

“You mean... with Kirsten?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if she’d ever go for this.”

“What about you?”

Keihl turned around, stroking the stubble he could feel starting at his chin and neck. He hadn’t shaved that morning. “I don’t know. I — like it. No point in bullshitting about it. But there’s no way Kirsten will go for this.”

He wasn’t sure he was completely ready to admit just how
much
he liked it. Was he some kind of sadistic fuck who got off on beating helpless women? Maybe he was. Maybe he needed to check himself into the booby hatch.

“I think you might be surprised.” Tom stood up, his bare, corded forearms crossed over his chest. “A lot of women like this stuff just as much as men do. Maybe even a little more.”

Keihl grunted. “We wish, right?”

“Exhibit A are those books on her reader, my friend.” Tom cocked an elbow toward the living room. “Exhibit B is my wife is in there following my instructions to the letter. She’s staying right where I left her, even though in a couple of minutes I’m going in there and spanking her ass red.”

Keihl leveled a glance at his smiling friend. “Sharon isn’t Kirsten.”

“Nope, you’re right. You two
will
have to find your own way — but you’ll find it.”

“I don’t know. This is—”

“Enough, Keihl. You aren’t fooling anyone, so you can drop the act. The only person here who feels weird about this is you.”

“So she
likes
having her ass whipped?”

He knew he shouldn’t even be having this conversation. The day had been so fucking strange, and it was getting stranger by the second.

“Let me put it to you this way. I’m going to spank Sharon until she’s crying. When I’m done, her cunt is going to be
dripping
. If you were… inclined to, she’d gladly let you take advantage of that fact and fuck her brains out.”

Keihl’s jaw dropped.

“But I know you and Kirsten aren’t there yet. So, I get it. I need to keep reminding myself of that.”

“Aren’t
there yet
? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is it suddenly a bad thing to be faithful to my wife?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Shit.” Tom gave him a weary grin. “Couples like us — Sharon and I — it’s understood. That’s not an issue in the way it is for… vanilla people, I guess you’d say.”

“I’m not even close to getting this, dude.”

“She’s mine, and everybody else knows it. Mine. And it’s not like I’m fucking anyone else. That’s not my thing — sharing her is. When I feel like it, I let others use her.”

Holy shit.

“Use? You mean fuck.”

Tom winked. “There’s a lot more that can be done with my slave girl than just fucking her, but yes, that’s definitely included.”

“Anyone? Does she get a say in it?”

“Well, sure. If there’s someone she absolutely can’t stand, I’m not going to force the issue.” Tom’s gaze cooled. “But in general, what I say, goes. And if I want to share her with someone, she obeys my wishes. She enjoys being the little party favor more than you’ll ever know, though. Believe me.”

“Fuck me,” Keihl whispered, looking down.

“That can be arranged.” Tom walked to the slider, easing it open. He cocked his head back at his friend. “Stop being a pussy, and at least come watch. That’s allowed, isn’t it? You can learn how to do this right, when the time comes.”

He opened his mouth, fully prepared to tell Tom to go fuck himself. But his friend had disappeared back into the house.

Jesus Christ, what have you gotten yourself into here, Keihl?

* * *

“W
hat do you have to say for yourself, Sharon?”

Keihl had returned to his chair. The lines across Sharon’s ass had darkened, a couple of them turning almost purplish. He winced as he watched Tom’s fingers gently squeeze one of them. A low keening came from the other side of the couch.

“I’m sorry for disobeying you, Sir. I was supposed to leave my panties on for you.”

“And?”

“I need to be punished… Sir.”

“But I just caned you. That wasn’t enough for you?”

Tom’s hand slipped between her thighs, and she sighed.

“N-no, Sir.”

“Insatiable slut,” Tom said, pulling his hand away to show Keihl the copious moisture spread over his fingers. Keihl crossed his hands over the span of his legs, his cock hard as a steel spike once more.

“What do you need then, Sharon?”

She couldn’t quite suppress the trembling in her voice. “I need to be — spanked. Please.”

“Very well, since you asked nicely.”

Tom leaned a hip against the couch, allowing him to peer over at his wife. “Shall I have Keihl give you your spanking?”

He rose to his feet. “Tom, I said no—”

His friend flashed him a quelling look and waved a quick hand at him. Keihl held his tongue.

“I-If he would like to,” she murmured.

“Does it make your pussy wet? The idea of Keihl spanking you?”

“Tom, I—”

“Watch your tongue, girl.” Tom’s low voice had turned icy. “Try again.”

A whimper escaped her before she composed herself. “Yes.”

“Yes,
what
?” Tom slapped a welted buttock, the flesh rippling with the blow.

“It makes my pussy — wet”—her voice dropped to a mortified whisper—”to think of Keihl spanking me.”

Keihl barely stifled a groan at the words.

Holy fuck!

“Well, that’s too bad, Sharon,” Tom said, stepping behind his wife’s ass. “You just get my cock tonight. Maybe next time. First though, we need to take care of one more thing.”

He adjusted her hips, ensuring she held the position he liked. She was pushed back at a more extreme angle, her sleek thighs held neatly together, a pleasing uniform plane stretching to the floor. Her bottom, curvy yet firm, pointed up at her executioner, waiting for what was to come.

Tom’s hand skimmed over the inflamed, weal-laced flesh, each cut of the cane now quite visible across the otherwise smooth, tanned flesh of his wife’s buttocks. Keihl winced, imagining how much they would ache the next time Sharon tried to sit down.

“Hmm, I think you’ll be okay,” Tom said, patting a particularly swollen line. “Let’s get this done.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Keihl felt a flush of sheepishness at the sound of her voice; he’d been staring at the tableau before him so intently, he’d come to see her as just a pair of buttocks to be beaten. He’d almost forgotten there was a person still there. Callous objectification. He found he really didn’t care anymore, and his cock throbbed its agreement.

There was no preamble, no warm-up; Tom’s hand smacked down with full force across the lower swell of Sharon’s ass, her body tensing at the blows. He took his time, spanking every inch of her curvy bottom with hard, punishing smacks. She hissed at the last one, a strike low at the juncture of thigh and buttock.

Tom stood back, his head tilting. “A good base. Now for some heat.”

“Honey, please.” Sharon’s voice was thick, strained.

“No, girl. You need this. Quiet now.”

Tom stood close to her side, gripping her around her waist with one arm, pinning her to him. With that, he began again; quick, random blows raining down upon her now squirming bottom.

“Oh! Please, Tom!”

“What?” He cracked down a vicious blow at the center of one cheek, and she let go a tight shriek.

“Sorry! Sir!”

“That’s better. Don’t forget again, or your little ass is going to be worse for it.”

He concentrated spanking each individual cheek then, smacking the same spot four or five times in a row. By the fifth blow, she’d be squealing. He repeated this, over and over, mercilessly. He covered her bottom with those series of smacks, until at the end, she was sniffling and moaning.

Tom paused, his big hand cupping one of the reddened, martyred buttocks. “What do you say, girl?”

Sharon bit off a sob. “I-I need this, Sir. Please give me more.”

“You sure about that? This ass looks very sore already.”

Her bottom shifted, and he clamped her hips tighter to him. His hand squeezed the blushing flesh, and she blew out a pained breath.

“No — I mean, yes. Please, Sir, I need more.”

“Okay, a few more. Then we’ll see if you can start doing as you’re told.”

His hand dealt several more punishing, thudding strikes, the flesh of her bottom rippling at each impact, and she cried out at each one, the volume rising to screams whenever a smack landed on previously welted flesh.

Keihl sat stunned, both at the severity of the punishment, and the almost paralyzing arousal he felt while watching it. It was a revelation to him.

Tom finished with one last tremendous smack along one of Sharon’s upper thighs, and she reared up, her keening wail heralding eyes that were now brimming over with tears.

“All better now, yes?”

She nodded, her streaming eyes downcast.

Tom’s hand brushed through his wife’s silky blonde hair and stroked the nape of her neck. “Back over, dear. We’re not done yet.”

Sharon’s hunted eyes darted back to Keihl, and for a moment their gazes met. Then she looked down again, and slowly sank back over the sofa, her chest heaving with a shaky breath.

Tom stood behind her, fingers playing over the painful pattern embossed on his poor wife’s hindquarters. She shifted suddenly as his hand moved between her thighs, one hand clenching the curve of her hip. Then he lowered his zipper and opened his pants, his erection springing forth. Before Keihl could move or say anything, Tom had taken a grip of Sharon’s hips and plunged his turgid cock into her. She grunted as he sank fully within her, his hips bumping up against her ass.

“Ah, so wet, girl,” Tom said, his hands stroking her hips as he plunged within her. Keihl could distinctly smell her arousal now, and it made his mouth water.

Kirsten.

“Tom, I can’t.” Keihl put his hand to his head, despite the voyeuristic urge within him to take in every detail of what was happening. The absurdity of the situation almost made him laugh.

“Look… don’t touch,” Tom ground out, not taking his eyes from his wife’s round bottom. “You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Not sure Kirsten would… agree.”

Tom slapped Sharon’s ass, hard, the sound like a pistol shot, and she mewled. “Rotate your hips like you’ve been told, girl.”

Sharon’s fine hips took on an exaggerated rolling and twisting. Tom groaned, patting her ass. “That’s it, Sharon. Much better.”

The couch creaked as Tom’s stokes increased in vigor, the almost fully-clothed man lunging forward repeatedly to stake his bound wife to the back of the couch. She began to pant as his strokes became more punishing. From Keihl’s vantage point, Sharon’s ass, with its starkly outlined weals over the inflamed red background, winked rhythmically into view as her husband plumbed her depths over and over.

“I can’t fucking
do
this, Tom.” Keihl stood and moved to the front door. He laid his hand on the brushed silver of the door handle, and paused. The rhythm of Tom and Sharon fucking had picked up speed, the slaps of flesh on flesh the counterpoint to her breathless moans.

“Fuck,” Keihl muttered as he closed the door behind him. The evening breeze had come up, invigorating the air with a coolness, a welcome change from the sweltering afternoon.

“Evening, Mr. Warren.”

Nathan’s hulking form leaned against the dark stained wood of the front porch railing. The big man’s muscular arms were clasped over his barrel chest. He’d changed to jeans and white tank top. Keihl thought the man looked like he could rip phone books in half.

“You got any cigarettes?” Keihl rubbed both of his hands over his face.

“Yeah,” Nathan said, digging into his pocket. “Didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t.” Keihl crooked a weary grin at the huge man, taking the proffered Marlboro from the ham fist.

“Everything okay in there?” Nathan flicked open the bright metal Zippo, lighting the cigarette Keihl held out.

Keihl puffed, wincing. “I suppose that depends how you define ‘okay’.”

Nathan smiled, stuffing the lighter back into his pocket.

The two men stood on the porch for a minute, watching the sun continue to fade from the evening sky. The Marlboro was making his head spin, and his belly roiled threateningly.

You fucking Nancy.

“Why are you here, anyway? Didn’t you have something else going tonight?” Keihl took one last drag off the cigarette, and looked around. He shrugged and dropped it to the concrete of the porch, grinding it under his heel.