The Spanked Wives Club (14 page)

Two cane strokes came in rapid succession, harder than the first few, and Christie mewled, her thighs whispering together, though her feet stayed planted on the platform.

“If I ever have to talk to Sheriff Mathis about this again, he has my permission to give you a skipping himself — before you come home and get the same from me all over again!” The cane landed once more across the lower part of her bottom and her cheeks clenched tight, a strangled sound from Christie drifting up to the gallery.

Lacey gasped then, though Hunter wasn’t sure if it was from the stiff discipline being meted out on the stage below or the three fingers Troy was thrusting deep between the swollen lips of her pussy. She gripped Hunter’s hand harder then, her head falling back, the little illumination that did reach them from the stage rendering her deep cleavage into stark light and dark, the smooth, soft skin making him want to touch much more than her hand.

Watch it, asshole.

But why? He’d already beaten her ass in broad daylight — then she’d taken him in her mouth. It had already been more of a dream than he could ever have imagined. And it seemed there was much more to look forward to. He knew it was insane to question it still, considering all that had happened already, but the more he thought about it, the more he didn’t trust himself, the more he feared he’d screw all of this up somehow.

Lacey moaned quietly, and Hunter held a hand to her lips, instinctively worrying about someone hearing.

He glanced over at Troy as the cane continued to fall below — and found Troy staring back at him.

“Get out of your own head, dude. This is part of the fun. What do you think half the couples watching this are doing right now?” Troy grinned, his teeth bright in the low light. He held up gleaming fingers. “Your turn, pal.”

“Troy…” Lacey looked from her husband, then back to Hunter, her eyes catching the harsh light from the stage below. What Hunter saw in her gaze, he wasn’t sure of, but he knew it sure as hell wasn’t reproach. Cautious eagerness was what came to mind, but he suspected the steel bar of his cock might be skewing his perception. Just a little.

Leaning close, Troy spoke into his wife’s ear loud enough for Hunter to hear, just as Christie cried out for the first time. “Get those tits out, girl.”

“Please, they’ll…”

“Trust me,” Troy said leaning over her, his gaze glinting. “Everybody’s glued to that stage down there.” He slipped a finger under the lower hem of her tank top, inching it up, exposing her smooth belly. “You’re not actually defying me, are you?”

“No,” Lacey whispered, her words tripping over themselves. “No, Sir, I’m sorry.”

Hunter did a double take as Lacey hiked the tank up and over her breasts, the heavy globes bouncing into view. Lacey’s face blushed scarlet, but she looked ahead, keeping the cotton bunched under her chin, Troy’s possessive touch making her shiver, his palm lifting one of her breasts. He bent to it, taking the prominent nipple in his mouth, making Lacey hiss.

For one moment, Hunter hesitated — then he caught Lacey looking at him out of the corner of her eye, waiting.

Hoping?

He took her in hand, the weight of her breast in his grip satisfying in an ancient, primal way. She caught her breath as he squeezed, the movement of her throat as she swallowed only making him want to claim her even more.

But she wasn’t his.

Not yet.

Troy let her nipple go with a loud sucking pop. “That’s the spirit.” He smiled up at Lacey. “A girl should be careful what she wishes for. Now she has not one, but
two
she has to obey.”

She closed her eyes tight as Hunter pinched her other nipple, hard. “Oh, God… yes, Sir.”

The noise of Christie’s punishment had waned, both men returning their attention to the stage, though neither one stopped the fondling of Lacey’s charms.

William stood with his broad back to the audience, his arms folded, looking down at a pair of buttocks now streaked with thin red lines, the sound of soft weeping drifting up to them, intermingling with Lacey’s increasingly labored breathing.

“Have you learned your lesson, Christie?” William’s voice boomed crisp and clear.

“Yes, I’m”—Christie choked down a sob—”I’m sorry for… disappointing you.”

William set the cane down, leaning it against a leg of the bench. He stroked a gentle palm over her bottom. “You didn’t disappoint me, Christie. You scared me. You’re my wife.” He squeezed one buttock firmly, Christie yelping. “You’re
mine.
And I love you. I don’t want to have to do this again.”

“No, Sir,” she said, dissolving into soft crying once more.

The crowd, in rapt, aroused silence, watched William untie the straps, helping his wife up from the bench. He hugged her tight for one moment, the crowd murmuring, then he did something Hunter least expected.

Rather than lead her from the stage, William took her by the hand and drew her to the back, toward the rear corner, immediately behind where Keenan stood at the lectern. Her husband whispering something in her ear, she nodded, looking down and wiping her eyes. As William took a step away, watching her, she turned her back toward the audience, and parted the folds of her skirt, revealing the now angry wheals streaking the once smooth, pale buttocks. William stepped close again, adjusting the way she held the skirt, revealing her bottom fully to everyone. Her back hitched with silent sobs then, but she didn’t resist, her pert cheeks on shameful — and in Hunter’s case, cock hardening — display.

Apparently satisfied, William gathered up his coat, laying the cane atop the lectern as he passed by, exchanging a knowing grin with Keenan before bounding back down the stairs, his steps as light as a feather.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hunter muttered, kneading Lacey’s soft breast again, even as he marveled at what he’d seen below. She leaned her head close to him, nuzzling his temple, a wordless sound slipping from her lips.

“They are pretty great, aren’t they?” Troy winked, then raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Oh you meant the show. Yes…”

“Asshole.”

Lacey giggled then, and Hunter knew at that moment that he’d do almost anything to hear that lovely, sweet sound again and again.

Whoa. Getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?

Keenan cleared his throat, flicking a conspiratorial glance at the crowd. “Danae Brooks, step forward.”

The athletic blonde with the strong shoulders reluctantly responded, her feet positively dragging on the floorboards, her head still bowed.

“I haven’t seen something like this in a while,” Keenan said. He paused, scratching his temple. “You’ve been brought up here on a charge of conjugal refusal. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Hunter whispered, his hand still full of Lacey. “We in a fucking prison movie here, or what?”

Troy snorted, choking down his laugh. “No — but they’d have a lot of fans of such a movie here, let me tell you. No, that’s one of the terms they like to use for refusing to do something sexually that the husband wants.”

Danae touched her hair, her fingers visibly trembling as she looked over at Keenan. “I… I just couldn’t do it. He’s…”

“He’s what, Danae?” Keenan laid a palm on the lectern.

“Oh Jesus,” Lacey whispered.

“What?” Troy rolled her nipple between finger and thumb. “Spill it, bad girl.”

“She… Danae mentioned something at… the gym. About Davis. Oh God, please…”

Troy grinned. “I think I can guess.”

“My husband… Davis.” Danae looked down again, then took a deep breath. “Please don’t make me say it…”

“You
will
say it, Ms. Brooks,” Keenan said, an edge creeping into his smooth voice. “And you will say it so the Session may hear it.”

“He…” Her voice went into a pained whisper. “Wanted… anal sex.”

Soft laughter and murmured voices rose from the crowd.

Keenan held up a hand, looking to Danae again. “And?”

“And I refused him. Twice.”

A gasp could be heard from someone in the crowd, the absurdity of it so over the top, Hunter had to cover his mouth. Troy had to actually bite his hand to keep from laughing. Lacey tried to lower her tank top ever so slightly, but a warning grunt from her husband had her hiking it up once more, proving his attention was still very much focused on his wife.

Troy leaned close, holding his hand to his lips to muffle his words. “Davis is hung like a fucking draft horse. I don’t blame her for saying no. I just can’t believe they’ve been married”—he looked at Lacey—-”what? A year?”

“It’ll be eighteen months, next week.” Lacey said.

“Christ,” Troy said. “A year and a
half
? And she’s never given it up to him?”

Hunter was still trying to process the idea that such a thing would be discussed in what was essentially a public venue — with an audience. How she didn’t simply burst into flames from the mortification, he’d never know. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was how much this aroused him, how much pleasure he took in the attractive blonde’s embarrassment.

How much he looked forward to seeing her bottom bared for the lash as well.

You’re going to hell.

And apparently he’d have a whole town full of company along with him.

“Do you dispute this charge, Ms. Brooks?”

“No… Sir.”

Keenan turned to the gallery, extending his arm toward the woman. “You’ve heard the charge. What verdict does the Session render?”

This was the part Hunter was actually most interested in seeing in action — and the part that seemed the most fantastical. A room full of residents, some of them perhaps strangers — even anonymous — sitting there in the dark provided by the harsh lights shining down upon the stage, and rendering judgment for a woman’s misdeeds.

Hunter just never dreamed judgment would need to be rendered for something so… intimate.

You mean more intimate than having your best friend’s wife suck your cock in broad daylight while friends and neighbors look on?

That he was slipping so easily into the seductive — and lurid — mindset of the town should have troubled Hunter, and perhaps at one time it would have. But more than anything, the longer he stayed in this place, the more….comforting it was. He wasn’t alone. A man of his sort was no aberration, and certainly no monster.

Nor a freak.

This time, the thought of those words felt different. Since that day he’d first heard them, recalling the sound of the words as they’d poured from Sara’s mouth hurt him. Every single time. But now? They were just that — words. He realized then that her fleeing from him was the best thing that ever happened to him, for it had freed him. Allowed him to finally figure out who the fuck he wanted to be, what he wanted from life. Ironically, his ex-wife’s cruel rejection of him had opened a door within Hunter he never had the courage to admit even existed.

He stroked Lacey’s hair, and she leaned into his touch, even as she kept her breasts bared for his possessive grip.

Yes, Sarah had shown him that door, no matter how much she hurt him in the process. Now, all he had to do was walk through it.

“Why did she refuse him?” a very deep male voice asked from somewhere far below them, near the base of the platform.

Keenan fixed Danae with a glare. “Well?”

She blanched, wringing her fingers in her hands. “He’s… too big.”

More murmuring rippled through the crowd then.

“Has he trained your bottom?” Another male voice said, somewhere off to their left. “Stretched you? Even the biggest cock will fit, with enough patience.”

Hunter had to pinch himself to confirm this was really happening. Of all the things he’d ever thought would occur in his life, listening to a crowd of strangers discuss the vagaries of anal intercourse in an auditorium gallery was only slightly less likely than being abducted by aliens.

“No…sir.” Danae held her hands to her face then, and the murmurs grew louder.

Keenan scanned the crowd then. “What is the verdict of the Session? Her husband has requested judgment of the Session. All who vote that Danae Brooks be punished for conjugal refusal, say ‘aye.’”

Fewer replied than Hunter would’ve expected.

“All who vote Danae Brooks be excused from punishment say ‘nay.’”

Male voices rang out, much louder this time, and Danae dropped her hands, her eyes as big as dinner plates, disbelief in her tear-filled gaze.

Keenan waited for the crowd to settle, then nodded toward someone in the gallery. “Davis, take her home. You have failed in your duty as her husband to properly prepare your wife for her conjugal duties. She’s yours, but she cannot please you, if you do not show her
how
.” Keenan looked over at Danae. “You’re excused, Ms. Brooks. But if your husband finds reason to put you up again for outright defiance, the Session will not be so lenient with you.”

Keenan licked his fingertip, and flipped a page on the lectern, as Danae exited the stage, a visibly embarrassed Davis taking her hand and leading her from the auditorium.