The Spanked Wives Club (16 page)

Biting her tongue to suppress her pained groan, Lacey grabbed Troy’s wrist as his strong hand squeezed her left breast past the point of pain. As her breath whistled between her teeth, he did it again.

“You know what?” Troy leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “I think you’re a little too free with those hands, bad girl. So I want you to pull that tank top down under your tits, then put your hands behind your back.”

“Troy, please. I’m sorry—”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her nipple throbbing angrily as he pinched it yet again. It felt swollen to twice its size already, and she had no doubt he was far from finished with molesting her poor breasts.

“Quiet, Lacey.”

She pulled down the left side, then he batted her hands away, lowering the right side until her breasts thrust obscenely forward, the stretched fabric of her top like a sling beneath the globes, supporting and lifting them, as if presenting themselves for whatever her loving but cruel husband — and his surprisingly enthusiastic friend — decided to do to them.

“There, that’s better, girl.” Hunter tapped her shoulder. “Now. Behind your back. That’s right. All the way down between the seat back. There you go.” He slapped the underside of her breast gently, making it bounce. “You’re a good girl, when you decide to be.”

“Christ,” Hunter muttered next to her. Though she tried to keep her eyes straight ahead as she knew Troy would expect, she could still see the way Hunter stared down at her proffered breasts, her clit stirring under the firm press of his palm as he continued to plunder her sex with his thick, questing fingers.

The wetness of her pussy mortified her almost as much as her public exposure, her moisture running freely down her perineum, no doubt staining the cushions below her by now. She only prayed Troy wouldn’t notice it — lest he have her back here on another day, making her take to her knees to scrub the shameful residue of her lust from the upholstery.

Hunter’s other hand took hold of her right breast then, and she moaned, his gentler touch so different from the cruel grip of her husband’s. She knew though that she needed both — the harshness
and
the tenderness. Perhaps that need spoke to something deeper within her, something she’d known she’d needed all along, yet hadn’t had the courage to hope for? Time would tell, but now, she
did
have that hope, though she still wasn’t sure she’d be able to fully articulate the hows and whys of it. Or even if she needed to.

Like so much in her exciting marriage to Troy, it just
was
.

She’d never suspected the true possibilities of what might lay ahead until this morning though. And as she sat there, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth, trying to stave off coming like a wanton whore in the grip of these mens’ deviously effective hands, she looked forward to what might be, placing her trust once more in Troy — and in Hunter — that whatever happened, would be right.

And even if it wasn’t, she knew they’d be able to figure it out.

Together? You’re getting way, way ahead of yourself. Just stop.

“Why don’t you tell us the real reason you’re here, Ms. Strickland?” The voice was a new one, cultured, rich, with a not quite submerged accent she couldn’t quite place. “If you make us go through this charade, we might be forced to render judgment solely on the basis of you wasting our time.”

The voice paused as Cori swallowed, the woman licking her lips as if trying to combat the huge case of dry mouth Lacey knew for a fact was common for any of the victims unlucky enough to stand before a Session.

Lacey’s own first time being called up to account before one of the Sessions — though admittedly one of the smaller, informal ones — was seared into her memory, as indelible as the memory of her first lover — yet something far more sexual, dark, lurid, and frightening.

Cori finally spoke. “I… I don’t think he’s always… right. About things.”

Keenan coughed at that, holding his fist to his mouth as murmuring rippled through the crowd in reaction. Then he held up a hand, the throng growing silent.

“The Session does not expect a wife to follow her husband blindly. That is not healthy, nor what the covenant of White Valley is about at all — but you are to voice any objection with respect, deference, and humility. If I were to ask your husband, would you say he’d confirm you displayed
any
of those qualities, let alone all three?”

For the first time, Cori appeared to stumble, her glance shifting to her husband, and for one instant, Lacey saw what she’d felt herself, standing before her own lord and Master.

Guilt.

“No…”

Cori knew she’d failed Lee, though Lacey suspected the woman’s pride prevented her from verbalizing it — yet.

Lacey had little doubt that before this morning’s session had concluded, Cori Strickland would be singing a decidedly different tune indeed. There was no room for pride when hauled in front of a Session.

Lee made his way over to his wife, pacing behind her, his gaze intent, Cori looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes following him as best they could.

“What say you, Session?” Keenan strode back to the lectern, professorial once more. “All who vote for punishment for failure to obey her husband in all things? For defiance of his wishes? All in favor, say ‘aye.’”

The space boomed with those deep male voices again, Lacey jerking, startled and turned on all at once by the sound.

“Proceed, Mr. Strickland,” Keenan said with a solemn nod. She was sure every cock and clit in the room was at attention now, anticipating what was about to happen.

Hunter withdrew his fingers from Lacey’s sex then, as she watched Lee unbutton his wife’s blouse. Troy slipped his hand between her legs, cupping the heat of her swollen, throbbing pussy in his palm, patting it gently, possessively.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Troy said, his voice low and strained. Lacey longed to reach over and mold a hand over the prominent bulge of his genitals, part of her pleased that she wasn’t the only one suffering the torment of denial at the erotic spectacle before them.

Lee drew the white blouse over Cori’s shoulders, then down her arms, his wife already blushing brightly.

“So who won our little wager then?” Troy’s finger traced the soft, wet seam of her labia, circling her clit once, twice, a third time, making Lacey swallow down another moan.

God, I can’t…

“I don’t think Keenan really said either way, did he?” Hunter’s voice was thick as he wiped his fingers off on Lacey’s thigh, the scent of her copious arousal wafting up into her nostrils, mortification at her wanton lust heating her cheeks yet again.

A low whistle was heard as Lee unsnapped the plain black bra, Cori’s large, soft breasts spilling forth. Lee whispered something to her, and she slowly drew her hands up, placing them behind her head, her gaze downcast as she blushed positively crimson, a smattering of applause sounding from the gallery. Lacey, despite being well endowed herself, felt a spark of envy at such breasts.

Though perhaps slightly lower on Cori’s chest than they might have once been, they were still magnificent, the nipples prominent and wine dark, despite Cori’s very fair complexion. Lee circled his wife once, reaching out to test the weight of one of those breasts, saying something to his wife that only they could hear, Cori shaking her head quickly. He moved back behind her, and stooped down. The long skirt fell like the curtain of the opening scene of a play, applause breaking out at the naked sex revealed, the reddish pubic hair rich and thick between lush yet firm thighs. Lee stroked a hand down Cori’s rounded belly, making sure she knew the audience could see it. Dressed now in only her heels, he led the mature beauty by the elbow back toward the cross, her hands still laced behind her head, her breasts swaying as she walked, the sound of the heels on the stage floor just audible above the low murmurs of the onlookers.

Troy bit Lacey’s earlobe gently, his breath hot against her skin, his voice gravelly. “Someday, we’re going to have you up there again. And I’ll put you to the cross just like her. That crowd will get to hear your cries, see your tears, watch the bounce of these big tits. We’ll see how red we can make that bottom of yours.” Troy’s gaze switched to the silently watching Hunter, then back to her, his glittering stare pinning her to her seat. “Maybe we won’t have to wait? Maybe you’d cry and plead just fine for an audience of two. An audience with no interest in showing their bad girl any mercy whatsoever.”

“Oh my God,” Lacey breathed, Troy squeezing her mound firmly.

“I think it’s a draw,” Hunter said, and they both looked over at him.

“What?” Troy traced a finger along Lacey’s lower lip, letting her kiss just the tip.

“I mean — it’s a tie,” Hunter said, a sly smile curving his lips. “The wager. Neither one of us won it.”

“And ties go to the house,” Troy said, planting a quick kiss on Lacey’s trembling lips.

Lee had just affixed the last cuff at the top of the cross, Cori’s arms held high and out, in line with the upper arms of X. Her husband, a large bulge now at the crotch of his slacks, moved around behind her, drawing her back by the hips, until she was bent somewhat at the waist, her broad, pale bottom thrust out behind her. Lee urged her legs closed as he knelt and shackled her ankles with their own thick leather cuffs, her heels neatly together, emphasizing the pleasing line of her smooth legs, the dramatic curves of her hips, and the generous luxurious weight of her buttocks.

“S-so what happens when the… tie goes to the house?” Lacey said, her nipples drawing so tight they ached anew, despite the warmth of the gallery.

Please God, let it happen. Just once, is all I ask.

But Lacey still had no idea what she was really asking for.

Lee, a broad black leather belt dangling from a tanned, veined hand, stood with legs spread behind his bound and presented wife. Her profile was three quarters to the crowd, revealing hanging breasts swinging slowly beneath her, her bun long since drawn apart by Lee’s possessive fingers, the mass of her auburn hair wild upon her back, long locks waving toward the floor boards, highlighting both her beauty and the utter lack of control she had over anything that was about to happen to her in this place.

The first lash fell across Cori’s great white bottom as the crowd audibly sighed. A hand gripped Lacey’s left thigh, the strength of it making her catch her breath, an even stronger grip capturing her right leg, both men staring at her now.

“What does the house say?” Hunter said, his voice now more a vibration than a whisper, the sound alone causing a delicious stirring deep in Lacey’s belly.

Troy’s glittering gaze caught Lacey’s, holding it for a long moment, his jaw clenching. “The house says… it’s way past time to go back home.”

The last thing Lacey saw as the two gruff, extremely aroused men urged her before them up the aisle, was the swing of Lee’s hand, two broad, pink swathes already emblazoned across his wife’s alabaster flesh.

Chapter Ten

H
unter trailed behind them as Troy marched Lacey up the front walkway to their door, his hand clamped around her elbow like a child who’d gotten themselves into serious trouble. Her breasts, in the ridiculously thin fabric of the tank top, bounced and wobbled as she tried to keep up with him in her high heels. She didn’t speak a word as Troy dragged her inside, practically frog-marching her to the living room without so much as a sound.

It was just past noon, and Troy peeked through the blinds at the overcast sky outside, lines of gray light falling upon his face, the glittering intensity of his eyes catching and reflecting the illumination. Lacey stood in the middle of the living room, where Troy had left her. She wrung her hands, her long dark hair still up in the clips she’d worn to the Session. Hunter leaned against one arm of the expansive black leather of the sofa, watching them both, still not knowing what to expect. His cock, painfully constricted in his jeans, was practically begging for release.

Staring at the hard points of Lacey’s nipples, perfectly outlined under the white cotton, wasn’t helping that problem any either.

Finally, Troy turned away from the window, circling Lacey like a predator might its helpless victim, deciding how to ultimately dispatch the unfortunate prey.

“Lacey girl, you need to understand one thing,” Troy’s deep voice said, almost a snarl. “You’re
mine
. Do you understand that?”

She looked upon him, her face suddenly pale, but didn’t say anything.

“Answer me!” He spun on her, standing within inches of her, his lips brushing her temple, rubbing a stray lock of her hair between his fingers, as if to impart his ownership down to the most elemental part of her body.

“Y-Yes, Master. Of course.”

Troy was still for a moment, the air humming with tension, then he turned toward Hunter, fixing him with his hard gaze, all trace of mirth erased from his best friend’s features. But rather than address him, Troy merely stared, and at that moment, Hunter truly questioned just what the fuck he thought he was doing here.

This was never going to work. A door that couldn’t — and shouldn’t — be opened.