Maintenance Night (6 page)

“Yes, Sir.” she blurted, wincing. Her bottom felt like she’d sat on hot coals, his smack just fanning the flames higher.

“Good.”

She froze as he brought the strip of cloth over her eyes. “Troy — what are you doing?”

“Quiet!” He slapped a broad palm on the side of her thigh, and she yelped. He cinched the cloth tight at the back of her head. Other than a thin strip of light at the very bottom of her field of view, she couldn’t see a thing. His fingers entwined in her hair, pulling her head back roughly. “Unless you’re giving me the word, or answering a direct question, you keep your mouth shut, girl.”

She almost said it; it was on her lips. This was farther than they’d taken this ever before. This was more than just a spanking.

She nodded as best she could against his tight hold on her hair.

“That’s better.” He released her hair with a short, sharp shake.

She didn’t know what to do. This was a different Troy — a crueler, colder Troy. She knew that in any other situation she’d be incensed. She should be incensed. So why was her clit thrumming, her pussy soaked?

She felt cold leather wrap about her ankles, and reflexively moved her foot, but quickly moved it back at his warning rumble.

Lacey pulled at the cuffs, the noise of a chain confirming they were linked closely together. What the hell was he doing? The cuffs made it virtually impossible for her to walk.

She looked down, hoping to get a glimpse of what he was doing, but the blindfold was frustratingly effective. Manacles were back at her wrists once more, and he cinched them tighter this time. He grabbed her by the hair again, pulling her up onto her toes. He turned her toward the far corner of the room, the place she dreaded most. Even blindfolded, she knew what awaited her there.

The bench.

Troy dragged her over to it, Lacey stumbling against the tight hobble, the painful grip of his hand in her long hair keeping her from toppling over. Her thighs pressed against the padded bench, the coldness of the leather making her nipples harden into stones. His hand pressed at her upper back.

She stood ramrod straight. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breathing increasingly labored. He’d only ever used the bench for spanking or caning her — and he’d already given her a taste of both.

He pushed harder, his guttural growl so low-pitched she felt more than heard it. She tried to still her body, but her trembling got worse by the second. She’d fantasized about having her limits pushed, flirting with force. Faced with the reality of it however, she wasn’t sure she could do it. She knew Troy would never hurt her, not really.

But what if she wanted him to?

Though his steel hard fingers bit into the flesh of her shoulder, his other hand touched her cheek. Just a whisper of sensation, so slight she wasn’t sure it had been him. But it was enough. He was there with her, taking the journey with her. He’d protect her. Her love.

She relaxed just the slightest bit, the signal he needed. He pulled at her hair, hard, twisting her head as he hauled her down to the inclined plane of the bench sloping away toward the floor. The position left her legs straight, the angle laying everything open to his gaze, the soft petals of her cunt yawning open, surrendered to her husband’s lust. Her bottom hole clenched as he ran a finger down between her spread cheeks, emphasizing her vulnerability and her obscene exposure.

Lacey closed her eyes, despite the blindfold, and laid her cheek on the leather.

One minute, one second, one moment, Lacey. You can do this. You want this. You always have.

She felt heavy leather pass over the back of her lower legs, just above her bound ankles. Another strap, cinched brutally tight over her hamstrings, pinned her upper legs to the bench. She’d seen the straps hanging loosely from the apparatus, lazily waiting, like venomous snakes, anticipating the embrace of their victim. She wasn’t going anywhere now.

His palm caressed the roughened, inflamed skin of her buttocks, squeezing the weight of her flesh in his hand. The strap over her thighs galled one of the still raw tramlines from the cane. Her unconscious wiggling of her legs against the implacable grip of the straps didn’t help matters, so she willed herself to stop it. The trembling of her body was another issue entirely.

She felt him move to the front of the bench, where her head lay low toward the floor, her long hair no doubt a black river pooling on the carpet. He lifted the remainder of her hair from her neck, and cold, stiff leather clasped her there too.

Dear God, a collar?

She jerked her head, not even thinking, and his hand twisted in her hair until she stilled, wincing, her scalp burning at the brutal stricture. She felt a tear slip under the cloth of the blindfold, to run crazily across the bridge of her nose. Absurdly, she wished her hands were free so that she could swipe the shaming tear away.

The collar tightened just a little, exerting a steady pressure on her throat, but not enough to constrict blood flow or breathing. He slipped fingers under the snug leather to ensure it. The feeling of the confinement of her neck was unlike anything she’d ever felt. She knew she was blushing to the roots of her hair, connecting the collar to that of a dog, an owned thing. Though it shamed her, it fired her lust anew. He was staking claim again, taking her to a new place. She never thought bondage would be something that could cause such a powerful reaction in her. Her drenched, seething cunt told her there were new horizons she still could explore. As Troy cinched down the collar with more straps, tying her fast to the bench, it was apparent he was intent on exploring them with her — whether she was ready or not.

She tried to move something, anything. All she could muster was the continuous, frenetic writhing of her fingers, the curling of her toes. His fingers played through the swollen labia, gathering the moisture there, a desultory, teasing play of fingertips across her achingly hard clit.

Then she felt the cold slipperiness against her asshole. She stiffened, the wood of the bench groaning.

He can’t be. Oh God, he can’t be doing this.

His fingers spread her cheeks wide, and she was mortified anew at the view he was no doubt enjoying. The heels of his hands pressed her wider still, as if he would split her bottom in half, the stretching at her cleft almost uncomfortable. His thick finger liberally coated in cool gel, eased against her bottom hole, insistent but gentle.

“Just try to relax. We’ll go slowly. You need to be stretched first.”

“Troy, I don’t know—“

“It’s not up to you. Unless you’re giving me the word, this is happening.” His voice lowered. “Are you?”

“No, it’s just… I don’t think I can.”

His hand smacked her bottom lightly, leaving a slick of gel on a stinging cheek. “You can, and you will. I’ll help you through it, Lace. But before this night is over, you’re going to have my cock in your ass. Now be a good girl and cooperate.”

She nodded her head. “Yes, Sir. I’m scared.”

“I know, Lacey.”

She whimpered as he slathered more cold gel into her cleft, swirling it upon the tender entrance to her ass. His finger pressed against her once more.” Let me in, girl.”

Lacey grunted, his finger a rhythmic pressure at her ass, increasing then lessening as he worked her. He lubricated again, the tip of his finger back at her stroking her bottom hole, coaxing, relaxing. “Push out now”

“What do you mean?”

“Watch yourself, Lace.” The tip of his finger insinuated itself into her bottom hole, and she clamped down upon it. “No, don’t clench. Bear down, like you’re going to the bathroom.”

“What?”

His big hand slapped her ass again, her flesh wobbling. “Just do it. You have to let me in. Bear down, now.”

She whined, the feeling of pushing out seeming so wrong, her need to obey her husband seeming so right.

“That’s it! Good girl.” She warmed at his praise, even as he pushed his finger deeper, awakening uncomfortable sensation within her ass. Her tight hole burned, stretched around his thick digit, and she panted at the pain.

“There we go. Keep pushing, girl. This is just my finger — my cock is a lot bigger than this.” He pressed his lips to her ass cheek, his kiss soft, almost reverent. She concentrated on loosening everything. The pain was there, but if she unclenched, stopped fighting, it lessened. Her empty pussy ached, bereft, her hard clit thrumming.

His hand drifted fingertips between the lips of her pussy, collecting the moisture, wiping it in lazy circles around her clit. “I guess I shouldn’t have worried about you being too scared,” he murmured, rich pleasure in his voice. She sighed as he frictioned her hard clit more intently, tweaking the sensitive flesh.

She let out a long whine as he pressed into her again, working his big finger in and out, thrusting with more authority. He pressed it as deep as it would go, his hard knuckles against the inner curves of her ass cheeks, the strange sensation of his fingertip wiggling within her, seemingly at the very core of her being. He recharged his finger several times with the cold gel, penetrating her anew, until she’d relaxed enough that each entrance was relatively easy, if still uncomfortable.

“I think we’re ready,” he said, wiping his finger on the back of her thigh, awakening the pain of the marks there once more. His palm patted the plump, smooth lips of her pussy. “I was only going to do this one time as part of your punishment.” He thrust two thick fingers deep into her pussy, thrusting roughly for a few seconds. “Judging by this dripping cunt of yours though, we may need to make this a regular feature, Lacey-girl.”

“No! Please Troy, no.”

The uncoiling deep in her belly gave lie to her words.

“It’s not up to you, girl.” He leaned over, brushing his lips against her cheek, nudging the cloth of her blindfold. “Lets see how you do tonight, hmm?”

His hands took firm hold of her hips, squeezing her flesh in his possessive grip. The heavy cock eased up and down between her trembling cheeks, pausing to circle the cold slipperiness onto her cringing asshole. Her heart pounded in her chest, every muscle in her body tensing. They’d talked about trying it a few times, but it hadn’t been anything serious. She never thought he was particularly interested in taking her there, and she’d never really entertained the idea. She was a comparatively slight woman — and he was a big man. She wasn’t sure it would even be physically possible.

He pressed the broad head against her bottom hole, and she yelped. Oh, he was serious after all.

Oh fuck! Oh fuck!

She clenched against him, running on pure instinct now. She would fight him every step of the way, even though she knew it would make it worse.

He continued the pressure, easing back a tiny bit, only to press forward once more, his cock never leaving contact with her anus. His fingers wiped more cool gel around her ass, over his cock. She knew she couldn’t do it. She wanted him to reassure her, tell her he was just playing around. She hoped he’d relent, and slip inside her empty pussy instead. But it was not to be.

He was relentless, easing back and forth, pressed relentlessly against her ass. “Relax your bottom, Lacey. Come on now.” Every time her cheeks squeezed around the big head of his cock, he smacked her ass, growling at her. She tried to relax, hoping he would relent, but still he kept at her.

Then he stroked her, gently, solicitously, as if she were a fractious animal in need of calming. She jerked against her straps once more and his palm came down hard on her ass, fire flaring across her flesh as she bit down on a scream.

It was just enough of a distraction, and his cock slipped in, just through the entrance. He felt huge, and it hurt as she expected, but what surprised her most was the uncomfortable fullness. He stroked her hips, patting her sore bottom, and eased his hips further forward.

She grunted, her teeth locked over her bottom lip. Now it really hurt; a stretching burn along with a disturbing undercurrent of the forbidden sensation of his big cock stimulating the tissues inside her ass. The feeling was alien, yet all too intimately familiar. The tight ring of her anus stretched taut over his thick shaft as he eased deeper, his hands stroking her back and hips so gently. Then with a pleased sigh he was seated fully.

She shook like a landed fish, her core frozen, and feeling staked upon Troy’s thick cock. She jerked her hips once, the burn flaring as she reflexively clenched down upon him, crying out at the pain. His groan was unexpectedly welcome. She wanted to hear him, even if it was just to scold her, tell her what a bad girl she’d been. Anything was better than his cold silence. His hand was at her clit again, rubbing it in harsh circles as he pulled nearly all of the way out of her. He squeezed her aching clit as he eased forward once more, driving deep. She gave a ragged, high-pitched moan as he filled her fully once more.

The tears flowed freely as the burn intensified at his thrusting. He built her up to a steady, deep plunge and retreat, the helplessness of being tied immobile as he drove within her nearly making her scream.

He slipped two fingers deep into her slit as he thrust hard again, and she cried out once more — the forbidden on top of the exquisite. He alternated fingering her drowning, lonely pussy with deft flicks and strokes to her swollen clit. All the while, his heavy cock reamed her, the burn giving way to the steady, confusing sensation of needing to empty her bowels. It disturbed her greatly to have such a familiar sensation warring with the soaring, forbidden pleasure.