The Spanked Wives Club (8 page)

“Because… you ordered it, Master.”

“And what else? A special reason, yes?”

Celina sneaked a glance over her shoulder, her face beet red, the fall of her hair partially covering her face. Then her gaze fell upon Hunter.

“To… demonstrate. For him, Master.”

“Who is that?” Von tapped his wife low on the outside of one thigh, and she bit off a startled yelp.

“Hunter… Master.” Celina held Hunter’s eyes for only an instant, then she looked down once more, her head wreathed in her thick, dark locks.

Troy strode up to Lacey, and smacked her right buttock, sending the flesh bounding. “And what about you? Why are you here?”

“So that I’ll know… who I belong to.”

Her bottom wiggled and Troy pinched one of her buttocks between thumb and forefinger, stilling her. “And what else, Lacey girl? You’re not finished.”

There was a long pause, Celina and Von both watching in rapt silence, right along with Hunter.

“Please don’t make me say it,” Lacey whispered against her arm.

“We’re waiting, girl. Out with it.”

Lacey choked down a whimper, then turned her head a little, so that she could be heard. “I… this was… my idea. Master.”

Holy shit.

Troy, still pinching Lacey’s bottom, looked back at him, grinning ear to ear. “It was. She wanted to have you here while I prepped her for this weekend. You’ll see why in a few minutes.”

Lacey made a horrified sound, burying her face in her arms. “But…”

“Speak up, bad girl,” Troy snapped, though the tone of his voice was more fond than angry.

“Not… like this.”

Troy laughed, finally releasing her bottom cheek from his harsh grip, patting it as one would pat the flank of a horse. “She
is
right about that. Once she had the courage to ask it, I agreed to it — but on two conditions: Celina and Von would join us, and they’d have to do this out here.”

“Why?” Hunter wasn’t even sure why he asked it, perhaps to distract himself from a mind reeling with a thousand other questions. Perhaps to distract him from wanting more than anything to take Troy’s place, to lay his hand once more on the soft perfection of Lacey’s bottom.

“Why?” Troy asked, an eyebrow raising above the lens of his glasses. “Because I can — and because deep down, I know Lacey likes it. She likes being off balance, likes not knowing what I’ll put her through next. Isn’t that right, Lacey girl?”

“Yes, Master,” she said, her voice strained.

It wasn’t until that moment that Hunter had the strength to admit the truth of it though. He’d missed her since that night last winter. He’d missed… Lacey.

As if you have any right to miss her. This is a road you cannot travel, Hunt.

Of course, he knew the truth of that. Maybe it was just this place? The sense of low level lust he’d felt almost continuously since stepping foot here, the vibe of frank, blatant sexuality that he could no longer deny ran strong through this place. Yes, that had be it.

Her idea…

Hunter shook his head. This wasn’t the time to unpack all of the meaning in what he’d just heard. Right now, he needed to just… not think so much.

“When Troy floated the idea, I knew it would be perfect for getting my Celina into the right frame of mind for her Walk,” Von said, tapping the insides of his wife’s thighs, urging them wider. He stepped back, staring at the now wet pussy the widespread thighs blatantly exposed. He looked over at Troy, then at Hunter. “That we get to sort of throw you into the deep end in the process was just a bonus.”

“I’d say you succeeded,” Hunter said, wiping a hand over his mouth, wishing there was a way to hide the blatant bulge his erection was forming in his jeans. Somehow, the fact that both Troy and Von also obviously suffered similar discomfiture didn’t help him feel any better.

“Oh, we’re not done,” Von said. He flipped the crop around, grasping it by the shaft, extending the handle toward Hunter. “Take this.”

“And… do what?”

“I want you to whip Celina’s thighs with it. Not too hard, but enough to get her attention.”

Just go with this, Hunter.

Von’s wife gasped, straightening and turning partially toward her husband, her arm over her breasts, eyes wide, color high in her cheeks. “You said no discipline! For… for Saturday.”

It took a single step for the tall man to reach his wife. Von grasped the arm wrapped around her chest, and yanked it down, her breasts bouncing back into view, those coral nipples of hers achingly tight. They looked inflamed, more swollen than they’d appeared that first night when Hunter had watched Von spank her.

“You know better than to cover up, Celina.” He spun her around so fast she stumbled an instant, then he made her bend over once more, pressing her head down to her folded arms atop the railing. “If you’re smart, you won’t move a muscle. If you do that again, you’ll regret it. Now, did I say anything about him whipping your round little ass, no matter how much you deserve it? No. The Council says nothing about the thighs, do they? So you’re getting a little taste of the crop today.” He extended a hand toward Hunter. “Go ahead. A nice firm stroke to start.”

Hunter laid the thin dark crop across the lush thighs, high up at Von’s urging. Celina clenched her thighs as Hunter pulled back, snapping the shaft of the implement against her flesh, a white line springing up on her tanned skin.

“Good one.” Von waved a finger toward his wife. “Again. Harder this time, lower now.”

Hunter pressed the crop to her legs again, just above her knees, warming to the task. The crop struck home against her flesh, and Celina hissed.

“More like that?” Hunter asked. He pointed the implement toward Von, not sure if he really wanted to relinquish it. Two lines, the upper one a darkening red, stretched across Celina’s tender thighs.

Von shook his head. “Ten more. Between those two marks. You do it right, and she’s going to remember you every time she sits down for the next few days.”

You can do this, dude.

Laying down ten strokes of the crop across a woman’s thighs was far easier than it should have been for a man who’d never actually held a crop before in his life. By the last few, Celina cried out, her leg raising up in a reflexive bid to protect her martyred flesh. A rumbled threat of another ten from her hovering husband put an end to that, Hunter grinning despite himself. He envied the dynamic the two had — Von ordered, and Celina obeyed. In all things. Could he have the same someday? Would there be a woman ready to embrace the darkness within him — and a woman ready to let him bring out the darkness in her?

Someday.

Surprised at the reluctance he felt to hand over the crop, he laid the implement in Von’s outstretched palm, the man’s deep blue eyes evaluating, calculating. Then he grinned.

“A natural.”

Celina groaned then, Von dropping to a knee behind her, his long fingers tracing the thick reddening welts laddered across both of her thighs. A frantic whimper escaped Celina’s lips as her husband squeezed a welt.

“You do good work, Hunter. Already swelling nicely. Good pattern too.”

“I
told
you, Von.” Troy said from behind Hunter, mirth in his voice. “You should’ve seen him with Lacey last Christmas. In fact”—Troy stroked the rounded hip of his wife, nodding at Hunter, a predatory gleam in the man’s eye—”let’s show him right now.”

* * *

T
hat Hunter now stood on a sun-splashed deck, a naked woman bent over in front of him, awaiting her sentence, felt several galaxies past surreal. That didn’t mean he didn’t love every fucking second of it though.

It seemed his entire awareness was dominated by the alluring sight of round, pale buttocks, Lacey’s darkened eyes, her frightened — and yet, lust-filled — gaze as she chanced a look back at her guest tormentor.

“Let’s start off with a spanking for my girl,” Troy said, patting her hip. “You remember how Hunter spanks, don’t you?”

“
Start?”

“Is there a problem with that, Lacey?” Troy asked, a new hint of steel to his voice. Hunter knew his friend was the kind of man who sought compliance in his woman in the bedroom — and he’d have nothing else.

“No… I’m sorry.”

Hunter could almost hear her hard swallow.

“Good.” Troy dropped his gaze, as if talking directly to the generous curves of Lacey’s plump bottom. “You’ll obey any command he gives you.”

“Yes, Master.”

Troy’s big hand squeezed one of Lacey’s buttocks, his fingertips sinking deep into the rich flesh. “You’re to address him as ‘Sir.’ Understand me?”

“Yes, Master.” Her voice had grown quieter with each command, as if she were readying herself, resigned to what was about to come.

Hunter’s cock was at full mast now, just at the soft, meek sound of her words. He remembered that night too well, her cries, her pleading, her tears. The wetness of a pussy he wanted more than anything to touch, to soothe — to plunder. He remembered the sweetness of holding her afterward, as she wept.

Most of all he remembered his deep gratitude.

They’d shared a part of themselves that couldn’t be more intimate. And they’d done it simply to help him feel better, simply because they were his friends.

And now you’re going to do this again. Some days, it’s good to be Hunter.

Troy raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a subtle nod toward his wife. Permission.

“You know what to do, my friend,” he said, squeezing Hunter’s shoulder, then stepping back.

Now all of Hunter’s vision was that glorious broad bottom, Lacey’s temporary surrender laid bare for all the world to see.

She was his — for the next few minutes anyway.

He was vaguely aware of Celina being drawn to the side, the whispered tones of Von warning her she wasn’t to look away, that he wanted her to watch this.

God
, did Hunter want to do this.

He stepped closer, reaching out and touching her bottom, smoothing his palm over her skin, feeling the trembling of her muscles. The soft vulnerability of her flesh, of her position, only fired his lust higher, summoning the ancient predator, the instinctive hunter and conqueror he believed lurked deep within every man.

He stroked and massaged each curve and line of both buttocks, squeezing them in his palms, drawing a sigh from her as his fingers quested lower with each pass across her skin, until upon his fingertips, he could feel the humid heat of her arousal, a mere whisper from his touch. But it wasn’t time for that.

Not quite.

Drawing back his hand, he slapped her bottom as if swatting a fly, delighting in the way her flesh moved, the jiggle and shudder of the soft cheeks.

“Good girl, Lacey,” Troy said from somewhere behind him. “You keep them nice and soft for him. Let him see how you move.”

“Yes, Master,” she murmured, the tension in her voice unmistakable.

Was it fear? Mortification? Anticipation? Hunter hoped it was all three.

He spanked each cheek crisply then, pausing between strokes to watch the movement, to listen to the sharp intake of breath. The sound, out there in the clear afternoon, was unlike anything he’d experienced, even the breeze seeming to hush to listen to the music of Lacey’s punishment.

Hunter shifted position then, changing the side he swung from, landing several hard smacks all over her right buttock, enjoying the way the pink blush grew angrier with each blow. He caught the underside of her generous bottom in an upward spank, her rich flesh upon his palm, setting the cheeks bounding upward, watching in satisfaction as she clenched reflexively, the cleft drawing to a thin line. Troy’s growled tone had her loosening immediately though, that thin line opening again into that alluring divide, the pale curves bright in the sun, the tender space between her cheeks deep in shadow.

“Harder,” Troy murmured. He drew close, speaking into Hunter’s ear such that only he could hear the words. “You know she can take it.
Remember.
”

Hunter laid down quick, sharp smacks across the other side of her ass, and for a crazed moment, he wanted to take a gentle bite of the soft flesh, to claim her in yet another — though no less possessive — way.

Christ, this is torture.

Lacey cried out for the first time, taking a tiny step toward the railing as Hunter landed a particularly harsh blow upon the crease just under one cheek. Rather than take mercy on her though, Hunter grasped her by a hip and smacked that same spot twice more, each strike harder than the last.

Lacey gasped at the sting as he took a step back, searching the increasingly congested canvas he was using to paint her pain upon. He found two spots higher up, still pale, and spanked them until they too flushed satisfactorily. Hunter’s cock spasmed as he watched her buttocks clench and squeeze, loosening again, her thighs visibly shaking. He stroked them next, loving the lush softness, the vulnerable, pale flesh fair crying out for its share of punishing strokes. Hunter caressed her legs, making her wait, catching the strong scent of her arousal, carried on the warm afternoon breeze. He wondered what he’d find there between those thighs, imagining the dripping furnace he’d glimpsed all those months ago after he’d had his inaugural taste of disciplining this yielding, submissive beauty.