Maintenance Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

groaned, choking back a sob. She bucked her hips up and down, not caring one whit about the way the motion made her cheeks wobble. The red haze of her hurt was all that she was at that moment, the insistence of her throbbing, empty pussy an undercurrent just below all that pain.
    “How many was that?”
    She sniffled, her voice catching. “Fi — six, Sir.”
    Three more? There was no fucking way. No way at all.
    Still she laid her cheek on the bed, her body alive with tension. She wiggled her bottom a little, insanely daring him to go on. She knew it was the best way to get over with, then he’d finally sink deep within her. He’d fuck her, claim her.
    His.
    “These will hurt I’m afraid.” The cane stroked over the curves of her bottom, making her picture a violinist’s bow playing the strings. Only the song Troy played was her pain, his cane the instrument.
    Pain slashed in across her thighs, low down toward the knees, and her high, clear shriek pealed through the quiet room. She hopped up, the muscles of her legs taut, her buttocks clenching and unclenching. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”
    She grunted, her teeth clenched as the sting sunk in, burning deep. Her legs finally unlocked, her thighs whispering together, vainly trying to assuage the hurt.
    “Shh, Lacey.” His calm voice at her ear again. His hand stroked up and down the side of her neck, massaged the tight muscles at her nape. “Just let it go. Breathe through it now.”
    She took a deep breath, then another. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, his lips smearing her tears against her heated skin.
    His hand grasped her shoulder, easing her back down. “One more, girl. You can do this.”
    She shook her head, her tears coming on full force, the comforter already wet with them. “I can’t, Troy. I can’t do it. Please, no more.”
    The room went very still, and she could feel her husband’s gaze burning into her. Fingers palpated both of the throbbing, aching tramlines across her thighs. She whimpered as he gently squeezed the flesh of the newest track.
    “Almost broke the skin here,” he said, seemingly to himself. “Need to be more careful.”
    His hands eased over her trembling thighs, kneading the muscles, not intentionally irritating her marks, but not avoiding them either. He patted her bottom, which, compared to her burning thighs, now felt relatively good.
    “Last one, girl.” He kissed her hip, his hand delving between the cheeks once more, fingers gliding across her untested bottom hole. He chuckled as she clenched it reflexively. “Soon enough, Lacey.”
    She didn’t have time to wonder what that meant, as the cane was laid gently across the junction of her thighs and buttocks once more.
    “Troy — Sir! Not there, please!”
    “I’m going to whip your thighs again, Lace. Nothing you can do about it.” The intent rumble of his voice both chilled her, and made her pussy ache for his cock. She was truly one fucked up woman.
    “Do you need to say it?”
    She gulped in a great breath of air, and shook her head, trying to still the trembling of her body. She feared that cane stroke — yet she craved it as well. Taking it meant she had endured, conquered. She knew it was completely crazy, but she regarded it as a point of pride, a demonstration of her strength. She tried not to think of why the searing pain transformed itself into intense, forbidden pleasure, shooting straight to her clit, making her lust for more. So much more.
    The cane tapped, directly across her vulnerable ‘sit spot’. For the next week, she’d feel the stroke every time she sat down, every time she bent over. A reminder of his ownership — and of his love. It would be the last stroke to heal, and though she’d never admit it to anyone, that lingering pain throughout the next week would be reassuring. Comforting.
    “Ready, Lacey? This will be the hardest one.” The cane stilled, pressed to her flesh the way an executioner sights his sword on the neck of the