M is for Maintenance Night #spankA2Z Blog Hop Challenge

Today for Spanking Romance's Blog Hop Challenge,  I'd like to feature one of my favorite spanking books by one of my favorite authors: Maintenance Night by Trent Evans. I have to admit, this is one I have read multiple times, have had my husband read (in the hopes of inspiring) and have recommended to everyone I know. And it currently sits invisible on Amazon as it carries the dreaded Adult Tag...

What was it about Maintenance Night that made me fall in love with it? Well, it's hot. I think partly it's that I like the way Trent writes and his kinks line up with mine pretty well so if he writes it, I'm pretty much going to devour it, so today I'm sharing one of my favorite  reads with you. Here's just one scene to tease you with. A quick set up, it's maintenance night, as you might have guessed, and Troy has just inspected and warmed up his wife over his knee with a hand spanking. 

* * * 

He grabbed one of her wrists from behind her head, and led her swiftly down the hallway. He opened the door, and yanked her close, making her stumble into the stone wall of his chest. “Get in there. You know what I want. If you aren’t in position when I get back, you’ll regret it.”

He sent her into the darkened room with a crisp slap to her throbbing ass, before disappearing down the hallway.

She gulped, turning her head to look at the dreaded corner as she bent over the footboard of their tall bed. She both hated and loved the time-honored position, as the height of the bed always made her picture herself hanging her naked ass out over the precipice of an immense canyon. The helplessness of the position was equal parts mortifying and arousing, as she knew he’d walk in to see nothing but her too big ass, spread open for him and ready for punishment or pleasure — either one entirely at his whim. With a shudder, she realized he’d also see her inflamed, wet sex, smell her arousal. No matter how many tears she shed, no matter how loudly she cried out, her body would tell him everything he needed to know.

He liked to leave her there to stew, to think — to dread. It might be thirty seconds, or ten minutes. She would wonder, her senses amplified, listening for any sound, any hint he might be coming back down the hall. The snap of the house settling made her flinch.

“You’re ridiculous, Lacey,” she told herself. “You asked for this.” The quaver in her voice told her it wasn’t quite that simple. Had she really asked for this?

She remembered thinking about how to ask him. Just how do you tell your husband you want him to spank you until you cry? What is his reaction likely to be when you confess to harboring deep-seated fantasies of putting yourself in another’s hands, relinquishing all choice, all rights to your own body? She knew though, that Troy was the one. He had a core of steel he let her see every so often. His inner strength gave her hope Troy was the kind of man who could satisfy the dark needs seething beneath Lacey’s “good girl” façade.

So she’d finally conjured up the nerve to tell him. It was...weird. There was no other way to describe it. She’d pictured one of two possibilities: he’d look at her with a witch’s brew of shock, horror, and revulsion, shortly before serving her with divorce papers; or he’d take it as a lark, and assume his wife just wanted a little more “spice” in their lovemaking.

But it hadn’t been any of that. He’d just looked at her — through her, and simply nodded, his eyes bright and alive, and said, “We start tomorrow.”

“You aren’t falling asleep on me are you?”

Lacey jerked at his voice, jolted out of her reverie. He had a disconcerting habit of moving silently when he wanted to.

“Sorry, I — “

His hand pressed over her lips. “Shh, just be quiet, little girl. I don’t need your words. I need your cries.”

Oh fuck.

She felt it hit the mattress near her head. She knew what it was even before she laid eyes on that pale yellow length of rattan.

“Troy, you’ve already spank—”

His hand cracked down on her ass, the sound jarring. She yelped at the sting on her still sore flesh.

“I said quiet. I hadn’t intended to gag you, but if you can’t follow directions, you’ll be getting that too — along with the cane.”

Her lips moved, but his flinty gaze and clenched jaw stilled them. She nodded, defeated, closing her eyes tight.

She hated the fucking cane! Hated it.

* * * 

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