Her Troika (21 page)

“After what?” The voice was Derek’s, lust thick in his voice.

“Her cleaning, Mr. Derek.” A hand tapped her hip. “Spread your legs,
fulana
.”

“But, the chain—” She bit off her words before she got herself in any more trouble. Too late.

“I think it’s time to take care of that mouth, don’t you think?” Kurt’s voice had dropped to a rumble, the timbre of it seeming to transmit vibration right through her very clit. His voice had always been able to do that, that aroused, rumbling murmur making her want to curl up around him, do anything he’d ask — just as long as he still spoke in that voice.

“Hold this.” Lino handed the attachment to Derek, who let the spray fall from her body. Then her gaze met Derek’s clear brown eyes, and she allowed herself a small smile. Though she knew this excited him too — the prominent bulge at his crotch made that clear — she felt a warmth from him, perhaps a different spin on dominance than that of her husband. It was a complementary rather than conflicting difference though, and as she searched her feelings, she was glad for it — she needed
both
of those sides. Perhaps it centered her, provided a balance, or maybe it was just one of those indefinable differences among men that fascinated and attracted her.

The hand entwining in her hair took her by surprise, pulling her head back sharply. As she looked up at the blank ceiling, the pungent rubber was pressed to her lips. She closed her mouth on reflex, but fingers dug into her cheeks.

"Open. Now." It was her husband's voice.

"Kurt, dude," Derek said. "We don't need ... "

"She knows the rules," she heard Kurt say, his deep voice barely audible over the pound of her pulse in her ears. "Actually, this'll probably help her relax. I think the choice is what's getting to her."

She tried to bark a retort against the gag as it was pushed between her teeth, the smell of rubber overpowering now, but the way her tongue was depressed reduced her speech to so much inchoate noise. The cruel gag filled her mouth, the corners of her mouth stretched painfully by the straps. Immediately, she could feel her mouth begin to moisten, the saliva already gathering, but with her tongue immobilized there was nothing for it.

"This is better, Mr. Derek." Lino tied off the gag at her nape, a lock of her curls tangling with the clasp, uncomfortably yanking the roots of her hair. "We've gone longer than normal. This is not usual."

"Normal what?" She could kiss him for his willingness to protect her from this, even as she hoped he'd fail in the endeavor. "You have some sort of manual for this shit?"

Lino's chuckle was more vibration than noise, and his dark eyes met hers for a moment before he addressed Derek. "This is process, Mr. Derek. More listening, less talking."

"I'd say you've taken care of the talking part just fine," Derek said, the stream of water taken away from her throbbing buttocks.

"He was talking about you," Kurt murmured.

Lino laughed, and despite her predicament, she'd have smiled too — had the gag allowed such a thing.

The water splashed against her skin once more, streaming over the stinging skin of her upper thighs. "Laugh it up, assholes," Derek muttered.

"Finish her, then I show you inspection." Lino stepped to the ledge at the rear of the room, laying a tanned hand on the white-tiled surface. "
Muy importante
.”

She tensed as someone moved up close behind her, the water cascading down her legs then sloshing on the tiles loud in the closed room. Her breath rasped through her nose, and she bit down on the gag, trying to acclimate herself to the foreign invader stoppering her mouth.

“It’s okay, Breanna,” Derek said, his voice just behind her, the tones soothing. “Just going to clean you off. Lots of dust on you.”

His hands coursed over her flesh, the water following wherever he touched. Down her legs he went, scrubbing a little at the dirt caked to her calves where it had worked down inside the straps of the boots. Then both hands eased up her inner thighs, her legs opening almost of their own will, her pussy heating immediately. That she wanted him seemingly continuously now was a surprise — normally, she’d only had that reaction to Kurt — but it was a pleasant one. He’d worked out better than she’d had any reason to hope.

And as his strong hands urged her thighs further apart, then gently stroked the swollen lips of her seething pussy, she knew he’d been the right one. She sighed against the rubber clamped between her teeth as his fingertips and the warm water both found her aching clit, working it gently, but insistently. Not until her legs began to buckle and panting sounds came out from behind her gag did he relent. Her clit felt twice its normal size, even the very drops of water dripping from her sex feeling like a lover’s caress.

“Bring her off?” Kurt’s voice was low — either thick with lust, or tense with concentration.

“No, just to the edge, then no more,” Lino said. She looked up, meeting the Spaniard’s cold gaze. He smiled. “Then bring her here.”

Kurt stepped between her and Lino, and she looked up into his dark eyes. His mouth curved in a smile of purest pleasure, the cat with its prey. “You’re going to be good for us, right?”

She nodded, leaning toward him so her nipples might brush his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to evade the contact. “Then you stay still. We touch when we want to touch you, where we want to touch you.” Kurt’s gaze flashed. “You don’t touch us anymore — unless you’re told to.”

Nodding, she lowered her eyes, her hands clasping the chains at her wrist cuffs. Kurt’s calloused fingers slipped between the lips of her sex, stroking through her wetness. Derek's hands, followed by the heavenly stream of water, played over the planes of her back, fingering the delicate muscles there, tracing the lines of her shoulder blades. His big hands squeezed and kneaded the muscles of her shoulders as Kurt’s fingers eased into her pussy, pushing slowly deeper. She moaned, dropping her head back.

Kurt’s hand caught her breast, lifting it in a harsh squeeze. His fingers found her nipple, stroking its length a moment, then clamping it like a vise. “No. Look at me while I do this. I want you to know who does this to you. Whose tits these are.” His other hand found her throbbing clit, tweaking it, making her keen louder. “Who owns this pussy.”

She snapped her gaze to his, even as his finger pushed for her core once more, driving hard. His thumb frictioned her clit, pressing it up against her pubic bone, squeezing, then backing off. She moaned, the overwhelming stimulation making her want to jump back and grind her hips against him all at once.

Derek’s voice was just behind her. “Don’t fight it. Just relax, Breanna.”

Leaning her head against his jaw, she closed her eyes, the sensation crowding out all awareness. She was all clit, pussy, and nipples. Derek’s hand spread the cheeks of her buttocks, the spray of water striking her anus directly. He touched it, and she jerked, unused to being touched there.

“Scared of this, isn’t she?” Derek propped his chin on her shoulder even as he circled the delicate opening with his fingertip. Kurt’s gaze met Derek’s and she saw something pass between the men.

Kurt locked his eyes with hers. “There’s no room for that here, Breanna. Not anymore. Here, you’d better get used to having that ass touched, used — by any of us. It’s gonna be happening a lot.” Kurt looked to Derek again, his mouth quirking a half smile. “She’s just not used to it being you — or anyone else. But she loves it — trust me.”

She thought she might actually spontaneously combust from shame.

Kurt had been the first man she’d ever let take her ass, and that first discovery of the confusing fusion of pain and pleasure in the act was something she’d never forget. To this day, she still wasn’t fully comfortable with it. He loved playing with her ass though, especially when he spanked her. It would be unusual for a thick finger or two not to find itself thrust deep into her bottom during one of her longer, harsher spankings. The feel of it held a dark allure — as humiliating as it was arousing. And once her husband had learned of her conflicted feelings about it, he’d promised he’d explore it further with her, take her farther than she ever thought she could go.

This whole damned weekend is farther than you ever thought you’d go.

Derek’s long finger stroked through the crevice of her ass, rasping over her bottomhole, the fingertip pausing to rub the sensitive flesh of her perineum, back and forth, then coursing back down between her still sore cheeks to worry her anus once more.

“Her ass clenches tight each time I touch it,” Derek murmured. “So nervous.” He laid a soft kiss on the sensitive junction of neck and shoulder. “But I won’t hurt you, Breanna … unless you want me to.”

Oh god!

It wasn’t fair that they both seemed to know how to touch her, to give her just enough to calm frayed nerves. If she sat down and thought about this, alone, she’d conclude she was mostly scared shitless. But she was a lot more than scared too — the throbbing of her erect clit, the wetness of her sex that was much more than just the water from the shower, and hard nipples so sensitive even the currents of the air seemed to caress them, all told the tale, revealed her for what she really was.

“Here, you will need this.” Lino pressed a dark green bottle into Kurt’s hand, flashing her the wolfen grin that never failed to chill her. “Let them clean you,
fulana
. Then time for more.”

That word —
fulana
. She’d taken two years of Spanish in high school, but hadn’t continued it in college. Kurt had burst out laughing when she’d broken down and looked it up after her first weekend at Lino’s hands. Somehow, she’d already guessed the word’s general meaning, but to see what it actually meant left her both indignant and ambivalent. Was she really much more than a ‘slut’ when she allowed Kurt to use her like this though? Did the fact that it turned her pussy to molten lava essentially confirm the pejorative as, well,
true
?

“Close your eyes, Breanna,” Kurt said, squeezing a generous portion of shampoo into his palm. Derek’s hand clasped the ends of her long hair, and yanked down, until she obeyed the pull and tipped her head back, eyes clenched shut.

The combination of sensation was tipping her into delirium, the strong hands kneading the fragrant suds into her scalp; the gag invading her mouth, implacable, calloused fingers playing with the sensitive ring of muscle at her anus, stroking up into the cleft, spreading her cheeks rudely to play the hard stream of water directly across her bottomhole.

“I could do this shit for hours,” Derek said, giving her wet ass a slap, awakening the pain of sore buttocks once more.

“Me too,” Kurt said, his voice close. “But the hot water can’t.”

Kurt handed a bar of soap to Derek, his arm brushing her rib cage. He pressed a hard kiss to her jaw as he leaned close. “Get her soaped up. Lino’s waiting.”

Had the gag been removed she’d have been panting by the time the two men were done with her. Derek cooed into her ear as he scrubbed her, squeezing the aching curves of her buttocks between slippery fingers. “No, keep them loose,” he growled, his hand cupping a cheek. “I want to feel them.”

Derek bounced the weight of her buttocks in each hand, slapping one then admonishing her for clenching. He did it again, and again, until she understood, willing them to stay slack while his hands bounced them, his satisfied rumble at the way the light slaps made them shudder. He spread her asscheeks as far as they’d go, then worked suds front and back through her cleft, the tip of his finger worrying her cringing anus once more.

Kurt held her by her jaw, making her look into his eyes as he soaped her breasts, grasping each slick globe at the base of the nipple and shaking it. Then he slapped each of them in turn, his dark eyes searching hers as his palm stung her bouncing breasts, repeatedly. Her thighs trembled as Derek’s knowing hands rubbed the suds into the tight, fatigued muscles, his fingers tracing up and down the cords of her hamstrings. Kurt’s soapy hand insinuated itself between her thighs, holding the heat of her pussy in his palm, the gentle squeeze one of pure possessiveness.

“Mine, Breanna,” Kurt murmured, working the soap into her hot, wet flesh. “This cunt is mine.”

Kurt’s long fingers curled up into her sex, stroking her in that same spot until she thought she might fly apart. Somehow, the gag concentrated everything, as if the attenuation of her speech directed the full force of her perception to all sexual parts of her body, how they were used, enjoyed solely at whims of the men. Derek knelt behind her, working the soap all the way down her legs, between her toes, tickling her soles. Kurt scrubbed her arms, leaning close as she reached up to her cuffed hands, clasping her hands with his, the soap running over the cuffs and down her arms. The sensation of Kurt gently soaping her fingers, and Derek massaging each of her toes was something she thought she could gladly die experiencing, a glimpse of pure heaven in this place of dark lust.

Then the water coursed over her body, the heavy weight of her soaked hair lifted, rinsed. She could barely stand near the end of it, her legs boneless, her body trembling, the lassitude of her exhaustion threatening to sap all awareness from her at any moment. Her thoughts drifted to what came next, when she might be fucked again — and if Derek would finally take her. It had seemed so wrong to think of it before this weekend, even though she and Kurt had talked about it at length, what a Term meant — and what bringing Derek would truly entail.