Her Troika (The Complete Story) (Dominion Trust Book 2) (16 page)

“No, no,” Derek said, his voice soft. “Just let me take care of them.”

“Stay down, girl. Nobody gave you permission to stand.” A shiver ran through her body at the steel in Kurt’s voice, the same steel that made her want to do nothing but whatever he commanded.

She moaned as the hands massaged each arm in turn, while she remained still, awkwardly bent tight at the waist. Soon the stiffness was better, her muscles warm, hands even rubbing each finger, leaving the skin lightly tingling. But she had little time to enjoy the languid pleasure of it.

“Tie her wrists to the bar,” Kurt said.

Her breath caught and she watched Derek’s hands still lightly kneading one of her palms.

“How?”

“Use those straps Lino brought.”

Derek looked down at her. “You all right?”

“Yes, it’s — it’s okay.” Her voice sounded small, almost frightened. It confused her, how she almost didn’t want to talk, how it felt
better
just to be silent, dealing with her confused emotions in silence. This was something entirely new for her, on a day filled with new experiences.

Derek gently laid each of her hands on the rough wood, the position relieving the stress on her back, then laid the cool, white fabric of the straps over each hand. He looked up again. “How though? Nothing to attach them …”

“Just wrap them around the bar and over her wrists a few times. She’s not going anywhere.” A hand grasped her hip firmly, fingers squeezing. “Besides, she knows not to move them.”

Derek’s hands trembled ever so slightly as he bound her, but she could see he was no novice, cinching her down just well enough to keep her from getting loose, but not so tight it threatened circulation.

“Nicely done,” Kurt said, chuckling. “Done this before, perv?”

“Fuck off.”

She bit her lip to silence a giggle. It was an insane time to laugh about anything, but it lessened the tension just the tiniest bit, allowing her to breathe easier ― even if the harness didn’t. Derek stepped to the side, shoving hands in his front pockets. Arousal bloomed in her belly at the sight of his obvious erection, constrained in his jeans.

“You want her to take care of you?” A hand stroked her bottom gently, possessively.

“Uh, what?” Derek backed up a half step.

“Jesus, stop being a pussy, dude. If you want her to suck your dick, step on up.”

Through the veil of her hair, she watched Derek’s face color. “What? I don’t get to fuck her?”

Kurt laughed, his hand patting her ass. “You want to? I’d have offered her cunt to you too if I thought you’d take it. I figured your new Puritan streak would force you to pass.”

“I ―” Derek glanced down at her. “―I don’t know, man. It’s just …”

Kurt sighed behind her. “Look, Derek. You’ve
gotta
get over yourself. She wants this.”

She yelped as Kurt’s big hand came down on her ass, hard, the sound echoing in the stall.

“Yeah, but do
you
?”

“Last chance,” Kurt said, stepping closer, pressing the hard bulge of his erection to her bottom, a promise of what was to come, the fabric of his jeans irritating the marks left from Lino’s whip. “Come on, duck under that bar and show her who owns her now. You can do it.”

Her mouth went dry at the words, but she ground her ass against him. Kurt’s hand smoothed over her hip, letting her feel the strength in his fingers. “Soon, Breanna. Be a good girl and take care of him first.”

Derek paused a moment, then exhaled, squaring his shoulders. He slipped under the bar and faced her, his hands stroking her hair. She looked up at Derek, shaking her hair from her eyes. His eyes met hers, and he touched her lips, stroked a finger down her cheek.

She moistened her lips as she studied his face. He moved closer, hugging her head to his hard, defined belly. She inhaled his clean scent, her mouth watering. Having Kurt there with them, watching, made this dirty, wrong, but the throb of her clit, the almost painful hardness of her nipples told the true tale. It was time.

Derek moved back a step, gazing down on her, a half smile upon his lips. For a moment, she wondered if he wasn’t quite right for this, if he could
really
do what needed to be done. Perhaps even now, it could all go wrong.

God, please …

Then his eyes flashed, his lips thinning to a line. His hand entwined in her hair, pulling her head up, straining her neck. He worked his fly loose, his heavy, thick cock springing forth, the broad head an angry purple.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His hand smacked her cheek lightly. “Be quiet and suck.”

The hot flesh tapped against her lips, the pleasing male scent filling her nostrils. She took him in, the shaft blazing hot, her tongue tracing the veined length of him. Her eyes closed as she took him deeper, savoring the taste of him.

“No, keep them open,” Derek said, his voice thick.

She gazed up at him as he pushed for her throat, his hand holding her chin. Her vision blurred as her eyes watered, the heavy head triggering her gag reflex. She thought she saw a moment’s concern dash across Derek’s handsome features.

“Ignore it,” Kurt said, deep pleasure in his voice. “She knows how, just have to push her through it.”

Well practiced as she was at her husband’s knee, she relaxed her throat and took Derek deep. He stroked slowly out then plunged forward once more, each time rougher and faster with it. He tightened his grip on her hair, the roots complaining painfully, the thrust of his cock drawing a surprised sound from her throat on each deep plunge.

“That’s right, girl,” Kurt murmured from behind her, his hands stroking her bottom again. “Be good to him. Obey him.”

Kurt’s hand slipped between her cheeks, fingers sliding through her folds to find the swollen, aching clit.

Oh you evil, wonderful man.

Her belly clenched as the thick digits rubbed back and forth over her clit, alternating with deep plunges into her pussy, stretching her roughly the way he knew she liked. Soon Derek was pounding into her throat, her hair screaming at the painful grip, his hand cradling her slick chin in his palm, the wet sounds of her mouth on his thrusting cock vying with the sounds of his labored breathing.

This was the dream made real, the fantasy come to life. Two men, using her for their own pleasure, her merely the receptacle, the toy for their enjoyment. The previous weekend had been just the taste, testing her. Now, she was in the deep waters, lost, drowning in it.

And despite her fear, she longed for what came next, whatever trial, or pain, or humiliation, she wanted all of it. Depraved or not ― she’d examine what all this might mean some other time, in some other life ― right now she needed it, needed to see how far they’d take her.

A deep, staccato growling came from Derek’s chest, his thrusts becoming almost brutal. Kurt used both hands on her pussy then, the fingertips relentless on her burning clit, two, then three long fingers plundering her sex, the tips playing with her sensitive cervix, making her womb clench. “That’s right, girl,” Kurt growled. “Come for him, come for us. Then you’ll swallow every drop.”

Her orgasm took her under swiftly, and she shrieked around the hard, thrusting cock pushing once again for her throat. Her pussy clamped down on her husband’s fingers, squeezing hard as spasm after spasm rocked her, and Derek groaned, folding himself over her, his fingers digging into her chin as hot semen poured over her tongue, and down her throat. His hips jerked once, twice, his hand still tight in her hair, holding her to him, then he staggered backwards, releasing her, a great breath bursting from her lungs as he pulled out. A glistening string of fluid stretched from her lips to Derek’s cock, then broke, laying a warm, sticky line along her chin and throat.

Her thighs trembled so much her legs felt as if they’d collapse at any moment. She watched Derek pull his pants closed over a still half-erect cock. He took in deep breaths, occasionally glancing at her, then ducked back under the beam and out of her sight. She sagged forward, laying her cheek on the rough wood of the beam, not caring that the position probably displayed her pussy as if she were in heat.

“Where are you going?” Mirth was clear in her husband’s deep voice, and she closed her eyes, shuddering at how she must look. “You sure you don’t want to use her cunt too? Look at her, she’s ready.”

“No ― I mean … fuck, I gotta get outside for a minute, Kurt. Jesus.”

The stall door slammed shut, her post-orgasmic fog preventing her from analyzing too deeply what was going on. She needed to rest, needed to think on all that had happened, all that might yet happen, but she knew she wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot.

Kurt’s hands clasped her hips, his long, hard cock sliding into her, spreading her wide, his size a challenge to take all at once. As he pressed fully into her, he drew a high, urgent sound from her. “Now, you’ll take care of
me
, girl.”

Chapter Fourteen

“W
hat the fuck is wrong with you, dude!”

The breeze softened the vehement edge to his voice, as if the words were spoken through thick cloth. The wind picked up, carrying the smell of the sagebrush from beyond the track. Derek braced his arms on the rail, his head down, trying to ignore the pleasant heaviness at his groin, how his cock was still slick from the ministrations of Breanna’s soft mouth. Even now, just the thought of what she’d done had his cock stirring once more. It was like being a teenager again.

Pushing himself from the rail, he opened the gate and walked out onto the groomed track, the wind louder in his ears. As he walked the track, he couldn’t help but think about what he’d seen just that morning: the blonde beauty, lank, sweaty hair sticking to flushed cheeks, the woman struggling in her bonds, the boots shuffling along in this very same dirt. If he hadn’t witnessed it, he’d have never believed it. Surreal.

Had he become the kind of man who’d allow such a thing to go on? Yes, of course, she’d agreed to this, wanted this, blah blah blah. That wasn’t the point.

He’d stood there and watched a woman be whipped around a track like an animal. Shouldn’t there have been a point where one would object just as a matter of course, as a decent human being might? No, he’d taken it all in, breathless, his cock pounding between his legs, aching to get out, to feel the heat of her flesh against his. Then afterward, he’d let her suck his cock — no, he’d
made
her suck his cock. Used her.

Derek knew he was being a pussy about this. He was a man, a normal man. This was … something a normal man didn’t do. The solution was just to talk to Kurt. Tell him how he felt. Tell him that he wasn’t cut out for this, even if his body seemed to be telling him something else entirely.

Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?

How had Kurt known Derek would react this way? Hell, he had no idea himself that anything like this would
ever
turn him on. Yet, the evidence — including the cock coming back to life between his legs at that very moment — was overwhelming.

Maybe he wasn’t the man he’d always thought he was? Perhaps his marriage had fallen apart because his wife had finally seen who he
really
was, that aspect of his personality he wasn’t even conscious of himself. It didn’t matter now — what was done was done — but it was as if he’d stumbled upon a trail he didn’t even know he’d been following, the path ahead now finally becoming discernible.

It was where that path might lead that had him wondering.

He glanced back at the barn, at the everyday, ordinary structure within which only the extraordinary took place. There was something else, something that he was almost afraid to bring out into the light and really see, really understand.

It was her.

How would this work if his feelings for Breanna deepened? How could he deal with the possessive feelings he’d always felt strongly for any woman he was intimate with? He knew it just wouldn’t work, when said woman was taken.

She’s not just taken, idiot. She’s his fucking wife.

Derek started back to the barn, certain about what he should say, but having not a clue about how to say it. His small, comfortable, predictable world had been turned upside down. Thirty-six hours ago, Breanna had been this unattainable, mysterious woman —
verboten.
She existed on a plane wholly separate from his, a being above, and apart from him. She had beauty, sophistication, wit, and that innate, subtle vulnerability women seemed to exude, a force so powerful the average male was helpless against it.

Now, she was subject to him, at his disposal — and at his mercy. But he hadn’t shown her much of that mercy had he? He’d used her as he would a common whore, worse maybe. And he’d liked it. Screw that — he’d
loved
it. How else was he going to explain the railroad spike currently throbbing in his pants?

Why did this turn him on as much as it did? Did he even want to know the answer to that question? The fact was, this exhilarated him. He knew he just needed to accept it, be at peace with the animalistic side of him he’d so long suppressed.