Her Troika (The Complete Story) (Dominion Trust Book 2) (3 page)

South African chuckled. “It does, when I wish it.”

“How often do you … wish it?”

“You ask lotta questions, man.”

Two steps, and something rustled. Fabric? Clothing?

“Sorry Johan, I’ve just … I’ve never seen a belt like that.”

“It’s okay, Kearney.” A pause. “She gets out every couple weeks or so. If she’s good.”

Breanna caught her breath. Did they mean?

Tell me they do not keep her in one of those …

“Couple of
weeks
? Jesus…” She couldn’t tell if it was horror or mere curiosity in Kearney’s voice.

There was the sound of a hand clapping someone’s back. “Relax about it, Kearney. It’s what she needs. You want …?”

There was a snap of leather, and the sound of a buckle rattling. “No, I can try.”

“Yeah, man. Pull off all the snaps. They’re tight — yeah, you see how they slide through?”

“Oh, yes I see,” Kearney said, his voice strained. “Let’s — Jesus, damned tight!”

There was a low moan.

“Shh, stay there, Simona.” There was a fondness in Johan’s deep voice. “Be good now.”

Another thunk, and a step. “How does?”

“Reach between her legs, Kearney. There — right, the buckle.”

“Got it,” Kearney grunted. “This is a bitch.”

“She’s well—looked after,” Johan said. “You should think about one of your own. Nothing like it.”

There was a dismissive snort. “Too much work. I like borrowing yours.”

“Selfish bastard,” Johan muttered.

Breanna inhaled sharply, suddenly remembering she needed to breathe. She felt sorry for the girl, but it was impossible not to listen. They were ten feet away!

“Unh, unnnh!” The soft voice was strained, lost. Gagged?

“There, slow. Slow, Kearney.” Another clink of a buckle. “Here give it to me.”

“She’s soaked … “

Breanna could hear the girl breathing like a bellows. Was that arousal she could smell on the air too? She wasn’t sure if it was hers (her pussy clenched at each tortured moan from the stall next door) or the girl’s.

“No — that smaller strap too,” Johan said. “You’re not done.”

“Here?”

“Unsnaps from the main belt, and just pull it back through … now, you’ve got it.”

“Unnh! UNNNH!” There was a harsh slap, the sound echoing in the stall.

“Keep quiet, Simona. Let him learn.”

“Christ, Johan … it’s fucking
huge
.”

The South African’s deep laughter rumbled. “Impressive, ya? She needs it though. Keeps her in line like nothing else, man. Ready?”

“Guess so. Will this hurt her?”

“Of course — but not as much as it did going in. Don’t be a girl, Kearney. Get on with it.”

“UNNNH AH AHHHH!” Feet stamped the boards, hard.

“Slow and steady, Kearney. That’s right.” There was the sound of a hand patting bare flesh. “Relax and push out, girl.”

The pitch of the girl’s whimpering descended from frantic to exhausted, her breathing labored. Breanna couldn’t help but wince in sympathy.

“Look at that … ”

“Quite a gape, yes?” The pride was clear in Johan’s voice. “Took us a long while to get up to that size. But she manages regularly now.”

“How? That thing barely fits.”

“I didn’t say she manages easily, Kearney. She manages though because I
make
her. She gave up any choice in the matter long ago.”

A sliding sound, and leather striking wood. “Here, use this first,” Johan said. “I’ll help you.”

Breanna jerked at the first blow, the flogger startlingly loud in the enclosure. The girl grunted in surprise, rather than pain.

“Harder, man. It sounds worse than it is.”

“You sure?”

“Haven’t you flogged an ass before, Kearney?”

“Well, sure. I mean … ”

Johan’s laughter rolled through the otherwise quiet space. “Oh, you’ve been thrown in the deep end here, yah?”

Breanna listened in tense silence as the flogging continued, each blow harder than the last, the deep voice of the South African exhorting his inexperienced companion to hit her harder, sweep upward, catch the thighs. Soon, the girl was keening steadily behind her gag, the flogger coming down on her with a harsh SHLACK, over and over.

“There that’s enough now.” Johan’s voice strained. “Have a feel, then we need to …”

“Burning!” There was wonder in Kearney’s voice.

“Great coloring too, yes? Nothing like a hard flogging to bring it out. You left some good marks on her thighs too. Really laid into her.”

“Ah shit, Johan. I’m sorry—”

“Nonsense. She’s tough.” There was wet slap, and a mewling sound. “Look at that cunt. Tells you all you need to know about whether or not she liked her little whipping.”

Breanna thought she could actually hear zippers lowering, then definitely could hear the crinkling sound of condoms being unwrapped. “No, use her cunt. You can have her ass another time when it’s not so sore. She still has to have that thing put back in when you’re done She’s not out of the woods quite yet, mate.”

The girl sighed, chains rattling against wood. “Christ, she’s hot!” Kearney hissed.

Then rhythmic slaps of flesh on flesh soon filled the quiet building the girl’s moaning quavering as her body shook under the assault.

“That’s right. Don’t hold it back now. Give it to her hard. She doesn’t know any other way.

Breanna’s pussy clenched in anticipation of what she hoped would come. But if her last visit was anything to go by, she knew if might be a very long weekend indeed for her lonely, bereft pussy.

The sounds of flesh smacking flesh grew louder. A sharp slap and a growled oath had the girl mewling again.

“Get deep, man. Her cervix is sensitive, don’t forget it.”

“Unnh Ahh! Ahh!”

Kearney groaned, chains rattling and feet stomping the floor.

“Be careful, man. Come out slowly. She’s really close.”

A ragged sigh, followed by another harsh slap, making her whine.

Breanna wanted to see, yet she wanted to do anything but. To witness the poor woman’s defilement, nothing more than a receptacle for the mens’ animal lusts. She felt sympathy, and at the same time … envy.
Her
cunt was being pounded, her ass smacked. Attention, even of the degrading, cruel sort was preferable to her lonely stall. The sounds from the other side of the partition: South African man telling Kearney to pull out the next largest size from the case, only further inflamed Breanna’s lust. Her clit throbbed, seeming to swell larger with each heartbeat. Her nipples tented the fine silk of her blouse, the throb of her clit seemingly directly linked to the impossibly hard tips of her swollen breasts.

“Now, you’re going to need her help for this.” Johan said. “Yes, just undo the cuffs, the chains will keep them there.”

“This is … there’s no way, Johan. It won’t fit.”

Johan’s low laugh rumbled. “She’ll take it. We’ve done bigger before. Grab that lube, there.”

Breanna could hear the wet sounds of lubrication being applied.

“Not too much, man,” Johan’s voice gentled, redirecting. “We want you to feel this, don’t we girl? A little slickness now to get it started, but nothing should be easy for you should it? Exactly the way you need it.”

A defeated murmur sounded from the girl, followed by another light slap. “Okay, let’s get moving, Kearney.”

“Jesus, Johan this is going to tear her.”

“Nonsense. Trust me.”

There was another rattle of chains, the girl’s rapid breathing clearly audible.

“Here, try this.” Johan’s voice lowered, stern. “You know you’re to help him. What is this now? There, better, but you’re too slow to obey—”

“Johan, no it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. She’s been trained better than this.” Two loud slaps. “Get them back there, slut! Wide! Wider than that.”

“That’s more than I need. You’re sure this won’t hurt her?”

“Who said anything about it not hurting? I won’t tear her — if you’re careful — but it’s going to hurt her all right. That’s the point, Kearney. She needs this, the pain — she responds to it. Just wait, you’ll see.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and a skirring of chains.

“She’s tightening,” Kearney said, irritation in his voice.

“Just keep steady pressure. It’ll give way. Just be patient.”

A wild mewling sounded, along with a frustrated sigh. “See, this isn’t working, Johan.”

“Need to talk her through it. She’s skittish because it’s you, I think.” There was a soft thud, and a clear gasp.

“Can you talk, girl? Move your jaw, now. There, better? Well, I asked you a question, Simona.”

“Sorry, Master,” Simona’s soft voice rasped. “I—It is too big. I will tear. Please—”

“You had this very plug in your ass last week. Don’t lie to me.”

“We could use the next size down, Johan.”

“Absolutely not, Kearney.” Johan’s tone coarsened, irritation plain now. “She’s taking this one. If we have to wait all night. She’s not leaving without that plug in her ass.
That
one.”

Breanna’s body trembled, sympathetic to Simona’s plight, yet insane as it was, she envied her just a bit as well.

Two men, working on the helpless woman. Though it was something she’d never had the strength to admit in so many words, what was happening on the other side of that partition was straight out of the darkest depths of her own fantasies.

Somehow Kurt had known what she wanted — what her body needed.

And now, as she knelt there listening to the defilement of Simona, she was getting it.

“There, girl. Much better.”

“Thank you … Master.” Her breathless voice dropped to a moan again, whether of pain or pleasure Breanna couldn’t determine. Did it even matter in this place?

A higher pitched moan, then the sound of breath rasping from her lungs.

“Got it,” Kearney said. “I … can’t believe it.”

“Wait till you see her between the shafts, man. Make this look like child’s play.”

“Now?”

“Later.” There was the sound of snaps being fastened, and a sharp intake of breath. “She needs to rest a little while, yeah?”

“What do I do with … this?”

Johan’s laughter boomed once more. “Just set it down next to her. No, where she can see it. I want her to think about what’s coming next, man.”

“Are there more?”

“Girls?” She could hear the smile in Johan’s voice. “Sure — there’s usually at least a few more at the auctions. I’ve seen more than ten, occasionally. Depends on the bidders and … the selection.”

Auctions?

Breanna’s mouth went dry. She needed Kurt. Now.

Chapter Two

T
he kitchen was as quiet as it was dark, only a single fixture splashing warm light down onto the oak surface of the round table shoehorned into a small nook. Derek sat down, shrugging off his coat.

Kurt set a beer on the table, popping the top before taking a seat across from him. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually come out.”

“When I got a look at the map, I almost didn’t.”

“Sometimes it’s better not to be in the city.” Kurt leaned back, his chair creaking. “Less attention.”

Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Any plans on telling me why ‘attention’ would be a problem for you?”

“They told me it was too soon, you know.” Kurt scratched his cheek. “But I knew you’d work out.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

This was going to be a very long talk if Kurt was going to be evasive the whole time.

“The Trust.”

“Who?”

Kurt twirled his bottle in his hand, the sound surprisingly loud in the stillness of the kitchen. “You’ve been wondering where I get off to that one weekend a month, right?”

“That’s … The Trust?”

Kurt’s nod was slow, his eyes never leaving Derek. “I’ve been trying to keep it at one weekend a month, but I’ve waited as long as I can. It’s time for me to make a choice. Which is why I’ve brought you here.”

Derek rubbed his neck. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been craning his head forward as he’d driven through that thick fog, and he was feeling it now.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

Derek snorted. “I’m not your type, pal.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, dickhead.” Kurt’s lips quirked. “You’re safe with me. Now, with others around here …”

“Dude, I don’t care what it is. I mean to collect.” Derek sat forward, his face washed in the warm brightness of the light. In a different setting, it might have felt menacing, like the light of an interrogation chamber. Here it just lent an air of mystery that Kurt seemed to enjoy cultivating. “Time to spill it. Why the fuck are we here? And where do you go that mystery weekend every month? And don’t tell me it’s civil war reenactments or some shit like that. I’ll unfriend your ass, right here.”