by Trent Evans
Lino knelt down at her side, and she felt strong fingers encircle her leg above the top of one of the boots. She heard a metallic snap and looked under the trestle to see what had been done.
“Move your legs.” Lino stood. “Go on, try,”
She couldn’t separate her feet, the boots now linked together at the ankle. All she could do was raise her legs in tandem, which put all of her weight uncomfortably on her belly. No, she’d definitely be leaving them on the ground.
“Jesus, she’s …” Derek’s voice held a note of near awe.
“Fucking incredible is what she is, ” Kurt said, a hand landing painfully on her right ass cheek with a loud smack. “Look at those long legs too.”
A hand smoothed down one thigh, and up the other, making her shiver, the touch like electricity over her skin. “This is good choice for her,” Lino said, fingers kneading the taut cords of her hamstrings. “She is thin, but we will work her. A filly must have strong legs. Hers will be too, with time.”
She didn’t have time to be mortified at the way she was no doubt displayed, though thankfully she hoped the lips of her pussy might not be so blatantly visible with her legs clamped together. But the men weren’t done.
“Breanna,” Kurt said, raising his voice slightly. “Pull your legs under you. No, keep them straight, don’t bend your knees.”
She was glad for the hair hanging all around her head, for it and her position hid her furious blush. With the new position, her hips were significantly higher than the top of the trestle, her upper body sloping down, her breasts almost hanging in her face. There was no way she could hide anything now, the air cool on her exposed sex.
“That’s better, girl,” Kurt rumbled. “Now we can see that pretty cunt of yours, too.”
“God … damn.” Derek’s voice had dropped to a murmur.
“With that harness too, it makes her ass look so round like this. Very nice.” Another harsh smack landed on her buttocks, roasting the left cheek this time, forcing a whimper from her lips. She yanked at the straps holding her hands at her back, forgetting again that her arms were bound fast. She wasn’t sure which upset her most: the total helplessness of her position, or the fact that the men could now easily spot her blatant arousal, the heat in her pussy rising by the second. She loved being rendered helpless in Kurt’s hands, but never thought she’d be turned on by … other men, too.
Lino moved to a darkened corner, opening a tall, wooden cabinet, swinging the door wide. She stifled a whimper at what she saw.
“We will start light, as she is new.” Lino’s fingers deftly unhooked a broad length of caramel colored leather.
“Quite the, uh, armory,” Derek said. “Do you reenact The Inquisition in your spare time?”
Breanna almost burst out laughing. Derek’s snark was, in an odd way, a comfort. Levity lent brief relief to the serious, atmosphere, the dread at the pain that that strap looked capable of inflicting.
Lino stroked her back with the leather as he moved past her, joining the men out of her line of sight.
“You’re gonna hit her … with that?”
“Yes, Mr. Derek.” Leather tapped her buttocks, her breath catching. “This is only strap. There are much worse things to use on a filly.”
The strap smacked her ass, hard, three times in succession, each loud, snapping blow enough to rock her against the trestle. Heat bloomed across her ass, and she grit her teeth. Kurt enjoyed spanking her when the occasion called for it — and she enjoyed it when the occasion did — but this was something else entirely.
Another blow landed across the upper slopes of her ass cheeks, shaking her once more, the heat gathering yet higher.
“Fuck me,” Derek said under his breath.
Maybe she was in shock, but there wasn’t any real pain yet, only a heat perilously close to a burning.
“The edges are rounded, Mr. Derek.” Lino ran the hard edge of the leather down her thigh. “See? Protects her from cuts. Watch, I will hit her harder, and still no damage.”
She bucked her hips, trying to gain some leverage in the awkward position. A hand pressed down on her bound hands, holding her in place. “Stop that, Breanna.”
The steel in her husband’s voice, along with the implacable power of that hand stilled her, for the moment.
“She’ll learn,” Lino said, his voice calm. “Punishment follows disobedience.”
Another trio of blows burned the lower curves of her buttocks, sending the flesh bounding, making her clench against the heat rapidly morphing into real pain. It sank into her flesh, and neither her husband’s strong hand nor his warning growl could keep her from twisting her hips against the pain. Not being able to move, the inability to get away, made the sting that much worse.
“You try now, Mr. Derek. This is good one to learn with.”
She froze in her ignominious crouch over the trestle.
“I don’t … I’m not ready.” Derek’s voice held both hesitation and the thickness borne of lust. But which one would win out? Would he do it? He’d been so reluctant, so concerned about her thus far.
“Derek, dude. It’s not going to damage her.” Kurt’s hand squeezed one of her pinioned wrists, and she relaxed somewhat. Her husband was here, with her, as he’d always been — even when she’d asked more of him than he could give.
And she hoped he always would be.
“You must learn, Mr. Derek. She will rely on you to know when to use the carrot—” the back of a cool hand stroked over her burning bottom “—and when to use the stick!”
A sharp strike of the strap echoed through the space, lacing flame across the center of both ass cheeks, drawing a pained grunt from her.
“Shh, it’s okay, girl,” Kurt’s voice murmured, his fingers lacing with hers for just a moment. “Almost done.”
Maybe Derek wouldn’t do it? And in the insane, upside down world of her new existence a tiny part of her was actually disappointed that he didn’t have it in him to—
The strap whipped into her ass again, the sharp pain making her cry out.
“Good, Mr. Derek! Again now, harder. She is being punished.”
“For what?”
“She had to be whipped into running on the track. She must learn to obey.” Lino’s voice lowered. “Any man who gives her order here, she is to obey. This is the filly’s lot.”
“I’ve done enough.”
She smiled against the pain that had her ass feeling as if it were near to bursting into flames. Derek had it, yes, he could do it if he needed to, but that concern she heard in his tone, was what she fixated on.
“Mr. Kurt?”
“No … not just yet, Lino.”
The strap laced into her three more times, rapid fire, each blow concentrated where buttock met thigh, and by the third, she was keening through clenched teeth. She knew she’d feel those tomorrow morning. She groaned at a fourth, harder blow directly over those three, and she raised her feet off the floor, trying anything to protect that keep from another blow landing on that same spot.
“Legs down, fulana.”
At that moment, real hate flared within her for Lino, for his needless cruelty.
Even so, she couldn’t reconcile these feelings with the heat growing between her legs, the slickening between the lips of her pussy. Spankings from Kurt never failed to arouse her, but the pain from those was a mere tickle compared to the blaze stoked by that strap, and yet, there was a traitorous coiling deep in her belly, her arousal gathering. She’d have never believed it was possible to become excited when in pain like that. What did that mean?
She moaned as a hand explored the broad welts she could feel swelling across her bottom, the flesh protesting at even the lightest of touches.
“That is good for now,” Lino said, patting her hip. “You did well.”
She wanted to scream in frustration at the man. How he could be so heartless one second, then comforting the next, hopelessly confused her. It made no sense.
Ad
d that to the laundry list of shit that doesn’t make sense here, Breanna.
She inhaled sharply as rough fingers slipped between the lips of her pussy, spreading them wide, until she felt the currents of the air upon exposed inner flesh.
“Yes, as I thought.” A fingertip slicked back the hood of her clit, and tapped directly on the hard nodule, making her jerk. “Like a mare in heat this one.”
She dropped her head, the need to clench her burning cheeks, to hide her arousal, so great it almost overcame her fear of more punishment.
Lino’s chuckle brought her back to attention. Laughter from that man rarely boded well for a woman under his “care”. “I see that she is not only one … affected.”
The cruel Spaniard replaced the leather strap on its hook within the cabinet, and returned with a handful of cloth straps. Helping her to stand, he allowed Kurt to right her tangled, sweaty hair. Her husband laid his knuckles softly against the corner of her mouth and she kissed them, making him smile. Derek’s eyes, were hooded, his arms clasped tightly together over his strong chest. He avoided her gaze. Though she admonished herself silently for it, her eyes dropped to the huge bulges between both Derek’s and her husbands legs.
The knowledge that her punishment excited them even more did something to her, adding an element of dark illicitness to her own gathering arousal.
Lino walked her slowly back into the main barn proper, mercifully allowing some accommodation for the frightful trembling of her fatigued legs. Her bottom felt swollen, physically larger, and the weight of the men’s gazes on her martyred behind stirred both mortification and an illicit excitement within her.
That this experience was much more than she’d bargained for was plain. But even more than that, the things she was learning about herself, about her own needs, had shaken her to her core.
The barn was deserted now, of course, but a shiver went down her spine, ending in an odd tingling of her clit at the thought of all of those people who’d watched her auctioning, what she must have looked like up there.
Down the row of stalls, she walked, and though she dared not look, Breanna thought she heard hushed murmuring from one of the enclosed spaces as she passed. Some things — she’d found out, the hard way — were better off not being seen.
Lino stopped her at the stall she already thought of as hers. He slapped the straps down on the top of the wall next to the swinging door, and yanked her inside the enclosure, Derek and Kurt following close behind. A thick layer of clean, golden straw had been added to the floor, lending the sound in the place a slightly attenuated pitch, making the space feel almost hushed as a result.
Lino handed the leash to Derek. “You two will need to take care of … your needs. Then we attend to her punishments, yes?”
“Uh, I don’t—”
“That’ll be fine, Lino.” Kurt was already unbuttoning his shirt. “Come check on us in a bit. She’ll be in good hands in the meantime.”
Yes, thank you God.
She’d needed her husband’s touch for seemingly ages, his fevered, whispered words out on the track serving to stoke her need yet higher. It didn’t even matter to her anymore that Derek was there. As long as she could feel her husband’s hands on her once more, to know that he still loved her, still needed her.
Anything was possible, if she still had his love.
Lino pointed at her, his gaze turning hard. “You obey. Anything they want, you give.”
Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.
“Thank God you guys, I don’t know if—”
Kurt laid two fingers across her lips, his gaze filled with a wolf’s predatory gleam. “You keep quiet now, you know the rules.”
Oh, shit.
“Jesus, Kurt.” Derek leaned back against the stall wall behind him, a foot against the wood. “The dude’s gone. She can talk, can’t she?”
“She’s not supposed to, and she knows it.” Kurt drew her close, looking down upon her. “Besides, we have something we’re supposed to … address.”
She wasn’t sure where her husband was going with this, but looking up into his eyes, she was sure she didn’t care as long as he fucked her. Breanna needed to feel him, that renewal of their connection that was strained every time they were apart, even for a short time. She watched Derek push himself from the wall, his brow furrowed. She liked how protective of her he seemed, even with her own husband there with them. That feeling of being shielded, cosseted, even cherished by these two strong men spoke to her, both tugging at her heart … and making her pussy wet.
“What is it we’re supposed to be doing, Kurt?” The lower hem of Derek’s shirt pulled up as he scrubbed his hands through his sandy hair, giving her just a glimpse of a tanned, tight belly. She’d always thought the man was attractive, with his sort of rangy, rough-around-the-edges charm, but now that she’d had a chance to observe him closely, she’d decided he’d moved into full-on beautiful territory.
Kurt grasped her elbow and spun her around, making her yelp in surprise. “She’s due a punishment, just like the man said.”
“You — you’re serious? That’s what that little whack on the ass was for right?”
She already knew the answer, though she’d be damned if she was going to give voice to it.
“Oh no, that was just a little reminder to behave.” Kurt’s hands squeezed her shoulders. “Bend over that bar, Breanna.”
“I thought it was supposed to be ‘B’,” Kurt snarked from behind her. It startled her that showing her naked ass to the man no longer seemed to even discomfit her anymore. In fact, judging by the growing heat between her thighs, it caused rather a different sort of reaction in her now.
“Shut up and grab those straps, asshole.” Kurt pushed her over, his pressure gentle but steady. “Bend at the waist, girl. No, keep your thighs together.”
She felt like a clumsy oaf in the heavy boots, the leather straps around her calves just beginning to chafe her skin. The straw rustled as she obeyed, the boots knocking together with a sound disconcertingly like horse’s hooves. Without the use of her hands, she feared toppling over, but with the help of Kurt’s steadying hands, she found her balance. Unfortunately, she had to thrust her ass back in what felt to her like an obscene pantomime of sexual invitation.
And you’re trying to tell yourself that it’s not an invitation? Who are you kidding?
“Ah, very nice.” She could hear the grin in Kurt’s deep voice, and she dropped her head. It shot up again as a hand smacked her bottom harshly, fresh heat radiating across her skin. “Love her ass. Always have. What do you think, Derek?”
She knew Kurt was looking back at his friend, and the blush fired across her face. She heard Derek step closer, then hands working at the straps immobilizing her arms. “I think she needs a breather, dude. Her shoulders have gotta be killing her.”
Kurt’s hands squeezed her shoulder, then left her. “Derek, you’re a good man. Already taking care of your prize.”
Prize? What am I? A fucking party favor?
The bliss of being able to move her arms again wiped all thoughts from her mind, and she rested her hands on the rough timber of the bar that stretched across the rear of the stall. Her breasts throbbed, gravity and the not inconsiderable constriction of the harness’ straps conspiring to make her hyper-aware of her hanging breasts.
“Shuffle your feet further forward, Breanna,” Kurt said, his voice thick, a hand tapping her hip. “That’s it. Show us that ass now.”
She obeyed, her body jackknifed now over that bar, her head lower than her hips, her bottom on full display. She could feel the air against her exposed sex, embarrassed at the wetness she knew must be clearly visible there.
“These boots are great for this, really gets her up high doesn’t it?” The glee in Kurt’s voice made her lower her head again. She knew he enjoyed looking at her, but she didn’t realize he enjoyed displaying her quite this much. Her body betrayed her though, despite her embarrassment — or
perhaps because of the embarrassment.
The harness finally loosened its grip on her arms, and hands roughly massaged her shoulders. Her arm was lifted out to her side, and she moved to stand.
“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.
