by Trent Evans
The feeling came again, like that of being a teenager, of pure, overpowering lust, flowing through his veins. Whatever strange power this place had, he knew he was nearly lost to it, and increasingly, he didn’t want to fight it anymore. Sometimes good things … just happened. Once in awhile, fortune smiles on a man plagued with more than his share of shitty luck.
As he watched Lino call Breanna to a halt and unhook her from the chain, he wondered just when his good luck would finally run out.
Lino brought her over to them, his finger hooked in the thick hook where the chain had been attached to her collar. Her head hung down, and her chest heaved even within the cruel confines of the harness. Dust was caked to her long legs, the fronts of her thighs marked with a stray pink line from a whip tip that had wrapped around from the back. Derek took in the alluring curves of her breasts as they rose and fell before them, the pink tips hard, prominent.
Lino stroked one of the nipples, making her shudder, then looked to both men in turn. “Enough for today. Time to clean her up — and to show you next part of your duties.”
Kurt and Derek glanced at each other. “Duties?”
Her haunted eyes looked up through the fringe of her hair, her mouth open as she breathed in great gusts of air.
“Your work not done just because hers is.” Lino tweaked her nipple, then led her stumbling, exhausted form to the exit gate. “You are her grooms now. And there is much more to learn.”
Chapter Eighteen
She didn’t fully realize how exhausted she was until her arms were hoisted overhead once more. They’d taken her to another room — this time in the new outbuilding next to the track. Most of it was tiled in white, the smell of new paint, grout, and plaster still strong. They’d stood her in the middle of the room. A drain was in the center of the floor, the tiles sloping gently toward it. Sweat poured off her body in the close, humid space.
Behind her was a long ledge, spanning the width of the entire room, jutted from the back wall at approximately waist height, it too covered in flat white tile. Winches were bolted to the ledge at either end, chain and leather dangling menacingly from the machinery. Above, a long shelf of stained wood overflowed with various bottles, brushes, hoses and small packages. In the far corner were other pieces of equipment, the shadows shrouding it preventing her from making out any detail. A gleaming metal shower assembly with several attachments was mounted to the wall at one end of the ledge.
As she stood there, the manacles around her wrists attached to a chain threaded through a hook in the ceiling, Lino worked at the harness, unsnapping straps, loosening ties, steadily lessening the harness’ cruel grip on her body.
“This is very important.” Lino turned his back to her, and addressed Derek and Kurt. “Filly must be kept clean after her work or training. Before anything else, she must be cleaned.”
Filly?
Lino turned and pulled the harness completely from her body, shaking her slightly as he did. The feel of fresh air on her bare skin was heaven, despite the stifling humidity.
He unsnapped the heavy collar, and though she welcomed the bliss of air circulating against the skin of her neck once more, something about the collar being taken away felt … off.
The thought disturbed her in a way she wasn't sure she could conceptualize. At least not yet. In the recesses of her consciousness, the meaning lurked, just out of reach, like memory on the tip of the tongue that refuses to be recalled. A ghost in your mind — something there, yet not there.
Then she found out why the room was tiled. The spray hit her back in a hard, thin line. At first she couldn't tell whether it was too hot or too cold, but she cried out regardless, the shock of it too much to bear.
"Shh. Only warm water." Lino's hand stroked her wet shoulder. "Be still now."
She watched the men watching her, the glint in their eyes plain, the clenched jaws, the way their shirts strained over powerful shoulders, and muscular chests. The water played over the tight muscles of her upper back first, and soon she acclimated, her skin breaking out in tingling goose bumps as the jet found new flesh to soak, to massage.
"Ahh, God … ” She knew it would likely get her in trouble, but it felt too good to keep quiet about it.
"Can you believe this?" Derek's eyes glanced from her body to Kurt, then back to her again, drinking in her nudity, her helplessness.
Oddly, that helplessness — at least now — didn't bother her as much. Nothing bothered her as long as that heavenly water kept washing over her body.
Soon the spray reached the stiff muscles of her lower back, and loitered there, coursing over them repeatedly, until she sagged in her bonds, the soft cuffs taking her weight for a moment.
Lino's hand squeezed her upper arm firmly. "Stand up. Don't hang."
“Why?” she whispered, the tone of her voice embarrassingly plaintive. What was left of her strength seemed to be washing down the drain with that lovely warm water, and she simply didn’t have the energy to keep up her facade of stoicism.
"Your wrists. Up, fulana." He slapped her breast, and she jerked, getting her feet back under herself once more. "That's good."
"I could watch this ... forever," Kurt murmured, his eyes hooded, his strong jaw clenching.
Heat stirred in her sex at the sight, at the words. Being wanted, especially by Kurt, never failed. She wanted to be desired, even if it was a rough, possessive desire. Maybe even more so because of it.
Kurt's eyes scanned her body, never once meeting her gaze. At any other time, it might have irritated her; here, in this place, she expected it. She was her body, here. She was here for them, to give them pleasure — whether it was to fuck her whenever the urge took them, or to take the pleasure of watching her breasts bounce as she ran on the track, finding a dark joy in her subjugation. It made no sense to her that such a thing turned her on — and oh Christ, did it — but here, with these two amazing men, with this cruel, implacable trainer, nothing needed to make sense.
Here there was only submission, surrender — and lust.
"Turn her, Lino." Derek waved a hand, his reluctance apparently gone now. "I want to see her ass."
Lino's chuckle, soft and evil, made her tremble, even as her clit stood up, throbbing, her sex growing hotter by the second.
He didn't ask her to turn, rather he grasped her shoulder and spun her — so fast she almost lost her balance, the bonds at her hands the only thing preventing her from falling over, her breasts swinging on her chest. She was momentarily thankful they couldn't see them, even as she worried about what they could see now.
It didn't matter how many compliments Kurt gave her. It didn't matter that Derek, whose handsomeness was rapidly soaring into the stratosphere, had specifically wanted to see her ass. Maybe he wanted to see it because he knew she was shy about it? Maybe he reveled in her embarrassment, her shame at buttocks that, no matter how many countless hours she spent in the gym, were never as small, never as trim as she'd wanted. Could he actually enjoy that? Take pleasure in her mortification? The thought itself should have horrified her — maybe it would have in any other context — but now, things were murkier. Confused. The idea that he'd be turned on, would derive sexual pleasure from her embarrassment, even her humiliation ... did something to her. She knew the Term would involve plenty of humiliation — the auction itself saw to that — but she thought she'd been ready for it. Being exposed to others, forced to show her naked body, had forever been a dark, twisted fantasy of hers, but it was always centered on her feelings, her thoughts, and her desires.
That a man might be excited by it, that he might force her to experience more, maybe even worse humiliation, was unexpected — and strangely, surprisingly alluring.
To be turned on because he was. It confused her, but instinctively, she wanted to see where it went, to discover if she had the courage to follow the path he and Kurt seemed eager to make her walk.
The stream of water attacked her vulnerable buttocks, and she tensed with a h
iss at the shock of pain every time the water sprayed over her still surprisingly sore ass. The earlier spanking from her husband, as wonderful as it was, as much as it made her pussy drip, had been a hard one indeed. And the amount of pain awoken in her flesh by mere water told her all she needed to know about how her ass was likely to feel for the next few days.
The thought of that pain, that he’d given that to her quite intentionally, made her womb clench, an uncoiling beginning deep in her belly.
“You wailed on her ass, dude,” Derek said, with a laugh. “Save some for the rest of us.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Kurt’s voice said. “Now you’re seeing it. Now you’re feeling it.”
A hand palmed her left asscheek, squeezing gently, making her wince. “Very sore, Mr. Kurt. I have something for this after.”
“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, Breann
a. 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.”
