by Trent Evans
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.
She’d been careful not to be too eager, too quick to assent to the idea, but she’d made it clear what her desires were, what she wanted to explore. She just wasn’t sure what would happen once she crossed that Rubicon of the auction, and the irrevocable Term of Service, the mere thought of which left her fearful and fascinated.
“Bring her here,” Lino said.
Her arms were released, and she closed her eyes, her head lolling back against a strong, muscled chest. “Almost done now, girl,” Derek’s voice said, a new fondness in the tone she quite liked. “Here, let’s help you. Kurt, grab that side.”
“She’s so tired,” Kurt said, hauling up on her other arm, laying it across the hard cords of muscle across his back, the fabric of his shirt pressed to the side of her breast. They half walked, half dragged her over to the tiled table formed by the ledge at the rear of the room. “Maybe we should—”
“No, this is normal, Mr. Kurt. Lay her down.”
She tensed as the fronts of her thighs pressed to the cold tile of the ledge. Several bottles, a mirror, brushes of various sizes, and what appeared to be thin strips of leather had been laid neatly on a stainless steel tray at one end of the ledge. Lino pulled the cuffs straight from each winch assembly, the chains glinting in the warm light. His finger caressed the soft leather of one of the cuffs.
Then Lino’s eyes met hers, and her blood ran cold. “Time for inspection, fulana.”
Chapter Nineteen
Derek almost forgot to breathe as he took in the sight before him. Breanna’s beautiful body stretched along the tiled ledge. He loved her legs — among other things — and in that position, they looked a mile long. Kurt secured the padded leather cuffs around her ankles, her feet fidgeting nervously.
As Lino pulled her arms up behind her head, and wrapped the cuffs around her wrists, her body began to tremble, her nostrils flaring. Her eyes widened, darting from Derek down to her husband and back again.
Derek frowned. “Check her cuffs, guys.” He caught her eyes, and gave her a smile. “Nod if you’re hurting anywhere.”
Breanna looked up at him, her blue eyes luminous, moist, but she didn’t indicate she was hurting.
She’s probably going to be hurting shortly if Lino gets his way.
A faint humming sounded from one winch then the other as Lino flipped a switch on each motor. Breanna’s trembling grew, and Derek stroked her thigh. He’d stay with her, stay visible so she didn’t panic. He knew he was probably being an overprotective douche thinking such a thing — she was one tough chick, this surreal weekend only further confirming his opinion on that — but he wanted to be near, to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone, that she had her men there to protect her.
Her men? You’re not hers, and she’s not yours. Don’t forget it.
He was encouraged to see Kurt lean a hip against the tile, staying close too. His friend’s gaze darkened a moment, so quick he wondered if he’d imagined it, then Kurt caressed her cheek, too quickly, his fingers shaking slightly as his thumb stroked Breanna’s brow.
Derek knew she needed her husband here, even more than she needed Derek — he could see it in the way her eyes followed her husband wherever he went. Was he still really just an interloper here, playacting at something she really only needed from her husband?
Her teeth dug into her gag, and she shook a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes, her gaze meeting Derek’s. He flicked a glance at Kurt, wondering if he saw the same thing.
“Wait. Take the gag off for a minute.” Kurt reached under the still-wet hair at her nape. “ I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“No, Mr. Kurt.” Lino crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles under his olive skin rippling with tension. His eyes glittered, the thick eyebrows knitting together.
“Why the hell not?” Derek pulled the heavy weight of her hair up as Kurt loosened the straps, pulling the rubber from between her teeth.
Her jaw flexed a moment, her pink tongue darting out to lick away
the saliva pooled along her lower lip. Giving both of them a quick smile, she laid her head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m okay, I just … scared for a second.” Her eyes closed, and her chest rose and fell several times, Derek feeling a flash of sheepishness at the pleasure he took watching the languid movement of her breasts.
“I’m sorry,” she said, a tightness in her voice, her fingers clenching into fists above the stricture of the thick cuffs. “I — I can do this.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you want the gag off, Lino?” Derek’s heart rate picked up, the tension building in his arms.
“She must become used to the gag.” Lino’s sharp gaze fixated on both men in turn. “This is part of training. Her opinions do not matter here. You command, she obeys.” Lino’s hand slashed the air. “That’s it.”
“We need to figure out something else then, because what if she were hurt?” Derek looked down at her pointedly. “I’ll be damned if I’m gonna hurt her — or let her be hurt.”
Kurt’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “She’s been gagged before. She snaps her fingers if she’s hurting.”
“Well … shit.” Derek combed fingers through his hair. “I feel like an asshole now.”
“Don’t,” Kurt said, smiling. “Your instincts were right. I could tell something was up, but I knew she wouldn’t do anything about it. So I made the decision for her.”
What?
“She’d just — go on, hurting? Freaking out?” He looked at her again. “To do what? Prove some kind of point?”
Her eyes slid away, her mouth curving into a frown.
“It’s not … look, Derek—”
Lino started to speak, and Kurt held up a hand.
“Derek, I don’t think you know this.” Kurt grunted, shaking his head. “Shit, no reason why you would, really. Some subs, or slaves, they won’t say anything, even if they’re suffering. It’s hard to explain. It’s like a point of pride with them. To prove how tough they are. It’s one of the incredible things about them, actually.” His gaze sobered. “But it’s a double-edged sword. If they get in too deep, too far gone—”
“Too deep? I don’t get it.” Then his gaze fixated on Breanna’s long nipples, the pink tips so hard they looked like they could cut glass. Or diamonds. “Jesus — turned on. That’s it, right?”
“Yeah, it’s — it’s one of the things you need to watch for. If they get too far-gone, sometimes they might not be the best … judges. So you’ve got to be that judge for them.” Kurt shrugged. “Look, I probably should have told you about this, but it’s hard to remember everything that might be new to you. I’m hoping you’ll be able to catch on as we go, you know?”
Lino sighed, testing the tautness of the chains attached to her arms , extending them in a straight, tense line back along the ledge.
“You guys — you two. You’ve been together a long time.” Derek watched her as he spoke, wondered what those swollen lips would feel like against his own, her mouth softened by the cruel stretching of the gag. “I’m not gonna be able to pick up on this shit by osmosis.”
“You’re right. It’s stupid of me not to have realized that.” Kurt leaned over, bringing his face close to hers. “I don’t want you pushing it. If you’re hurting, scared, whatever — you let us know. Snap those fingers if you have to. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
Kurt brushed a quick kiss across the tip of her nose before straightening, and her eyes closed once more, a single tear tracking down her cheek. Then she fixed her intense blue eyes upon Derek, her mouth quirking ever so slightly into a smile, despite the clownish red marks left on her mouth by the straps of the gag.
Lino pressed the gag to her lips. “Open.”
She obeyed, and he silenced her once more, jostling her head slightly as he refastened the straps. Her breathing quickened almost immediately, but she looked calm otherwise.
Yeah, as calm as someone can be when they’re about to be stretched like some sort of medieval interrogation.
Had he really grown so callous already, that he’d barely noticed it? Had it all started to seem expected, even normal?
“If you wish me to instruct you as trainers—” Lino’s hand swept over her form. “—if you want her to turn out correct, then you must listen. You must do as I say.”
Derek opened his mouth, about to tell Lino just what the fuck he thought of that idea. A quick shake of Kurt’s head stopped him though. “Just roll with this, remember? I won’t let her be hurt.” Kurt looked down a moment. “That’s why you’re … ”
With a flick of Lino’s finger, the winches hummed back into life, both pulling until her limbs grew taut, inching them further until her body tensed, then backing off slightly. Breanna gasped, her head slowly waving from side to side.
“Calm, fulana. Only a little pull.” Lino rotated two mechanical bars down onto the chains of each winch, fitting pins through a link of each chain, preventing them from retracting further. “They will pull no further.”
It was wrong for him to be turned on by this — he knew it on a sort of intellectual Derek-is-a-good-and-decent-boy level. But the sight of her stretched, her nipples reaching for the sky, her plump, naked sex tucked between trembling, straining thighs, her rapid, nervous breathing — all of it touched a place within him, a side of himself he’d not really known he’d possessed. As much as it turned him on, it scared him in equal measure. That moment of realization, that discovery that he wasn’t the “good boy” he’d always imagined himself being … shook him.
“Come, feel her.” Lino beckoned, standing back from the winch at her feet to let them draw closer.
“Christ, this feels like when I used to play with my sister’s dolls,” Kurt murmured, smoothing his palm over Breanna’s tight, trembling belly. “Sis probably wondered why her dolls were naked and contorted like gymnasts.”
“Fucking perv,” Derek said, with a laugh, even though he did the exact same thing as a kid. Maybe kink was hardwired after all?
So, you’re kinky now, is that it? More like sick.
It was her voice saying it then, his ex wife. The same wounded, horrified tone in her voice that even now made his stomach twist. He could still see the way her lips trembled as she told him to get out, called him a fucking deviant, told him he’d betrayed her. How could he have told her what he really wanted though? Had he known all along — maybe somewhere deep inside he’d known — that she’d react that way?
He shook himself, willing away the pain that felt just as fresh as the day those terrible words had been spoken.
“First thing.” Lino stepped close to Breanna, laying his hands on her ankles. “Look for marks, bruises, anything. She relies on her trainers, her grooms, to make sure she is safe.”
“So whipping her ass is making sure she’s safe?” Derek shrugged. “This is confusing for my small brain.”
“Dipshit,” Kurt said, with a grin.
“Yes, you are making her safe, Mr. Derek.” Lino’s gaze flashed. “What you think will happen when she’s pulling a cart, with you — what is this word — meatheads in it? Your whip, and her obedience to whip, will keep her safe. You don’t understand. But you will.”
“Cart? What are you talking about?”
“He’ll get to that.” Kurt shoved his shoulder. “Pay attention, goddammit.”
They watched Lino’s hands stroke, knead, rub. He touched every inch of skin he could reach, her tension — despite the tightness of her bonds — lessening as he worked on her.
“See here.” Lino indicated the lines impressed in her flesh just above her pubis, and below her breasts. “This is harness. You will be tightening this, so she must endure more. She will get used to this. But you must help her — skin will be painful at first. Now is time to help her get through.”
“Her muscles. Very sore, very tired.” Lino’s finger pointed at her thighs. “Here is where we must be careful with her. Here is where she will be very sore from running.”
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Lino reached over to the tray, picking up a round, dark bottle. He gazed down at Breanna as he charged his palms with the white cream. The scent of it was distinct, faintly medicinal, but not unpleasant. “This will help,” he murmured as his fingers spread the glistening cream over her thighs. She jerked once, then relaxed as he rubbed more of it in.
Derek wished, oh how he wished, that those were his hands. What would he give for some quiet time, alone with her. Nothing impeding him, no distractions — just exploring her beautiful body. It was something to hope for in the future — something he realized he hadn’t been doing much of lately.
Hoping.
“This will warm muscles, help her recover.” Lino’s hands caressed her flesh, Breanna letting out a soft moan as his fingers moved to the inner thighs, edging closer and closer to her sex. Derek found himself leaning closer, rapt. Lino squeezed out more cream, working it into every muscle group he could reach, her smooth belly, thighs, shoulders and calves soon glistening with it. Her breathing had picked up another notch, but her eyes had closed, her lips loose over the gag.
“Nothing for the areas that count?” Kurt’s grin was broad, with a lecherous lift to one dark brow.
Lino’s mouth quirked. “Soon. Help me turn her.”
He lifted the safety bars and flipped on the winches once more, making Breanna yelp. But rather than stretch her further, he loosened the chains. She sighed as her limbs relaxed, her fingers and toes flexing. Lino stood a moment, watching her, squeezing one of her toes gently between thumb and forefinger.
“Wha—” Derek swallowed down a hard lump in his throat, wishing he could do something about the hard cock between his legs “—what are you doing?”
“When fillies are bound strictly, you must check circulation. Muy importante.”
Derek enjoyed every second of contact with her slick, trembling flesh as they turned her over, the feeling of handling her as if she were a toy eliciting a pure, selfish pleasure within him.
