by Trent Evans
“You stay where you are,” her said, his tone at once demanding and gentle.
She obeyed, laying back on the cool comforter, the fatigue of what had happened just now stealing through her, weighing her down with it.
Both men stood at either side of the bed’s foot board, their gazes traveling up and down her body, a smile playing at Kurt’s lips, Derek for once giving her the unreadable, almost cool regard she usually associated with her strict, implacable husband.
“Take off your clothes, girl.” Kurt leaned his muscled shoulder against one of the bedposts. “Do it slow so we can watch you.”
“The top first, Breanna,” Derek said, crossing his arms. “Then get on your hands and knees, facing us.”
She shed her sweater so fast she heard a tearing sound as she ripped it over her head, throwing it to the floor. Kurt smiled then, and gave her a nod, indicating the bra should go too. She rose to her knees, knowing they’d approve, and unclasped the lace, letting it fall away, her nipples tightening instantly. She reached up under her hair, but Derek shook his head, pointing down.
“Down, just like we told you. Hands and knees.”
The heat flared in her cheeks as she looked up at them feeling the weight of her breasts swaying below her.
“God, I love those nipples.” Derek said, his hand stroking the length of his cock through his jeans. He reached down, clasping both tender buds between his fingers, pinching and pulling them into aching hardness. “There that’s better. These should always be hard for us, Breanna. Always.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, lowering her eyes, her nipples so hard now they throbbed. She wanted those cruel fingers to pinch them more, to hurt them, to claim them as theirs, just as the rest of her was. Her pussy tightened, slickness gathering between swelling labia, her clit as erect as her nipples now.
“Look at us,” Kurt said, an edge to his voice. “Let us look at you, girl.”
They regarded her in silence, Derek walking around to one side then back as if evaluating the merchandise at an auction.
“Now the rest of it,” Kurt rumbled, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. Just the sight of him doing that had her sex nearly dripping, anticipating what was to come.
Rising to her knees, Kurt helped her off the bed to stand before them. She unbuttoned her jeans, shimming out of their tight embrace. As she moved them down Derek shook his head.
“Turn around and bend at the waist when you do that. That’s a standing rule from now on. Don’t forget it.”
Oh God …
Facing away from them she pushed her jeans down her legs.
“Slower than that,” Kurt barked. A flare of pain bloomed across her ass as Kurt’s big hand smacked her, hard. The pain just made her wish they’d bend her over that mattress and spank her ass red.
Her hands tangled in the jeans bunched around her ankles, legs together, she held the position, knowing what she must look like, the hot heat of her embarrassment only making her pussy wetter.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Step out of them now,” Kurt said behind her, his hands steadying her hips.
Complying quickly, she hooked thumbs into her panties, but a big hand laid over her bottom stopped her.
“Wait.” Kurt pulled her upright again, spinning her, her breasts swinging wildly, her hair loose over her face. The bedsprings moved behind her and Derek joined Kurt again in front of her. He submerged a hand in her hair, pulling the curls away from her eyes, his thumb stroking her chin. Kurt sat down on the foot of the bed behind her, spreading his thighs and pulling her between his legs. She heard his zipper lower, and Kurt clasped her hips in a strong grip, the burning, hard shaft of his cock touching her thigh. She closed her eyes, feeling a hot bead of slickness slip down between her legs, her panties soaked. A hand lifted her chin and she opened her eyes. Derek’s hazel eyes had gone flinty, possessive lust firing in that gaze now.
“Now, you’re gonna take down those panties slow, just like we taught you. You’ll give Kurt a nice close view of that big, round ass of yours, won’t you?”
She sucked in a breath, the curling deep in her belly making her want to moan.
Derek tapped her cheek with his hand. “Do it now, Breanna. Be a good girl.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Bending slowly, she could feel Kurt’s breath against her skin. She looked up, her head level with Derek’s waist, his hand stroking the bulge of his genitals, just inches away. A fingertip eased along the seam of her pussy, investigating the sodden folds within. Then two thick fingers pressed deep, spreading her, and she moaned.
“Christ, she’s wet,” Kurt said, his voice thick with lust. “Smells so good.”
Breanna swallowed down a shamed whimper, slipping her panties off one foot then the other, remaining bent, waiting for the orders that both mortified and aroused her.
This is what you wanted, Breanna. To be theirs. Completely.
She smiled to herself as a tear tracked down her nose. It was all true. There was no more hiding from these men, and most of all, no more hiding from herself and what she needed.
Kurt’s hand smoothed over her hip, squeezing her buttocks, his touch brusque, proprietary.
“Her marks have faded.” Fingers investigated the still tender tracks left by the crop and the whip during the race. She knew she’d see stark bruises across her buttocks tomorrow, and she knew she’d stare at them with pride in the morning, her pussy clenching with need as she remembered who put those marks upon her body.
“Now,” Derek growled above her, his hand touching her hair once more. “I want you to turn around, put your knees on that mattress and put Kurt’s cock inside you. Do it slowly, gently. Squeeze as you take him. Make him feel every inch of that wet cunt of yours as you do it.”
Rising, she met Derek’s gaze for just a moment, but it was enough. The possessive lust was still there, but there was something else too, something else she couldn’t put a finger on. She didn’t have time to contemplate it though, for his fist clenched in her hair, and he turned around to face her husband. She cried out at the sharp slap Derek laid across her ass.
“Get to it, girl.”
Kurt fisted his big penis, the broad head glistening with fluid her tongue longed to taste. She lowered herself onto him, grasping him by the shoulders to balance, and let go a long, ragged sigh as his cock sank deep into her, his thickness making her take it slow, even though her pussy dripped for him.
“Look at me, girl,” Kurt said, his voice gravelly. She met his beautiful dark eyes as she seated her hips fully upon him, her pussy fit to bursting. He surged up into her, pulling her close, taking her mouth with his. She moaned repeatedly into his mouth as he thrust her up and down upon him, her pussy, her whole body reduced to just a pleasure object for his cock.
Kurt let her go with a sharp nip to her lower lip, his eyes bright. “When you were gone, when he took you, all I could think about was getting you back, how I hated him for stealing an hour, a minute, a second away from you.” He thrust hard several times, his cock battering her cervix with a pleasure/pain that had her crying out, her head thrown back. His teeth scored the tender skin at the hollow of her throat as he pounded into her, growling against her skin. “But that will never happen … again … Breanna. I’m never letting you go. You’re mine, forever. Mine, Breanna.”
Derek’s hand caught her hair once more and he twisted her head around, kissing her hard, his fevered lips hot, searching, plundering her mouth just as her husband’s cock plundered her cunt.
Oh God! More!
“Anytime I see you with anyone but us, Breanna, it’s agony. Kurt and I, we see it the same — you’re only for us. This mouth, this cunt, this body, all of it. Only ours.”
“Yes, Sir! Oh God, yes …”
Derek grasped her arms, pinning them tightly behind her back, Kurt’s grip on her hips tightening, his fingers reaching back to spread her buttocks wide. She knew what Derek could see then, and for the first t
ime felt no shame at her exposure. It was all for them, all of her, and she didn’t need to feel shame anymore because she loved it so, loved being theirs, subject to their lusts, their possessiveness, and most of all, their love.
Cold wetness was spread along the crevice of buttocks, more of it swirled around her anus. Derek’s finger pressed, softly at first, then more insistently.
“Open, open now,” he whispered behind her ear.
Then his finger slipped inside, and she gasped softly as he worked her, relaxing the muscle, awakening those nerve endings and those forbidden, confusing sensations, all the while Kurt’s cock relentlessly thrusting within the spasming clutch of her sex. His breathing grew heavier as she bounced up and down upon him, her heavy breasts swaying, her throbbing nipples crying out for the crush of lips, fingers, teeth.
Derek’s cock pressed to her anus, the pressure steady, insistent. She pressed back, relaxing that muscle, willing him inside her, where she most wanted, where she’d be one with them, the common vessel, the shared treasure. She wanted to be all that and more for them. And as Derek pressed forward, his cock deep within her ass, she cried out at the truth of it.
Ah God, so much. Too much!
Yet she’d gladly have died at that moment, as her men filled her so full, she feared she might split. They worked her between them, a woman reduced to an object of their lusts, the one place they could be who they really were inside, be that male animal that yearned to be unleashed. Their thrusts picked up speed, until they were ferocious shaking her to her core, and her pussy spasmed and her ass burned. Her orgasm built, closer and closer as her men used her as a woman was made to be used. Derek’s hands clasped onto her shoulders painfully, pulling himself even deeper into her bottom, Kurt’s hands a crushing grip on her hips, her clit grinding against him with each brutal thrust.
“Now, Breanna,” Kurt growled. “Come for us!”
The explosion of pleasure ripped up through her body, tears pouring forth as she spiraled higher and higher, the riot of sensation too much for her consciousness to contain. She threw her head back with a long, soul-deep moan, her vision graying out. The sodden weight of her hair draped over Derek as he pounded into her, roaring his pleasure, his seed blooming hot deep within her. His final hard thrusts, shook Breanna’s body as if she were a mere doll, a toy, and that last movement set off Kurt as well, his hands gripping her hips so hard she groaned with the pain of it. His orgasm shook all three of them together as his hips bucked up into her over and over, his grinding groan going on and on as he poured himself into her, their combined fluids soaking their thighs.
They fell forward onto Kurt, Breanna sprawled between them, her head and arm draped across Kurt’s broad, sweat-slicked chest, Derek’s big body curled around behind her, his still half-erect penis a wet, comforting presence against her soft bottom. Deep, satisfied sounds rumbled from Kurt’s throat as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling under her. Breanna’s senses were numbed, the warm, heavy cloak of exhaustion wrapping tight around her. Derek’s inchoate whispers in her ear made her smile deliriously, his lips and tongue tasting her earlobe, the soft flesh behind her jaw. They lay that way for a long while, Breanna luxuriating in being close to her men, surrounded by them, drifting in and out of consciousness. Her men weren’t done with her that night though, for soon she found herself wakened by rough, demanding hands, those low, male voices rumbling. For hours more they used her, showing her what was possible when a woman laid with two men who knew a woman’s body, and what it was made for, what it could endure.
Crouched on bending knees, her arms bound behind her she’d served her husband with her mouth, her long hair wrapped about his fist like a rein, the SLAT-SLAT-SLAT sound of the flogger deafening as Derek beat its burning tattoo of pain across her soft, vulnerable buttocks. She’d lost track of time, waking in the night as big hands gathered up her breasts, squeezing them harshly as yet another hard cock slid deep between sore, swollen labia, their voices telling her to squeeze, to spread her buttocks for them.
To surrender.
Finally, their lusts slaked within her trembling, spent body, their seed dripping from her cleft onto her welted thighs, and soaking the rumpled, sweaty sheets, their bodies stilled. One by one, they drifted off to sleep, Derek first, his breathing growing deep and slow, Breanna still wrapped in those strong, muscled arms of his. Before sleep fully claimed her though, Kurt pulled her close, cupping her face in his big hands, and pressing a long, soft kiss to her forehead.
“I love you, wife. And I always will.”
He’d never let her go, and he’d always keep her safe. He was the one who’d opened all the doors, who’d showed her what was possible, who’d let her live a dream — and then made it come true. All roads led back to this strong, strict, amazing man. And he was all hers.
“I love you too,” she whispered, meeting his heated dark gaze with a sly smile. “Master.”
Then she slept, and dreamed, secure in the solid embrace of her Sir and her Master. She woke several times turning to one or the other, snuggling into hard chests, curling her leg over muscular buttocks.
Morning came too soon, the gray light of another Seattle morning slanting across the bed, and she turned over to hug Derek close, if only for a few minutes more. But where her strong Sir’s gorgeous body had been, she found only cool, rumpled sheets.
He was gone.
* * *
Breanna stood straight and tall in the burning afternoon sun, the breeze moving the strands of her hair against her cheek. The girth’s brutal embrace seemed to squeeze her into two parts, the upper part with her naked breasts and bitted mouth, a feast for the male onlookers, the lower part weighed down, tasked with her duty, her use. To pull her cart, as fast as her legs, her fear, and the lash could drive her. The cart she’d been hitched to was a new one, two seats, side by side, the sight of it filling her with anticipation.
It had to be. Yes, it just had to be.
Elaina was with her, at her side, bound fast to her own cart, red ribbons tied into her long hair, her bit cruelly tight, Lino lounging in the cart behind her, playing the end of the carriage whip against her pale, trembling thighs.
Breanna scanned the edge of the track nearest the parking lot, watching the corner of the barn, where she hoped to see two men come striding toward her. Her men.
Her heart swelled with the possibility, even as her mind told her what she’d come to accept as the truth.
He might not come.
The night they’d rescued her, she’d ridden back to Seattle curled in Derek’s arms as Kurt drove, the vibration of the road and Derek’s strong steady heartbeat lulling her to sleep.
It had seemed so magical, that dark night of lust they’d shared, their marks upon her, both physical and emotional. It had seemed so … perfect.
But then the morning had come.
A day became a week, and then became a month, and he’d not come back.
Breanna had called, she’d texted, she’d e-mailed. Yet still he hadn’t come back.
“Give him time,” Kurt had whispered to her as she’d lain in their bed, her head resting on his chest, her tears wetting his shirt. “It’s got to be on his terms, in his time, Breanna.”
If she’d understood that on an intellectual level, her heart hadn’t listened. More than once, she’d pounded on his door, yelling for him. Telling him he was stupid to let this pass him by. How many times had she cursed the closed door?
Finally, the terrifying thought no longer a quiet voice whispering in her ear, but indeed a truth now staring her in the face, she’d slipped the note under his door. She’d lingered on his steps that day, dragging out every second, hoping that door would open, that he’d come bounding up those steps.
But he hadn’t, and all she was left with, a fading hope, would have to do. Driving back to Kurt, to her loving, patient, strict Master, she’d recited the words from that letter, over and over, as if the mantra would impart the power to them
to bring Derek to her, to bring him to them, to open that door just one last time:
Sir,
I’ve missed you.
Kurt and I will be at the farm this Saturday at noon. Kurt says my training needs to begin again, but he wants you there to do it. To make sure it’s right. To make sure we’re right.
If you’re not there, then I’ll have my answer.
How I’ve missed you.
Always Yours,
Breanna
Now, as the wind moaned low in her ears, she watched the corner of that barn, wanting, willing, hoping. George stood down at the fence along the edge of the track, his intent gaze ever watching his Elaina. She thought of Quinton then, still seeing his smug grin, his clownish bloodstained grin. She closed her eyes tight, banishing him from her thoughts. He was nothing, and he’d remain that to her.
All that mattered was them, her Master and her Sir.
Please, God. Please. I need …
Then she saw it, saw movement.
Kurt walked around the corner, his stride long and confident, as always. She looked hard, knowing he was just behind him. He had to be.
But as Kurt made his way over to George, the realization sunk in, finally.
He hadn’t come.
No.
The tears welled, threatening to spill as she watched Kurt talk with George, the two shaking hands.
Why, Derek? Why?
Breanna wished the bit were between her teeth rather than dangling from her bridle. The taste of the metal would have been preferable to the taste of the smile she forced, while inside, she was falling apart.
“Hello, girl,” Kurt said, standing before her, his dark gaze intent, searching. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Master,” her voice broke. “I — I don’t know if I can.”
“Sure you can.” Her husband beamed a smile at her that had her heart racing, that beautiful smile he so rarely let anyone see.
“I hoped, and I knew.” Breanna dropped her head, her eyes stinging. “I was so stupid. To think…I don’t know how I’m going to do this now.”
