Her Troika (24 page)

“Time to check her responses.” Lino looked at Derek, then dropped his gaze pointedly lower. “Then you need another … break.”

Chapter Twenty

E
very part that made her feminine throbbed with the oil. Her clit felt as if it had swollen to many times its normal size, the sensitivity off the charts. They'd even applied the oil to her anus, and it too throbbed, pulsing with a disconcerting combination of tingling and warmth. In truth, all it made her want to do was keep her legs wide apart, the over-sensitized flesh seeming to react to even the air itself. She didn't know how she'd be able to handle it if they so much as
touched
her.

Yet touch her they were definitely about to do.

She groaned as they finally, fully released her limbs from the remorseless pull of the winches. When the winches had pinioned her limbs she'd been terrified, imagining all manner of horrible things should they allow the chains to pull too far. Just the thought made her shudder.

Her husband's eyes kept coming back to hers as they released the chains from the cuffs clasping her wrists and ankles. He smiled at her. "Okay, up with you, girl. Time for our reward."

Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her breathing. Normally, the prospect of Kurt fucking her would have had her practically panting, her pussy dripping. Now, she was seriously concerned that his thick cock spreading her inflamed flesh, plunging deep, claiming her … was likely to kill her. Yet, as overwhelmed as she was by the effects of the oil, her clit stood up, hard, almost begging to be touched, no matter if that touch was likely to be agony. Her nipples were hard as stone. Her pussy had grown soft, awash in her own fluids, a trickle of it regularly escaping from between slick lips. Though she feared what came next, her body, with its own selfish, seemingly self-destructive needs, craved it.

“Put her over,” Lino instructed Kurt and Derek as they helped her off the ledge, the floor cold against her feet. She loved being held by them both, even if just for those few moments, feeling the strength of their hands on her flesh, the understated scent of Kurt’s cologne, the raw power that radiated from both big male bodies. Though she’d felt tall all of her life, sometimes awkwardly so, next to these two men, she felt comfortingly feminine, almost petite. She wasn’t used to it, but she knew she could get used to it fast.

The trestle loomed, the straps hanging from it like waiting serpents, patiently waiting to embrace her flesh. Their hands guided her against it, the cool leather against her hips, pressing across her pubis. One of their hands caressed her back, the gentleness of the touch something she desperately savored, like a desert flower drinking up the rain.

“It’s okay, Breanna.” It was Derek, his voice rougher, the deep tones soaked in arousal. “Just lay down for us.”

Blood pounded in her temples as she laid herself along the narrow, padded bench, the incline leaving her head lower than her hips, her hair hanging about her face. Her breasts hung freely, vulnerable, on either side of the narrow bench, her oiled nipples throbbing anew as the blood concentrated in the tips. Kurt came around to the front, grasping her hands and pulling each one down toward the floor. She jerked at the loud clicks as he locked clasps to her cuffs, securing her arms to ring bolts in the boards below her.

She looked up at Kurt as much as her position allowed, her hair partially obscuring her vision, a lock of it catching in the corner of her mouth. His grin beamed at her a moment then his gaze moved beyond her. “Pull her hair back.”

Hands gathered up the weight of her hair, twining it together and pulling it back, the ends of her hair tickling her ass. They secured her hair somehow, the tug on her scalp gentle but insistent, the pull keeping her head up off the bench.

Lino stepped into view in front of her, kneeling down on one knee. The light in his eyes shined like icicles on a frigid, moonlit night. “We will test you,
fulana
. Then you will give service to your Masters. Do you understand?”

Forgetting the remorseless gag for a moment, she tried to answer, to tell him yes. God yes, whatever would cure the burning, incessant throbbing of her sex, even now the oil making her push her hips back in an effort to open up the tissues — or entice the men to relieve her misery with their hard cocks.

“I don’t know what the hell’s in that oil,” Derek said behind her, pleasure in his voice. “But I like what it’s doing.”

“Yes, it is working then. Fillies come to crave the oil, the attention of their Masters. This is how it should be.” Lino caught her gaze again. “Have you come before,
fulana
?”

Jesus, was he kidding? She nodded vigorously.

Lino chuckled. “I do not think she understands.”

Kurt caressed her cheek with a rough knuckle. “No, I’ve never made her squirt—”

Squirt? Oh, fuck. No way …

“—but I’d love to try.” Kurt’s fingers traced her lower lip, compressed as it was by the cruel gag. “What do you think of that, Breanna? Do you want to come?”

She grunted, trying to enunciate against the gag even as she knew it was hopeless. She’d never done it before. She’d known other women who had, of course, but it had been something of a disappointment to her that she couldn’t. Something she thought made her almost … not complete. Deficient, even?

“I’ll take that as a yes, girl.”

No! Yes! Oh God, are they really going to do this?

Kurt stood so close to her, the fabric of his pants just tickled the end of her nose. She could feel the weight of his gaze upon her, and she craned her head up as much as her position allowed. Alas, she couldn’t, contenting herself with taking in the way his clothes accentuated the lines of his body, the well-defined muscles of his thighs, the width of his shoulders.

His finger stroked up and down her temple, his deep voice somewhere far above her. “You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you? You’ll let Derek touch you. You’re going to come on his fingers, and then you’re going to thank him for it.”

Her cheeks burned, even as her womb clenched at the imagery his words elicited.

Kurt’s fingers grew hard as steel, twisting a fistful of her hair. “And then we’ll decide if you deserve to be fucked again.”

“Each filly is different,” she heard Lino say as he stood and moved out of her line of sight. “You must get feel for each one, Mr. Derek. What she likes, what she fears.”

Her neck was already protesting the way she tried to meet Kurt’s gaze, but still she looked up at him, seeing the way his zipper strained behind the bulge of his erection, mere inches from her lips.

Hands spread her buttocks wide, the air cool on her exposed cleft, her anus clenching in fear. A calloused finger played with it, swirling around the entrance to her bottom.

“God, so fucking beautiful,” Derek said softly. She froze, feeling his warm breath on her flesh.

So close!

The finger nudged just inside the throbbing muscles of her anus, startling her. She futilely pushed against the trestle, trying to get away. “She looks untried, yes? May be difficult, at first,” Lino said. “Many owners prefer their fillies to run with plugs in, some like to use tails also.”

“Tails?” It was Derek, voicing the same question on her own, gag impeded lips.

“Yes, like tail for
potra
, Mr. Derek. Long length of hair attached to thick plug. Some owners do not let fillies run until their plugs are in. Very beautiful.”

The finger was taken away a moment, then she flinched as cool lubricant was spread over her anus, the fingertip pushing for entry once more, slick with the lubricant. She groaned as the finger slipped inside, pushing deep until the hard knuckles pressed firmly against the inner curves of her buttocks. “Do you wish to use her here, Mr. Kurt?”

She strained to look up at her husband again at the deep rumble of his chuckle.

“I don’t know,” Kurt said, with a hum. “Derek, what do you say? Should we use her there?”

“What kind of fucking question is that?” A hand squeezed her bottom hard, possessively.

“
Si
, Lino,” Kurt said, laughing. “Very much,
si
.”

“She must be stretched, Mr. Kurt. It is very tight.”

Then her buttocks were released, the finger pulling from her bottom too abruptly, making her whine at the burn.

The lips of her soaked, burning sex were eased apart, opening it to those male gazes. She struggled against the bonds securing her wrists, reflexively lifting a leg to try to protect herself.

“Easy now, Breanna,” Derek said, a hand patting her bottom. “It’s okay. Let us look now. We’re not going to hurt you. Let us make it feel good. I know your pussy is burning.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his words. Derek had changed so much. Gone was the reticence that had both endeared him to her and frustrated her. Now, he was … someone to be obeyed. Someone who might take her to that dark, vulnerable place she’d always savored with Kurt.

Only now, it would have a different flavor, a new spice, with this man. She looked forward to it, even though she feared where it might lead — and what she might find out about herself when she got there.

“Obey him, Breanna. There’s nothing you can do, no way to stop him. He’s going to touch that pussy, feel how wet it is for him. Stop thinking and let go. Obey us — that’s all you need to worry about.” She winced at the pull of Kurt’s hand at her hair, and she nodded as best she could, wishing his legs were close enough to at least touch with her lips, to feel the hard muscles of his thighs against her face.

She gasped against her gag as two long fingers plunged deep into her sex, then pressed downward.

“That’s it,” Lino said, as the fingers stroked back out, pressing the whole time. “Keep up the stimulation on her tissues, in and out. Firmly.”

“Jesus, her pussy’s a fucking lake,” Derek said, his voice almost a whisper. “Soo wet. That’s it, Breanna. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

Her thighs shook as he plunged and retreated again, each time stroking downward, a finger circling a clit grown so sensitive, the stimulation was on the knife’s edge of spilling over into pain. Soon he’d kindled sensations she wasn’t familiar with, a sort of hot weight, deep within her sex, her clit almost burning, the swollen lips of her sex feeling as if they might be glowing with the heat.

“You will feel like you will wet yourself,
fulana
. Let it go, when it comes. Push out when you feel this.”

Derek’s fingers stroked faster and faster, shaking her now as he plunged and retreated. Her hips rolled as he worked her, the pressure, the unbearable pleasure building within her, the fingertip fluttering against her clitoris making her moan.

“Just let it happen, girl,” Kurt’s voice rumbled. “Let us see how much you come. Do it now. We won’t stop until you do, we’ll keep at you all night until you’re screaming with it. Come for him.”

Her scream against the rubber of her gag was one of fright, confusion, a soul-deep ecstasy as that hot weight sunk lower. Then Derek’s fingers curled, pressing inside just right, and she bucked, feeling a spurt of moisture sprinkle down the backs of her thighs.

“That is it! See that? Keep at her, Mr. Derek.”

The long fingers pistoned fast now within her sex, other fingertips circling her impossibly erect clit, her whole body shaking with tension now, her muscles taut, her breath rasping through her nose.

Oh God! Oh God!

“Now, Breanna,” Derek growled. “Give it to me. Show us now.”

A firm press downward of knowing fingers and she shrieked, her world drowning in a white haze as she came, an explosion of pleasure radiating from her violently clenching womb. Lost in ecstasy, she was only partially aware of the shocking amount of moisture she felt spurting forth, the coos of the men, a hand smacking the wobbling cheeks of her bottom.

“Good girl,” Kurt murmured, his hand softening, smoothing a palm over her cheek. “Keep going, now. There’s more, and we want to see it.”

Derek’s fingers kept at her, and she writhed against her bonds, her nerves so stimulated now it was a confusing mixture of pain and mind-blowing pleasure. All too soon, as she shrieked against her gag, and she spurted more of her fluid over Derek’s fingers. She didn’t know how to process the swirling overload of sensation, lust, shame, joy, fear, the explosive physical pleasure, nerves screaming as their pathways maxed out.

And then they did it again.

As they forced her over into her third screaming explosion of sensory overload, she keened steadily against her gag, her head spinning, vision hazy. Her pussy dominated all awareness now, her clit singing its own distinct, delirious tune as her sex spasmed over and over, squeezing the long digits stroking remorselessly within her.

No more, oh fuck, no more! I want this to last forever! God, I need this!

“Very good,
fulana
. I am proud. Very, very good.”

It shouldn’t have even been a consideration with her — a normal person would’ve hated the cruel trainer by now — but somehow knowing she’d pleased even him, met his impossibly high standards … it
mattered
.