Her Troika (35 page)

“Mmm, wet I think.” His fingers slipped between hot, slippery labia, testing the depths. “Yes, very wet. Just like I like you.”

Spreading her moisture over the soft petals of her cunt, he stroked more of it down the perineum, swirling wetness around the dark whorl of her anus. Her cheeks tried to tighten, and he smacked her twice, the hard glows making her grunt. “No way. Open them.”

Slowly, she obeyed, and he paused to spread the cheeks wide, fully exposing the entirety of her cleft. “Getting a little stubble here, don’t you think? You’ll need to shave better than this. Maybe I’ll need to help you with that, Breanna?”

Her blonde head dropped with a tiny sob. “Yes, Sir.”

Finger circling the delicate flesh of her anus, she tensed, though she kept herself from clenching. He caressed the warm, pink of her buttocks. “Getting there, but we’re not done yet.”

“Wait—”

Smacks, slow, deliberate ones rang out at regular intervals, her hips beginning to squirm as the toll of the hard blows began to tell, the heat in her soft, vulnerable flesh rising by the moment. Soon, she was crying out at each smack, her bottom weaving, moving, trying anything to assuage the pain. He held her tight, growling at her to be still, and smacked the same spot — where her bottom met her thighs— repeatedly, her keening rising an octave at each successive spank. He marched blows down the kicking smoothness of her thighs, her cries filling the darkened room, her heels coming up, his barked command to drop them only reluctantly obeyed, for which he gave her two harsh smacks across the fleshiest part of her bottom.

He wasn’t sure what it is he was looking for, what he needed from this. All he knew was that having her over his lap, her ass vulnerable to anything he cared to do with it, spoke to him on an elemental level, a blend of possession and sadism and control rising up with him in a way that he wasn’t sure how to handle.

So he didn’t. He just let it be, tried to accept it.

He stilled, his hand circling the deep red, swollen flesh of her buttocks, her sniffles just audible between great gusts of her breath. The sound shook him, even as it made his cock even harder, and he shook his head. “Shh, it’s okay now. All done with your spanking, Breanna.”

As he stroked the burning flesh of her swollen bottom, he eased the cheeks apart once more, dipping his finger into the glistening pussy. He paused to breathe in the incredible scent of her, as he stirred her up, his finger pushing hard and deep several times, curling against her the way he knew she loved.

Pressing the soaked fingertip against her bottomhole, she sucked in a breath, holding it.

“It’s okay, you can do this. Just push back on me, Breanna.” He eased the finger inside, her muscles tight, but yielding enough to allow him deeper. “That’s a girl. Loosen it, loosen it. There!”

He pushed in firmly, his knuckles against the hot, soft flesh of the base of her buttocks. Then taking up a gentle thrusting, he cooed to her. “Good girl! Good, just relax now. Ahh fuck, I could do this forever.”

His cock throbbed angrily, her naked hip writhing against it, not helping matters one bit. He thrust deeper, turning his finger within the hot clutch of her bottom, the tip curling, and she gasped, her body rigid

“Oh God, that’s so good. Soo good,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

Derek leaned over her, planting a kiss on her upper back. “One day soon it’s going to be my cock in here, Breanna. It’ll be a tight fit, but you’ll take me anyway. All of me.”

She shuddered, a sound coming from deep in her throat as he thrust more vigorously, pushing as far as he could go. He wanted to fuck her ass right now, make her cry out as he stretched that little ring hard around his cock, pushing deep. Taking her.

But he couldn’t wait any longer — he needed to be inside that pussy, to feel the velvet clutch, the heat of her as he took her. With a surprised noise from Breanna, he slipped his finger from her bottom , wiping it on her trembling, well-marked thigh. “Get on the bed, hands and knees,” he said, his voice thick. “Put those tits on the mattress and lay your arms on the bed.”

He moved her off his lap, watching her obey, her eyes darting to him once, then lowering again. He squeezed her poor, flaming bottom as she brushed past him. He turned, stroking the rounded perfection of her hip, patting it possessively. “Reach for the headboard. Stretch, Breanna.”

His hand squeezed her flesh. “Good girl.”

Taking a moment, he stood back, drinking in the incredible sight of her glistening, reddened cunt peeping from between trembling, well-punished thighs, the roundness of her bottom fair glowing from her spanking.

“That pussy is positively
gushing
, slut. You must’ve liked your spanking.”

A muffled whimper from Breanna had him laying a palm on her hip. “Well? Did you?”

“Yes, Sir,” her voice nearly breaking.

“Get those legs together, that’s enough showing off that cunt.”

His finger traced the long black stiletto heels. He loved the way they huddled together beneath her waiting, punished bottom, the one item he allowed her to wear somehow making her seem even more naked, more vulnerable.

“Those heels are fucking hot on you, Breanna. I’m surprised Kurt doesn’t have you in these things twenty four seven.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

How he loved to hear that word, uttered in those quiet, soft tones of surrender.

His Breanna.

She’s not yours, idiot. Stop torturing yourself.

For tonight anyway, he’d pretend it was true.

Unable to resist himself, he plunged two fingers deep, deep into her wet sex. “You must like pain, Breanna. That clit of yours is standing up strong and hard. Jesus.”

She began to breathe in pants as he worked a third into her, the long, thick fingers stretching her.

“Let’s see if I can get you to come again. Squirt all over my hands.” She yelped as he thrust into her even more roughly. “Yes, come on girl. I want to see you gushing.”

Her hips waved away at that, and he smacked her ass, hard. “No. Stay still.”

“Please,” she moaned. “No…”

“Yes, Breanna.” He leaned over her, laying an arm casually across the small of her back, the thrust of his fingers making wet sounds within her pussy. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Oh God, YES.”

“Then you’re going to be a good girl for me.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her still, and pressed a quick kiss to her hip. “As soon as you squirt over my fingers, then I might decide to fuck you. Not before.”

“No!”

“Yes, Breanna,” he said, grinning to himself, curling his fingers within the dripping sex, working his knuckles against the swollen spot within. “Come on, girl. I know you want to. Just let go now.”

For a few moments, there was nothing but the sounds of his fingers working her relentlessly, her strained moans and gasped pleas. Then he felt her go stiff once more, her cries becoming desperate, and he worked that spot all the harder, not letting up one bit.

“Fuck! Oh God, ahh God!!”

“Thaaat’s it. Good!”, he cooed as she burst over his fingers, moisture spraying up his wrist as she screamed.

“I can’t! I can’t! No — please!”

“Yes, you can. Another.” He turned his knuckles against that spot again, her desperate, hoarse cry in response making him work her even harder. “Almost there. I want another, Breanna. Give it to me.”

She pleaded repeatedly as he worked her up again, relentless, ignoring the burning ache in his wrist and fingers. Her hips waved wildly, her pussy clamping his fingers over and over, then with a lost, urgent groan, she went over again, hard shudders rolling through her body, her sex soaking him once more. “Ohh, such a good girl, Breanna!” He leaned over her, kissing her between the shoulder blades, yanking up her head by the hair and wrenching it to the side so he could kiss and nibble her lips, taste the salt of the tears on her cheeks.

His fingers pulled out with a wet sound, the rich scent of her sex filling the room. Working her clit with his soaking fingers, she begged him to stop, to leave it alone. Too sensitive, too much.

Feverishly he worked at his fly, freeing his aching cock, the heavy shaft slapping down onto her deep red bottom. With two fingers, he splayed her labia wide, sinking into her with one smooth stroke, his cock butting up against her womb, drawing a gasp from Breanna.

“That hurt?” he clasped her waist in his hands, settling his hips tight against her, his cock deep within her.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Want me to stop?” His hips rotated against her.

“No, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he said, with a grin. “Now, put your head down in those pillows.”

With that he took up a hard, punishing thrusting, savoring the way her soft bottom pressed to his belly at each deep plunge, the heat of her skin a stark contrast to the coolness of his taut belly. His fingers searched under her, finding the hard nodule of her desire, working it mercilessly, as relentless as his hard thrusts. With shocking swiftness, she cried out, the muscles of her body going rigid, her voice rough with desire, her hair flying about as her head waved wildly.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he growled between clenched teeth, each word accompanied by a punishing thrust, Breanna moaning at the last one.

Then his climax boiled upward from the base of his testicles, and he groaned with it as he came, spurting deep within her, repeatedly, his hips rocking against her each time, his hands cruelly tight about her waist.

He fell upon her then, turning her over onto her back, kissing her savagely, tasting her neck, her chest, her nipples, holding her hands against the mattress above her as his mouth roamed over all that was his, licking, sucking, and biting her nipples until she writhed beneath him again.

“Breanna, Breanna,” he whispered between tastes of her flesh, his tongue laving each impossibly hard nipple in turn, savoring her.

“Yours,” she breathed, moaning beneath him, laid bare for him, letting him have it all.

Mine. Ours.

Finally, the storm within him broke, and he sprawled across the mattress, breathing in great gusts of air, his chest working like a bellows, sweat pouring from him. He gathered her into his arms then, her soft buttocks pressed to his wet genitals. Kissing the softness of her golden hair, he squeezed her close, their bodies one, heartbeats slowing, post-orgasmic lassitude sapping the urgency from their muscles.

He laid with her all through the night, dozing off and on, waking at one point to the feel of her soft buttocks grinding against his rapidly hardening cock. He made her raise her leg, draping it over his, and he slipped within her once more, the slow, languid thrusts lasting a lifetime, the dark room quiet save her soft murmurs, the sounds of his shaft working within the liquid heat of her sex, the friction of her skin against his, until with a quiet shudder, he filled her once more.

Then sleep took them both.

He woke, much later, the scent of her sex still on the air, light from the morning sun slanting through the blinds just enough to rouse him. The beautiful woman lay next to him, still lost to slumber, her arms and legs entwined about him, her lustrous blonde hair everywhere.

Carefully extricating himself from her embrace, he placed a gentle kiss on soft red lips, and slipped out, stumbling down the hall to the kitchen.

Three huge cups of coffee sat on the table, the steam dancing in the morning sunlight.

“Derek, we’ve got a problem,” Kurt’s deep voice rumbled. He sat, legs crossed casually at the kitchen table, the stubble dark at his jaw, his gray eyes sober. His fingers drummed on the gouged wood of the tabletop.

Derek sat down, rubbing at his eyes, knowing this was coming. This talk had to come sooner or later. A sinking sadness gripped him at the realization that it had to end this way. But resigned to it, knowing it had to happen, he nodded. “Yeah. Past time we talked about this—”.

“Quinton Trask has reserved her for an overnight loan.”

“Who?”

“
Our
Breanna.” Kurt’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing. “That little shit’s reserved her for a twenty four hour period at the farm … and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Chapter Twenty Seven

"A
h! Too much!"

"Breathe in, Elaina. More."

George cinched the corset one notch further, tying off the broad leather strap. He'd had a new harness fashioned, and wanted to see how it fit his wife. She hadn't been running for the better part of two years, and though he rigorously enforced her physical fitness, he knew that being away from the track that long might mean she'd need to be whipped back into racing shape. He savored the prospect.

"I think that works, no?" He stepped back, looking her up and down. The corset clutched her abdomen in a brutal embrace, exaggerating Elaina's already generous curves into something truly dramatic.

"I can hardly ... breathe," she panted, her breasts bursting out from the top of the corset, sitting upon the top edge of it like a shelf. Her nipples were hard, the wide coral areolas tightened fetchingly.