by Trent Evans
Lino’s hands traced the pattern of the leather harness, his fingertips stroking the exposed flesh of her belly between the straps. Then his hands found her breasts, grasping them firmly, with a workmanlike efficiency borne of a familiarity with her body that startled Derek … and irritated him.
She’s not really yours, asshole, so stop it.
“Big breasts.” Lino turned his head, leering back at him. “We may love them, but they get in the way. She is healthy, but these must be … secured. Out of the way.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I don’t agree with,” Kurt said. “I don’t think her tits should ever be ‘out of the way’. Why would I — we — want that?”
Derek had to admit: he wondered the same thing. He’d happily have her prancing about with bare breasts 24/7 if it were up to him. He shook his head, embarrassed at the heat he felt at his own cheeks. So much, so very much was wrong with these thoughts he was having.
Should’ve thought about that before tumbling the rest of the way down the rabbit hole, Alice.
Lino shook his head. “You don’t understand. You do not cover them — no, you secure them. Part of her display is to show off those tits. This is non-negotiable. But that display must also be functional.”
“I know I’m gonna regret asking this,” Derek said, scratching his forehead. “But I don’t understand? Secure them?”
“Yes.” Lino grasped each globe in a hand right at the base. “You secure them, so that they don’t bounce all around like this.” He shook each vulnerable breast in his hands, Derek mesmerized by their swing. He wanted his hands to be Lino’s. God, did he.
“What if I want them to bounce around?” Kurt shrugged. “I like seeing her tits move.”
Breanna looked down, blushing to the roots of her blonde hair.
Lino winked at Kurt, dropping her breasts, then tapping each one to send it swaying. “Don’t we all? And there may be times for that, yes? But when she is running, they will distract her, slow her down.” Lino looked to Derek. “They will be very sore after a race too, unless you secure them. Unless you like that too?”
Yes.
Derek tried to stuff that thought down deep, into a place where it would never come back out. “Why will she be running? You’ve said that a few times already. What are you talking about, Lino?”
“You will see tomorrow, Mr. Derek.” Lino turned back toward the bound woman. “We are not done here though.”
“Told ya,” Kurt muttered. “Just watch, this is good.”
Lino turned Breanna until she faced away from them. Derek could see the leather straps tied off at the back of her head, their tightness making him fear that the bit was rather uncomfortable indeed. Her long hair was disheveled, locks of it caught in the strapping. Lino’s palm caressed the long neck, and his hands moved over the harness, tugging on a buckle here, smoothing a strap there. He clasped her narrow waist in both hands, Breanna freezing as he did.
“Look at these. She has an ass yes?” Lino smacked it, sending her buttocks juddering. He chortled, glancing at Kurt. “You’ve taught her that much then, yes?”
“She knows to keep them loose.” Kurt’s eyes grew flinty with lust. “She’d get a lot worse if she clenched. She’s a good girl.”
“Not too good we hope,” Lino murmured, kneading her buttocks in both hands. He stepped back, waving Derek over. “What am I doing? You must learn! Come, feel them.”
Derek looked over at Kurt, questioning.
“Dude, are you kidding? You’re gonna be doing a helluva lot more than feeling her up.” Kurt jerked a thumb toward her. “Get over there.”
Many things a man imagines when watching the sway of curvy hips, the movement of a nice, round ass. Few times, if ever, does a man get to make those imaginings real. Yet here he stood looking down upon the surprisingly round, well-fleshed ass of Breanna. Though her build was trim, athletic, her ass was made for … enjoyment.
Christ, man we’ve gone into full on objectification here, haven’t we?
He didn’t care anymore if he did. His cock was so hard it throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart, as painful as it was wonderful. He grasped both of her buttocks, letting out a quiet sigh at the feel of her in his hands. God, how he’d wanted to do this, how he’d imagined how she’d feel — but knowing he’d never get the chance, would never act on it if he did.
Yet, here he was.
Her skin was so soft, her flesh pliant, vulnerable. As he squeezed — noting with a selfish pleasure that she didn’t shy away from his touch — he could feel the musculature there, the strength in her buttocks.
“This is the center of her power, the part of her that most matters for what she’ll become.” Lino moved close, his voice softening, the tones almost reverent. “It’s here you will punish her when she’s failed you, these buttocks. You will watch them as she pulls, see the power she must exert to obey the reigns, the sting of your lash. This is the ass you will look upon as she obediently bends for you late in the night, performing her last, but most important, service for her Lord and Master. Taking you deep inside her, surrendering herself in all ways. This is the center of her, the core of what she will become for you.”
“Told you he was good,” Kurt said, moving in to stand next to them. He reached out, running the back of his knuckles down her arm, soothing. “Shh, it’s okay, girl. Just gettin’ the lay of the land. They’re not going to hurt you.”
Suddenly, things felt wrong, and Derek let go of her. He should have been the one to comfort her. The thought that he was the one scaring her … he wasn’t sure what he thought of that. It bothered him, but he couldn’t really put a finger on exactly why.
This was voluntary. She hadn’t been forced into this. Hell, she even seemed to like him squeezing her ass. But it just wasn’t right that her husband was comforting her while he plundered her charms for his selfish benefit.
“What is it?” Kurt nodded toward him. “You okay?”
“I just—” Derek backed away, still not able to peel his eyes from the pleasing curves of her ass “—this doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry.”
The groan from Kurt made Derek want to punch him in the mouth. “Look, Derek. Don’t be a pussy. You ever heard of not looking a gift horse in the mouth?”
“I’m not some goddamned charity case, man. You invited me here, remember?”
Kurt grabbed his arm. “That’s not what this is about. Yeah, we invited you here, but—” Kurt’s eyes met his, and he realized he’d screwed this up “—this shit’s hard enough as it is. Just try to roll with this.”
If it were possible, Derek would’ve kicked his own ass. Not only was he acting like a fucking pussy, what he’d seen in Kurt’s eyes was worse.
He’d hurt the guy.
In some weird way, Derek pushing away had upset Kurt. Yes, it was twisted, and bizarre, but he knew it almost felt like a rejection of the guy’s wife. Derek knew he was a clumsy oaf, but he was stumbling through this situation with even less finesse than he usually mustered.
Dipshit. Time to fucking man up here. There are guys who’d kill to be in this sitch.
“Kurt, I’m sorry. I’m being stupid, I know.” He grunted. “I should be jumping for fucking joy, and here I am nervous as hell.”
Kurt inclined his head. “Makes two of us, partner.”
Breanna stirred, mumbling something against her bit, her feet scrabbling against the floor. Lino patted her back, shushing her. Lino sighed. “I think this is good time to stop then.”
Both men looked at Lino. “What?”
Lino placed a hand on Breanna’s hip, stroking it gently. “Tomorrow we begin. You leave her now, and I will prepare her for tomorrow. You will need sleep. Go now.”
Kurt tilted his head, folding his arms over his chest. “And what’s happening tomorrow?”
“Her training begins.”
Chapter Eleven
The sound of the door closing felt like the sealing of a tomb. There
she sat, in a tiny room, four walls, a cot, and a single light. The place smelled strongly of freshly cut wood, and the flat, yet acrid odor of the camp lantern which served as the sole source of illumination.
If watching Kurt and Derek leave her in that barn, alone with Lino, had been the single hardest part of the night for her, the slamming of that door, the metal of the bolt skreeing in its carriage as it was drawn, ran a very close second.
Led from the barn by the humiliating pull of the leash, to an outbuilding she’d never seen before, Lino had ensconced her in one of three rooms — little more than cells, really. He’d not said a single word to her the entire time. When she’d tried to speak, he’d placed a finger to his lips, his hand playing with the jet-black crop hanging from his belt. Her words had died on her tongue.
At least he’d unbound her arms — her shoulders already stiffening — before he’d left. She suspected they’d feel a lot worse tomorrow. Lying back on the cot, she curled the pitiful thin blanket around her naked form. Somehow, the little room had been heated, though she suspected that as the cold night wore on, that might change.
She had so many questions, so much she wanted to learn. What would be done with her? Would she see her husband again during her Term? Surely, she’d see Derek — he’d bought her after all. Maybe Kurt would be with him?
The thought of both men in that room with her, standing over her naked form as she gazed up at them, made her belly coil, her breath quicken. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the whole thing, the outrageous nature of what had been done to her, and to the other women. All of it lent an air of intensity to everything, her nerves, her senses, her perception crackling with alertness. Every creak of the building, every muffled sound from somewhere outside drawing her attention, sending her mind awhirl at possibilities, fears … desires.
Being strung up in front of all three of them, their hands on her body. It had been almost too much to bear. She’d found new depths of mortification, and the shock of realization that that very thing might somehow be what she might want, a need deep within her soul that she may not have been conscious of, but which had always made its presence felt. Like the gravitational pull of the collapsed star hiding within a black hole, this need was there but she couldn’t see it (or didn’t have the courage to), yet its power was plain — and immense.
The collar was snug, the alien feel of it clasping her neck at once galling and fascinating. She’s always wondered what one felt like, what its presence signified, but she’d never had the courage to broach the subject. Not sure herself what it meant to her, she felt her pulse thump against its grip, its immovable presence something she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to get used to it.
Turning down the lantern, she turned to her side, thankful that the blanket, though thin, was large enough to cover her whole body. Faint, ghostly starlight filtered in from the tiny, barred window high on one wall, the freedom outside the steel bars taunting her. Tension thrummed through her body, and she willed herself to relax as much as she could. Soon, surprisingly, the heavy weight of fatigue seeped into her bones, slowing her blood, fogging her mind. She was relieved, for she knew she’d need her sleep for whatever came tomorrow.
As she thought back on what Lino had meant by sulkies, tracks, and running, the black blissfulness of sleep took her away.
* * *
Squinting against the blazing morning sun, she shivered as the cold breeze left her exposed skin covered in goose flesh, tightening the tips of her constrained breasts into obscene, jutting bullets. The harness was so tight at her lower belly she said a silent prayer of thanks that Lino had allowed her to use the toilet before dragging her from the outbuilding into that frigid morning air. The harness clasped her ribs in such a grip that every breath felt like a strained gasp; she stood stock still, if for no other reason than to preserve what little oxygen the cruel harness allowed her to breathe in. Straps of thick, yet soft leather criss-crossed between her breasts in a figure eight pattern, constraining the generous globes, squeezing them such that they stood up on her chest, the skin tight, her blood throbbing within the remorseless grip of their embrace. She didn’t even want to think about what she looked like.
Worse than the straps, worse even than the terrible harness, were the boots. Heavy black leather, the soles raised into almost a wedge, forcing most of her weight onto the balls of her feet. Straps ran up from her ankles, clasping her lower legs the way a serpent might squeeze its prey. There was only one positive thing about the horrid boots: she was tall.
She towered well over six feet in them, and the sight of Lino at less than eye level was such a shock that she’d done a double-take. The boots made her feel ten feet tall!
The long, thin whip teased the bright pink tips of her nipples, the urge to protect her blatantly displayed breasts so strong, that she pulled involuntarily at the straps holding her arms securely behind her back.
“Stop that,” Lino said. “You will stand. Still. You will make Lino proud.”
The only thing she wanted to make Lino do was collapse to the ground from a swift kick to the breadbasket. But as she eyed that whip, the stiff leather playing over her breasts, she stilled, knowing that a mere flick of his wrist could be agony.
“That is better, fulana.” Lino moved behind her, his hands checking the tightness of the harness straps at her back. “Soon, they’ll be here. Can you imagine? What they see? These tetas, so tight. Do they hurt?”
She lowered her head, biting her lower lip, her vision filled with the curves of her vulnerable breasts.
Don’t say anything. Don’t do it, idiot. He wants an excuse to use that whip.
“I know they do,” he murmured, with a chuckle. “That’s good. You will get used to it, fulana. You’ll have no choice.”
She firmed her chin, raised her head, and stared straight ahead, fixating on a lone soaring Ponderosa pine far off in the distance. Taking his bait was not happening, at least not yet. The bastard would have to do better — or worse — than that.
“Yes, here we are,” Lino said, tapping her shoulder with the whip. “Face your masters now, fulana. Let them see you.”
She turned at the direction of the whip until the morning sun shone right into her eyes, making her squint again. They stood on the flat, hard packed earth on the oval dirt track at the back of Kurt’s property. She remembered seeing the heavy earth mover out here, plowing up the sagebrush under, smoothing the earth, huge clouds of dust swirling in the whipping wind, the bright white of the railing being put up around the perimeter. She’d asked Kurt at the time what the track was for.
“For horses, I guess,” he’d said. She’d noted the uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he’d said it, but hadn’t pursued it further. Looking around her now, she considered that perhaps she might’ve been better served by being more curious.
Then once more, her husband and Derek stood before her, and again she felt the heat of her blush suffuse her cheeks. Hadn’t they already seen everything she had to show? So why was she reacting this way?
Derek’s eyes had dark circles below them, her eyes quickly taking in the way his white t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, how the breeze plastered the fabric to his lean, defined abdominals. Her husband was wearing the paddock boots he favored on his property, his snug jeans making it extremely difficult to keep her eyes up where they belonged.
He’s your husband, Breanna. What are you talking about?
Somehow though, it felt almost … out of line for her to be ogling her husband’s physique, as if it were a breach of some unspoken protocol.
Lino joined the two men. “First lesson. You give command, filly obeys.” Lino waved his hand toward the track behind her. “Run.”
“Wha …” Lino’s jaw clenched and she bit back the word.
Lino’s smile chilled her even more than the wind. “When the mare or filly does not listen, you make her listen.”
Breanna’s
belly clenched, her mouth drying up. He didn’t really mean …
Lino reversed his whip and presented its braided leather handle to Derek.
“What the fuck am I doing with this?” Derek’s eyes darted from her to Kurt. Her husband clasped his arms over his chest, his expression stony. “I’m not whipping her.”
Lino shook his head. “She is yours. But if you wish to make her what she can become, you must train her. A filly must know who holds the reins. Always.”
Derek switched the whip from hand to hand, as if it might be hot. Then he took up the handle, his eyes avoiding hers.
Lino stepped forward, jabbing a finger between her fettered breasts. “Turn. Present to your Master.”
Breath escaped her lungs, her muscles unable to move, her body paralyzed by shock. Her nipples gathered into even harder points, throbbing in the rasp of the cold breeze.
Lino glanced at Derek, his gaze sharp. “Well?”
Derek’s eyes met hers, and in those depths, she saw the words he couldn’t say. Swallowing hard, she shuffled around, a puff of dust rising into the breeze.
You’re really doing this?
She had no clue what she was doing here, what her existence had become, but the warmth, and lust, and … concern she saw in Derek’s eyes gave her the courage to forge ahead.
“Now,” Lino said from behind her, clearing his throat. “When a filly disobeys him, the Master corrects her. She must learn consequences, learn obedience. This is her lot now. Do it.”
Oh God, Breanna!
The whip struck her, stinging, its surprising weight lifting her buttocks, sending them juddering. But the cry that escaped her lips faded into a confused sound.
“No, no. Not like this,” Lino said. “Much harder. She must feel.”
“Well, sue me asshole. It’s not like I’ve got experience whipping a girl’s ass.”
Breanna bit her lip to keep from laughing. She liked him, liked the way he fought against this, even in the smallest of ways. Even though she knew — judging from the mouthwatering bulges she’d seen between both Derek’s and Kurt’s legs — what her predicament was doing to those men.