Her Troika (The Complete Story) (Dominion Trust Book 2)

by Trent Evans

  “Now you sit, and see,” Lino said to Derek, pointing at the cart.

  “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

  “Just do it, pussy.” Kurt’s smile made Derek want to smack it off his face.

  Derek shot Kurt a sharp look then climbed in, shaking his head. “Okay, now wha—”

  He found himself eye level with Breanna’s gorgeous ass, and whatever words he’d intended to speak died upon his lips, utterly meaningless in comparison to the beautiful, bound woman standing a mere arm’s length from him. The cruel grip of the harness made her round buttocks swell even more, and he longed to run his fingers down the faint pink marks left by the carriage whip.

  The dark, thin line of the saddle strap plunged between those mouthwatering cheeks, disappearing into the swollen folds of the shaven sex he could just make out between her legs.

  He could see the faint trembling of her thighs, and wondered if it was from fatigue, or perhaps nervousness at having him sitting so close behind her, fully exposed to him, a front row seat to her degradation.

  Lino’s whip played against her buttocks, stroking the curve of her hip. “Now, kneel, fulana.”

  She sank down, the traces following her at first, but then she stopped, seeming to almost float in place. Lino tapped her under her thighs and she lifted them, suspending herself by the anchors attaching her harness to the traces.

  “How the fu…?”

  Lino grinned. “Cart has counterweight — you.”

  “Fat ass,” Kurt muttered from behind him.

  Derek’s arm shot up, middle finger extended.

  Lino’s grin brightened. “As long as you — or Mr. Kurt — are in cart, she cannot fall.” His whip menaced her once more, stroking slowly up between the cheeks of her bottom. “But you must train her hard. She must pull, always. Filly must fear your whip as much as your disappointment.”

  The Spaniard plucked the riding crop from the holder attached to Derek’s seat. “Only use this when she needs. You must be careful.” Then he waved the carriage whip. “This is for direction, for training. Filly will come to know whip well, to obey without thinking.”

  He pressed the whip into Derek’s hand. “Take her out.”

  “What? I don’t—”

  “She will know,” Lino said, with a nod. “She has ears. She has a chocho. She has fantasies. Give it to her.”

  He craned his head back toward Kurt. His friend just inclined his head, a crooked smile creasing his weathered features.

  Derek looked back at the waiting buttocks, so vulnerable, the urge to whip them, to make her cry out, so strong it shocked him for a moment. He took a deep breath as Lino stepped away from the cart.

  “Remember, use whip, and reins,” Lino said. “She does not need words — once you have trained her.”

  What in the blue fuck am I doing?

  The carriage whip was surprisingly light in his hand, the weight all in the grip, and he flicked her buttocks with it. She jerked in her harness, paused a moment, then leaned forward, pulling. It was then that Derek realized the cart was much heavier than it looked. He definitely wasn’t the only counterweight in case she fell.

  He clicked his tongue, then shook his head, feeling like an idiot.

  She’s a woman, you asshole.

  But there was something about this, as she got the cart moving, the vibration of the track transmitting itself through the frame of the cart. He watched her round buttocks shudder with every step, the muscles of her long, gorgeous legs standing out as she strained within her traces. It was almost as if he could put her identity, even her humanity, aside, and just luxuriate in watching her, in controlling her, in using her, simply for his pleasure, for the selfish joy he felt in reducing her to a mode of transport. A (very beautiful) beast of burden.

  For the first time, he really understood what her objectification meant, and though he’d probably hate himself in the morning for it … he liked it.

  Oh yes, he liked it very much indeed.

  She’d managed to get the cart up to surprising speed as she neared the first turn of the track.

  He pulled back on the left rein, not sure how much force was needed to make her feel it, and not wanting to hurt her. He saw her head turn slightly at first, then she looked straight ahead, turning left. He quickly found that he had to give little pulls on the left rein rather than one steady pull, as she tended to drift toward the inside edge of the track — and the railing. So, rather than one smooth curve, it was more like several, somewhat ragged jogs to the left. On the far side of the track she seemed to get her feet under her more and she sped up a little more as they straightened out, the straps at the traces squeaking a little at the vibration from her gait. There was less dust than he’d feared, since he sat so close to her, but a huge cloud of it rose behind them. He glanced over at Kurt and Lino, the two men watching intently. He wondered if they envied him at that moment.

  Watching the swaying of her hips, the rolling of her buttocks, a sheen of sweat making their curves glisten in the sun, he wouldn’t blame them one bit.

  Glancing down at the crop in its holster, he wondered how and why anyone would ever need to use it on a … ponygirl. She pulled obediently enough, though he flicked her ass once more with the whip anyway. Each time he did, he felt her lurch forward as if she might flee the sting, or perhaps obediently trying to wring more speed from her pumping legs. He found the effect delightful whatever the reason, as she bent slightly forward in the traces, her buttocks opening just enough to get quick glimpses of the strap bisected sex between her thighs.

  “Second turn, Breanna,” he said, not sure if she could really hear him over the noise of the wheels on the dirt. “Can we run it smoother?”

  Easing the left rein back once more, this time she was able to negotiate the turn better, only needing to be straightened once to keep her off the inside rail. As they rounded the turn, heading back toward Kurt and Lino, he could hear her breathing hard around the bit, the wind whipping her blonde ponytail into the air. He snapped the whip against her ass again, for no reason other than he could.

  You’ll be lucky if she even talks to you again after this, dude.

  He’d just have to take the risk — this was just too fun.

  “Okay, okay, Breanna. That’s it,” he said, pulling on both reins. The momentum of the cart was hard for her to stop at first and she stumbled a bit, but she was finally able to bring it to a halt just past the two men.

  Kurt clapped, his grin bright in the midday sunshine. “A natural! You weren’t bad either, Derek.”

  Lino caught the reins in his hand, holding them close to her head once more. His hand stroked the whip marks on her bottom. “You must do more, Mr. Derek. She can go faster. You hardly used whip.”

  She jerked her head against Lino’s grip, trying to turn her head toward him, and he shook her in admonishment, throwing her off balance, making her take a small step. Lino snatched the crop from its holster, and measured the crop across her buttocks. She froze, her bottom clenching around the thin strap bisecting it. The crop snapped down once, twice, each stroke leaving a white line across her flesh, which instantly reddened.

  “Holy shit. Take it easy, man!” She whined against her bit as the welts swelled, almost before Derek’s eyes.

  “No, you must expect more from filly. She must never, never resist her grooms, her Masters. When she does, she will be punished. No exceptions.” Lino’s crop tapped the haft of the carriage whip Derek still held in his hand. “You will learn to use more. Do not go easy, Mr. Derek. Ever.”

  Kurt stepped close to her on the opposite side from Lino. He bent and inspected the swollen, darkening weals across her ass, a fingertip tracing one of them. He straightened and murmured something in her ear. She nodded, hanging her head.

  “She knows what she did was wrong,” Kurt said, giving Lino a nod. Then he waved a hand at Derek. “Now get your ass out of that cart. It’s my turn.”

  They took turns driving her round and r
ound the track, Lino occasionally walking along the inside rail yelling instructions or admonishing Breanna, his accented speech liberally laced with Spanish vulgarities. More than once, Derek had made a mental note to look up a word or two.

  After each run, they compared her performance, and looked over the marks their whip strokes had left on her increasingly well-wealed bottom, Lino barking at her to stand still as they inspected her.

  Once Lino had been convinced they’d had a good enough introduction to driving her, he’d led her back to what Derek still thought of as the Maypole, attaching her to a lead and forcing her to march round and round in that exaggerated, tit-bouncing gait once more. Kurt and Derek watched as she completed the endless circles, sweat pouring from her body, Lino much more liberal with the lash than they’d been as she’d pulled them in the carts. Soon though, Lino brought her to halt, unsnapping her lead from the pole and bringing her back over to them.

  “This is your last night at farm, yes Mr. Kurt?”

  “It is,” Kurt said, his gaze not leaving the rapid rise and fall of Breanna’s big breasts.

  Her eyes, largely downcast since her ordeal on the track, met his for a moment, her cheeks flushing, then she looked at the ground once more.

  “I must attend to other duties,” Lino said, handing her lead to Kurt. “You need time alone with her still. Filly needs time to become used to two grooms … or two Masters.”

  “Where are you off to?” Derek tried to ignore the crazy urge to snatch the lead from Kurt’s hands.

  “This is large facility, Mr. Derek. Lino always busy man.” The Spaniard flashed a smile, his straight, white teeth contrasting against the dark Mediterranean skin tone and curly black hair.

  “Other duties?” Derek lifted an eyebrow. “Kurt?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” Kurt turned to Breanna, fondling her breasts, grinning down at his harnessed, bitted wife. “We’ve got … work to do, too.”

  For probably the thousandth time, Derek wished it were his hands squeezing those gorgeous, pale globes.

  “You could try the trail, Mr. Kurt.”

  Kurt looked from Lino back to Breanna, his expression sobering. “I don’t know. Maybe too tired?”

  “She still has energy.” Lino tipped his chin up in Breanna’s direction. “She will obey, if she’s left no choice — tired or not tired.”

  Lino touched the back of his hand to Breanna’s cheek, the gentle gesture incongruous with the stern sentiment of his words. “Obey them, fulana. Do not disappoint them — or me.”

  Her eyes closed with a shiver, yet oddly, pressing her cheek to his knuckles, she nodded.

  Lino shook Derek’s hand. “You be here next week, Mr. Derek?”

  “I … don’t know.”

  Earlier this weekend, Derek had been sure he’d walk away from this place and never come back. Now, part of him wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to leave.

  Lino winked. “Yes, I think we will see you again.” Then he gave Kurt a nod, and walked off with nothing more than a parting wave of his hand.

  “What the hell is this ... trail?”

  Apparently, the rabbit hole went deeper still.

  Kurt took up his wife’s lead. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Fire slashed across her ass, startling her, and she lunged against the harness, the straps wrapped around the traces groaning at the sudden strain.

  “Slow walk, Breanna,” Kurt said behind her. “You’ve got a long way to go yet. Don’t want you getting worn out, do we?”

  She looked up ahead, and her heart sank. It seemed to be all hill.

  They’d walked her to the back of the property, farther than she and Kurt had ever walked … before she’d been reduced to something less than a woman.

  The farm’s site nestled against the base of a complex of foothills and buttes at its northern edge, and at this boundary, a narrow dirt track had been cut into the earth. Blue-gray sagebrush, deep green scotch broom and dormant yellow scrub grass dominated the land, with the occasional buzzing bee flitting between the few bright flowers that dotted the landscape here and there.

  The men followed the trail, urging her along, not saying a word either to her or one another. Derek walked on her left, the feel of his body close by a comforting, and vaguely disconcerting presence. His gaze never quite met hers as they walked, though occasionally he would reach out, palming the heat of her punished buttocks, or slicking fingers through the sweat dripping between her breasts.

  Kurt, opposite his friend, held the reins close, each movement of his arm imparted directly to her sensitive lips by the rubber coated bit. She’d stopped trying to collect the saliva at the corners of her mouth, and occasionally some would escape, coating her chin, a sheen slickening the bouncing breasts that the stiff posture collar ensured she could feel, but not see. It was mortifying to her, and she felt sure it made her ugly, but when her husband’s cool eyes looked upon her, disgust was not what she beheld in the depths of his gaze.

  It was lust.

  That he could still desire her, even in this degraded, subhuman state, was something she could never have hoped for, never have considered as something even within the realm of possibility. This was a part of the fantasy that most discomfited her, this reduction, to something less … but something more.

  In her mind’s eye she always saw the pleasure, envisioned the sex, the pain, the rough, even callous, treatment of her helpless body. But it was the degradation of her human status that both most fascinated, and most disturbed her. Why had she always dreamt of this? Of course, she’d asked herself that very question countless times. Was it to experience that which she’d never felt in her “real” life? A successful lawyer, a respected legal mind, and a tough-as-nails opponent. Those phrases would describe her in her daily life. But was it really her? Did those accomplishments, those credentials, really mean anything to her? To the woman, to the being, she felt she was inside? Why did all the letters after her name leave her empty, but the simple act of men treating her like an animal speak to her in a visceral, instinctive, vital way?

  Was it even possible for that high-powered, liberated career woman to exist in the same body with this person who felt this need, this pull, to explore the deepest, darkest waters of her sexuality? Could it be that her sexuality was the very reason she’d conquered everything else she’d sought out to do in life? She’d always marveled at the paradoxical nature of submission; a woman choosing to relinquish power was committing an act of supreme bravery, something not at all for those more timid creatures of this world. Yet, as she trudged onward, utterly subject to these two strict men, she was feeling anything but brave.

  More like disturbingly aroused, slut.

  Another stinging flick of the whip put her up on the balls of her feet, her ass beginning to feel the effects of the strokes each of the men had laid down across her buttocks as she’d run that track. The path turned up the hill, the bunched green boughs of two giant Ponderosa pines reaching over the trailhead, their shadows throwing a hush over the trail as they passed below.

  As they hit the first incline, the weight of the cart began to tell, and she had to lean into it, pulling harder. She couldn’t imagine having to do it with one of the big men in the cart behind her, laying agonizing strokes across her bottom, imploring her to pull.

  Fortunately, though relentlessly uphill, the dust sometimes rising up into her face as her boots dug into the dirt, the slope was relatively gentle, the trail stretching like a ribbon across the face of the hillside.

  “Come on girl, keep going,” Kurt said, pulling on the reins. “We’ll rest at the top — and we’ll put you to some different work.”

  “How long have you been working on this?” Derek said. “This must’ve taken forever.”

  “Couple months, at least.” Kurt pulled on the reins again. “Lino’s had a couple crews just on this hill, but a bunch more on the rest of it.”

  “You mean there’s more than
this?” Derek cursed under his breath.

  “Oh yeah, quite a bit more — and it might be expanded soon, if things fall into place. This thing runs all the way around the northern lot line, then back down through the farm proper. There’s a spur line they’re working on too. Stretches miles northeast up into the hills. This part has the best view though.”

  “I didn’t see any horses back there.” Derek looked back toward the farm. “Hiking trail?”

  “Of a sort,” Kurt said, with a wink.

  Her breath rasped around the bit, sweat now sluicing down her body, wetting the top of the harness, the cruel saddle strap between her legs slick with it. Mercifully, it lent a modicum of lubrication to the otherwise galling strap.

  Kurt slapped her flank with the ends of the reins. “Just a little further, girl. I can see we’ve still got a lot of work to do here though. You aren’t even carrying us, and you’re winded.”

  “We ran her ass ragged around the track for half an hour, dude. Then made her drag this cart up a hill.” Derek patted her belly. “I think she’s doing just fine, all things considered.”

  She caught the quick, sharp look Kurt shot Derek, but wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “I think she should be whipped.”

  Breanna stumbled, her husband’s tight grip on the reins pulling her up short. “Do you disagree with that idea, girl?”

  She shook her head, knowing the correct answer, whether it was fair or not. When she’d agreed to this, she knew she wasn’t signing up for fair. And maybe that was part of the appeal. She’d have to analyze that one later — when she wasn’t toiling between the traces of a pony cart, led along by reins like an animal.

  Breanna, what in God’s name have you gotten yourself into here?

  What a stupid question that was! She’d signed up for anything, and everything. She’d wanted everything taken away, no choice left to her — yet to still feel safe. It hadn’t ever seemed possible before, that is until she’d met Kurt those many years ago. The desires weren’t even fully formed then, but she could see the general outline of them, feel that there was much more just below the surface. And now? Now, she’d dived so deep she wasn’t sure which direction was up anymore, lost in the lust, the fantasy world her husband had helped her realize. And somehow, having Derek there with them, seeing how he’d changed, feeling how he was discovering things about himself as they went along, somehow that added a whole other delicious level to what was happening, three journeys converging, merging into a single course. She didn’t know where it ended, how it ended, but taking a chance was worth it, knowing that the journey itself was just as important as the destination.