Her Troika (17 page)

This had gone further than it ever should have. Yes, it wasn’t right to continue this, and he knew if he allowed it, things would go much farther still. But in the midst of all that was wrong about this situation, he at least had been able to find this, to discover this truth within him — and have the courage to embrace it. To be brave enough to acknowledge whom you
really
were was part of what it was to be a man, to be a fully functional human being.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, he actually felt like one.

Derek walked around the entire perimeter of the barn ostensibly looking for Lino — it would be easier to just tell the Spaniard that it was done, to ask him to tell Kurt how sorry Derek was that he couldn’t be the friend he knew Kurt hoped he’d be.

You mean the kind of friend that would be a-okay with beating and tag-teaming his friend’s wife? That kind of friend?

A man with any sense of morals wouldn’t have been turned on by that very thought. Apparently, Derek wasn’t that sort of man — so leaving was the best of a whole set of shittier options. If he was going to start making a habit of being honest with himself, he was afraid — afraid of what he might do, of what he might want to do. Most of all, he was afraid of the feelings he could already sense were developing. It was bound to end in a god-awful mess. It would be so easy to become addicted to this, obsessed, and with that would come the feelings, attachment — and finally, the hurt.

The last thing he needed was another broken heart, to want something, to desire something — or
someone
— he could never really have.

Opening the outer door to the barn, he stepped into the shadows of the building, the air inside blessedly cooler, the sound of the wind outside reduced to a mere whisper as he closed the door. As he made his way back toward the stalls, he steeled himself. This had to be done. There was a lot more at stake here than his own heart, his own hurt — there was Kurt and Breanna’s
marriage
. Better to get it over with now, before he got any deeper.

As he got closer to the stalls, he resolved to say what needed to be said, and go. Then he heard it: smacking, murmurs, the sound of a woman’s tears, then moaning.

It was them.

Old Derek would have reacted to such sounds instinctively, rushing in to see who was hurting a woman, ready to strike down a man if necessary, to defend her.

New Derek froze, listening, trying to pick up any sound over his deafening, thudding heartbeat. New Derek’s cock rose to attention almost immediately as he imagined what might be going on inside that stall. He shook his head, disgusted at how turned on he was.

Standing just outside Breanna’s stall, Derek looked down with a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets to stop them shaking. There was another slap, and Breanna’s cry, followed by Kurt’s rumbling murmur.

Don’t go in there. Turn around, and leave. And never come back, Derek.

He turned the corner … and stopped outside the stall entrance. He was far enough out in the corridor that he stood in shadow.

Kurt sat on a bale of hay in the center of the enclosure, his profile to the stall entrance. Breanna lay over his lap, her naked ass facing directly toward Derek, her legs spread wide apart, her heavy boots no longer on her feet. In fact, he could see she’d been stripped of everything, save her collar. Her buttocks were a deep, angry red, with darker blotches in several spots, especially where her cheeks met the thighs. She’d had a very hard spanking, indeed. Semen glistened between the swollen lips of her sex, her inner thighs shiny with it. He could hear her sniffling, moaning as Kurt’s hand rubbed her glowing bottom for her. Occasionally, Kurt landed another smack here and there, making her cry out, her feeble struggles easily quelled by the big arm holding her tightly over his lap.

“You are
mine
,” Kurt’s deep voice said. He gazed down at Breanna’s blazing bottom as he spoke. “You will always be mine. No matter how many Masters you have, how many cocks fuck you, how many men you kneel before, you will
always
be mine. Don’t you forget it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His hand cracked down twice, once on each thigh, and she shrieked, her legs kicking for a moment, before his growl made her still. His fingers traced the redness blooming on the backs of her thighs, and he murmured something to her as she began to weep.

Derek’s throat had a lump so big in it he felt like he’d swallowed a golf ball. His legs wanted to move, to take him away, but something kept him rooted there, kept him staring, stone silent, his cock so hard it felt like it might explode.

“Please,” she whispered, pain clouding her voice.

“What, girl?”

“Don’t let him—” her body shuddered, and Kurt’s hand stilled, long fingers spanning both burning cheeks “— I don’t want him to go. Help him stay.”

Kurt looked up, his hand stilling a moment. “I don’t think it’s that simple, girl. I can’t make him stay. He has to choose it.”

Breanna said something through her weeping, something Derek couldn’t make out, and he found himself taking a quiet step closer to the stall entrance.

You need to go, Derek. Standing here, watching this like some fucking perv?

Kurt bent over her a moment, listening. “I want that too, girl. But it’s not up to me.”

“Tell me what to do. What—” a watery sob shook her, Kurt’s hand gently squeezing her buttock “— what he needs.”

“I don’t know, girl. I know what
I
need though. Your obedience.” Kurt pressed a kiss to the scorched curve of her ass. “And your love.”

“You have it. All of it, Sir.” She stirred against Kurt, the muscles of her thighs tightening as her husband’s fingers inspected the sticky, glistening folds of her sex. “But I’m worried. This is … my fault.”

“No, it isn’t your fault, girl.” Kurt glanced toward the stall entrance, his eyes widening as he spotted Derek. For a moment, Kurt’s expression darkened, then his eyes softened, and he beckoned Derek in with a slight movement of his head.

“You need to stop worrying about things you can’t change,” Kurt went on, steel back in his voice, stroking her swollen buttocks once more. “You have one job here: to do as you’re told.”

Kurt looked up at Derek and gave him a quick grin.

“You reflect on me with your behavior, girl. You will treat other men as you would me. No matter how embarrassing it might be, no matter the trials, you will obey. You will make me proud. Proud as your Owner, as your lover, and as your husband. I promise you this, Breanna. I will always expect the most from you. Whenever you fail me, you’ll be punished. Whenever you make me proud, you’ll be rewarded. Always. Forever.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her body writhing over Kurt’s lap now as he slipped two fingers between the swollen lips of her cunt. Derek’s mouth went dry seeing her like this; so helpless, laid bare, utterly vulnerable. He wanted to make everything better for her, yet at the same time he wanted to put her though even more, see how far he could take her. It was insanity, his lust clouding his thoughts.

But standing there watching them together he came to a decision. To see that devotion, the nuclear hot sexual chemistry, the comfortable, easy going dynamic of her submission, and his acceptance of her surrender, moved him. It was a bittersweet realization, as he stood there watching them: he could never have what they had, could never be a
real
part of it. But to be even close to it, to feel the warmth of their union, of their connection, he knew now that he would do what it took.

Though he might never taste that love, that closeness, he’d settle for even a pale facsimile of it, if even for just a short time. Like the memory of a sweet dream that fades in the morning, he’d take those moments and savor them as long as they lasted. It would be enough.

For a man wounded of heart, and doubtful of purpose, such a thing would be enough, indeed.

“We can’t make him stay, girl. All we can do is hope he makes that choice.”

“Where … where did he go?” She sighed, a soft, forlorn weeping beginning again. “Lost him … ”

Kurt’s brows furrowed a moment as he looked straight ahead, a thousand-mile stare. He glanced at Derek, then back down at Breanna. Then Kurt caught Derek’s gaze, and mouthed the words:

‘Touch her. Tell her.’

Derek laid a gentle palm on Breanna’s soft bottom, her inflamed flesh feeling hot as a furnace. “I’m here, Breanna. I’m going to stay.”

Chapter Fifteen

I
f it weren’t so fucking perverted, Derek would have called the scene beautiful.

There she lay, on her side, her back to them, her long legs tucked up against her elbows, her swollen sex wet with her husband’s seed, the rounded hips and blazing red buttocks a counterpoint to the lithe lines of her torso, the spray of blonde hair lain across the bright pattern of the blanket. Her hands had been unbound but the leather cuffs remained affixed to her wrists. She was sleeping. Amazingly, as soon as they’d gotten her calmed down, with cooing words, and an embarrassing number of soft kisses to her cheeks from both Kurt and Derek, she’d nodded off. Before long, she was sound asleep, the men tiptoeing out of the enclosure, Kurt snapping off the lights, leaving her gorgeous body blanketed in shadow.

But neither of the men had wanted to leave.

“You do know how fucked up this is, right?”

Kurt flashed a quick grin. “I think you’re going to find your definition of ‘fucked up’ is about to change a little — or a lot.”

Both of them stood just outside the enclosure entrance, Kurt leaning one hand against the doorjamb, Derek on the other side of the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his back flush against the wall next to the door.

"Why — why was she crying?"

Kurt glanced back at Breanna, then looked at the floor. "She always cries when she's been punished."

"And that doesn't, I don't know, weird you out?"

Derek really wasn't sure he'd know how to answer the same question. Female crying had always elicited an overwhelming urge to comfort and protect —whether it was his mother, his kid sister, or a complete stranger. He vividly remembered stopping at a stoplight one afternoon, the low-angle evening sun blinding him. Holding up a hand to block the light, he'd just happened to glance at the car next to him. The woman driving was frantically wiping tears from her cheeks, her long brown hair mussed, her eyes reddened. He'd even rolled down his window, hoping she'd look his way — even though he had zero idea what he'd say — but the light went green and she'd pulled away.

The urge to comfort even that one stranger had him moving almost on autopilot, reaching out to another, feeble though his efforts may have been.

But today — the tears he'd seen today ... hadn't had the same effect. Maybe that was part of the reason he'd backed out? It was too much for him to contemplate, what his reaction — his physical reaction — might mean.

It probably meant he wasn't the good guy he'd always pictured himself being.

"I usually don't stop until she's crying," Kurt said.

"Jesus, man. Why?"

"There's a lot you still don't understand about women, about submissive women."

"Enlighten me, prick."

Kurt smiled. "Breanna needs to cry. It's like a release for her."

"What — like hitting the bag at the gym? Doing laps? Kicking your ass at hoops?"

"Something like that." Kurt's eyes sobered. "She loves it. But it's not easy."

"Of course it's not easy, she's crying for fuck's sake."

Kurt looked in on her again, then pushed himself away from the wall. "It's not easy — for me."

"I don't know how you do it."

"Yes, you do."

Derek scowled at his friend.

He knows already, so why don't you just admit it?

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, douche."

"I watched you out there.” Kurt’s head tipped toward the harness area. “The way you strapped her."

"I ... look, Kurt—"

"Save it." Kurt grinned, but his gaze was hard. "We all know you liked it. Most guys — if this really wasn't their thing — would've bolted like scared little boys by now."

"Dude, I was scared shitless."

"But you didn't run, did you?" Kurt shrugged. "Being scared ... that's normal."

Then Derek finally saw it, what he could feel but couldn't yet see.

Kurt didn't
want
to hurt her.

The realization set Derek on his heels, like a punch in the gut.

Breanna stirred, and both of them watched her roll over onto her belly, one leg tucked up to her side, the other extended straight back. The position yawned open her cleft, blatantly exposing all to their silent, avid gazes. Derek swallowed away the lump in his throat, his cock quickly coming back to life. Once again, he marveled at her long, long legs, and how he wanted so much to touch her again, feel that musculature, luxuriate in the softness of her skin. It was as if he'd forgotten she was another man's wife, as if in this strange place, that fact no longer mattered.