Her Troika (The Complete Story) (Dominion Trust Book 2) (9 page)

“I’ve never known the answer to that.”

“You’re about to find out, Derek.”

Derek grunted. “And how’s that?”

“By getting your ass back in there.” Kurt smiled. “Time to claim your prize.”

Chapter Seven

N
ever before had she so fervently wished for a blindfold, even a hood. Anything to spare her the mortification of her current predicament. The goons had frog-marched her through the crowd along the stalls, her hobbled feet completely unable to keep up with their long strides. She’d tried to
not
to see what was going on in the stalls she passed, did all she could to tune out the hushed commentary about the attributes of her physique from passersby.

She’d succeeded until a frightening man had ordered the two guards to halt. They’d turned her to this strange man, and she’d frozen as his hard hands took the weight of her swaying breasts, pinched her nipples until they stood hard. His keen eyes had stared into hers as he’d done this, his growled warning to her to look at him an order she knew must be obeyed. He’d trailed a single finger through the folds of her sex, bringing it to his mouth to taste. Then as quickly as it had begun, he’d dismissed her with a slap to her breast, the stinging blow sending the vulnerable globe swinging.

Hustled along once more, she’d spotted Lino, and for once, the sight of the man inspired relief rather than fear. She’d take the “evil” she knew, infuriating though he might be, over the unknown.

This time, he’d bound her differently within one of the stalls. She’d had one last longing look at the bar the stretched across the back of the small space, knowing that even bent over it, she’d still have the illusory comfort of being able to conceal her face. But it wasn’t to be.

“No hiding this time,
fulana
.” Lino roughly forced her to her knees, unlocking her cuffs, then wrapped her arms even tighter behind her back, heavy, pungent leather encircling them. She’d grunted as he forced her arms higher just to the point of discomfort, then loosening them a fraction less than that. She didn’t even want to think about how she looked then, how the position threw out her breasts into exaggerated prominence. Once he’d cinched the last buckle of the harness, she knew she might as well have a fucking neon sign over her breasts.

Free Tits! All you can eat!

He chucked her under her chin. “Be good. If they want to touch, you don’t fight. If I hear you have?” His whip caressed one of her nipples, and she held her breath. “Then you’ll get more of this.”

She stared up into his smiling brown eyes. He’d be a handsome man in another situation, another world. But here, he was retribution personified, the effect to her cause. She knew he meant every word, and she nodded meekly, even if inside she pictured introducing that whip to his testicles.

He left her there on her knees, her breasts on display like melons at a produce stand. People walked by her stall and she looked away when they lingered, willing them to move on, leave her at peace. Though the auction itself was every bit as disturbingly hot as her fantasies had prepared her for, the aftermath had been like a splash of ice-cold water, a shock to her senses.

She’d been
sold.

What did that even mean? Sure, she’d whispered the idea into Kurt’s ear when they’d talked of their fantasies, those parts of them they’d never share with anyone else. Somehow though, he’d gotten her to share this one, managed to get her guard down just long enough to learn this dark fantasy, something she’d been ashamed of, knowing it was like nothing any of her girlfriends daydreamed about.

But then she doubted most of her girlfriends had a man like Kurt, someone who was at once demanding and kind, a man who commanded honesty, but then held those truths sacred, never using them against her once they’d been revealed to him.

Until tonight, that is.

Though even that might not be
entirely
accurate. She’d mentioned the idea, and he had asked her if she were serious. She’d said yes, her heart in her throat, not knowing what to make of that bright glint in his dark eyes as he watched her. He’d taken her then, like an animal, no sweetness, no tenderness to it, but rather claiming, marking, imprinting upon her his possessiveness — a quality she both craved and feared in equal measure.

The previous weekend …had it been merely a test run? An experiment?

He’d warned her that she’d be expected to obey any command given to her, by any man who gave it. He’d given her a chance to demur — and she hadn’t. She trusted him, knowing he’d take her only as far as she could stand, and no farther. It had been some kind of test, and she’d known she’d passed it. His smile, his praise of her as they’ve driven home at the end of the long harrowing weekend confirming as much.

Now, kneeling, naked, helpless on a straw-covered floor in a stall as if she were a mere animal … she wasn’t so sure.

Then she saw the boots, and she froze, her pulse throbbing in her neck. She didn’t raise her eyes, afraid of whom she might see.

“You think because your husband rigged things that this is the end of it?” A hand grabbed her chin, fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her gaze up.

Oh, fuck.

It was the young man who’d been thrown out during the auction, the one who’d protested the closing of bids. He was blessed with a sandy-haired, tanned beauty, but it was overshadowed by the coldness she saw in his gaze, the cruel twist of lips that might be alluring in a kind man. She knew that this man was not of kindness, but of something entirely different.

“I don’t care what that old fuck out there said. My father will make sure he regrets that little stunt he pulled tonight. You were
stolen
from me. You should have been mine.”

How did he get back in?

The words were on her lips, and she wanted to bite the fingers that painfully squeezed her face, but she knew it would only be the worse for her.

He squatted down next to her, his face very close, his warm breath a tickle against her ear. “You should have been in the trunk of my car right now, packed away like the possession you are, Breanna. I have your very own cold, lonely stall ready for you out there on my father’s farm. How I’d work you. I have friends who I take out there when they come to visit too. They’d have fun with this body, these tits of yours. Enjoying my plaything. You’d never have a moment’s rest. Not one, slut.”

Then he stood, pushing her face away. He looked down upon her, his eyes alight with a malevolence that had her trembling. “I’ll be back for you. You’ll see. Then we’ll see how well you run on my father’s track. How well you obey the whip.”

Track?

Then he was gone, and for a moment the space in front of her stall was unoccupied, allowing her to compose herself for what might come next.

“This is her, yes?”

She stiffened at the voice, and looked up. Before her stood two figures, both wearing the neat suits that so many of the other men in this place seemed to favor. One of the men appeared well grayed but handsome, the other still blessed with the vigor of youth. Unlike the man who’d just visited her, these two had none of the cruelty in their expressions, rather theirs were those of frank assessment, analysis, and thankfully, admiration.

“Hello Breanna,” the older man said, his smile warming his face.

The younger of the two shook his head. “Tom, it’s ‘B’, remember? Don’t use their names here.”

“Oh, come on.” Tom frowned at the young man. “There’s no one around, Kort. You can relax, you know.”

“Let’s get her up then.” Kort locked his brown-eyed gaze on Breanna. “We’re just going to untie you so you can stand, stretch your legs a bit. We won’t hurt you, beautiful.”

Though the words
did
fill her with relief, she still felt on guard. She was all too aware of her helplessness, and the unpredictable quality of male lust, that dark edge that she both feared and craved.

“There, that’s better,” Tom said as he helped her to her feet, holding her by her pinioned elbow to keep her steady. He turned his head toward his younger companion. “What do you think?”

“Quite a bit older than we usually see on the circuit, but I think that’s a good thing. She’ll bring curiosity value.” Kort stepped closer, purposely meeting her gaze as he cupped the vulnerable curves of her breasts in his palms. “She’s beautiful though, and shy too.”

Breanna looked away, the blood hot at her cheeks. It was somehow easier to be up in front of that audience. Up there she was able to depersonalize it in a way, view the crowd as some sort of thing, rather than individual people.

Here in the confines of her stall, on display, she was forced to experience the now, feel the mortification, the betrayal of her body as strange hands fondled her charms, her sex slickening in anticipation. Here it was immediate, inescapable, and though it terrified her, she knew that deep inside she was excited to see what else was to come.

“Let’s have a look here.” Tom gently turned her so that they could get a look at her backside. The ability to hide her face, though a momentary respite, was welcome indeed.

“Good hindquarters, especially for her age,” Kort said, his hand stroking the curves of her buttocks. “She’ll need quite a bit of training, though.”

“Too many days spent in the office and not on the track, eh girl?” Tom pressed a peck to her ear. “Not your fault, I know. Once you’re trained up though, I’ll bet you wow everyone. You’ve got the body for it, that’s for sure.”

Their words shouldn’t have affected her, except to mortify her. But they didn’t.

It felt
good
.

That praise, that affirmation of her beauty, made her glow inside. Now the
whys
of that fact were entirely too uncomfortable for her to contemplate at that moment, but nonetheless it was true. It was insane, she knew, but hearing these strange men compliment her on her attractiveness actually made her …happy.

All kinds of messed up you are, my dear.

“Stop dawdling, old man,” Kort drawled with a wry grin. “We’ve got others we need to inspect too tonight.”

“Right we do.” Tom leaned in, whispering in her ear. “I think he likes you, my girl. Makes him nervous. All the fillies do.”

The urge to respond was so strong she had to bite into her tongue. It would’ve been easier, if a good deal more humiliating, to have taken Lino’s gag.

Tom stepped back, stroking his chin. “I’m thinking two-wheeled sulky for sure. Don’t you?”

“Definitely. She’s got the long legs for it,” Kort said. He pulled out a small, black tablet computer from inside his suit coat, punching something into it. “But those big tits of hers are going to give her some trouble once she gets up to speed.”

“Nothing a nice tight harness wouldn’t fix, I should think,” Tom murmured, his eyes flashing.

Breanna felt the color drain from her face. What kind of sling had she gotten her ass into here?

“Oh it’s okay, girl.” Tom stroked her hot cheek, his fingertips pushing a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “The racing harnesses don’t hurt. Keeps those lovely breasts of yours tight and high, that’s all. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’ll mark her down for the two-wheel and the free run, for now.” Tom tapped the screen of the tablet and slipped it back into his coat. “We’ll get another look at her mid-training. Fine tune the odds then.”

Tom’s hands stroked down her belly, patting her mons before moving lower to palpate her thighs. His touch wasn’t cruel, and actually soothed her a little, despite the tension she felt submitting to the hands of a complete stranger roaming all over her body. She was surprised at how soon she was acclimating to such treatment. The kindness of both men helped immeasurably, and she really did feel that Tom at least wouldn’t do anything to her. At least she hoped so.

A hand lifted her chin and she found herself looking into Tom’s bright green eyes. “You look great, girl. We’re off now, but the prize winner should be along shortly.” He winked, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Have fun. See you again soon.”

Bidding her to kneel again, they trussed her up as before. Then with a quick press of his lips to her burning cheek, they departed. A burst of laughter sounded from several men some ways off, startling her. She settled back into waiting, watching the increasingly faceless people filing past, most of them scarcely seeming to notice her. With every passing minute, it mattered less and less to her that she was kneeling, naked in a strange stall, a forgotten thing, something less than human.

She lowered her gaze, mortified to see her nipples still hard as stone, despite the humid warmth of the enclosure. Every eye cast her way would fixate on the prominent, pink tips. She’d always lamented her nipples, rarely able to find a bra padded well enough to conceal their jut.

Well, you’ve certainly found one place where bras and high beams don’t appear to be an issue.

She would be strong. This had been something she’d wanted to try, for a very long time. And now, there was no looking back — whether she wanted to or not. She swallowed, and with a shiver, straightened her back. When she looked up, she gasped.