Her Troika by Trent Evans

Author:Trent Evans [Evans, Trent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotic romance
Publisher: Tritium Press
Published: 2014-04-09T00:00:00+00:00

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

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