Free Her Troika by Trent Evans

felt the pain of it, the shame of that rejection. All the fears he’d ever had about being broken, a freak of nature, all of them had flooded back as he’d stood there in their kitchen and listened to her scream and rant at him.
    “It was … it sucked, Kurt. She said I was a sick fuck, should have my head examined. Deviant. Perverted. You name it.”
    “Jesus,” Kurt breathed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, man.”
    Her words had stung, yes, but more than that fact, he’d feared she was somehow right . Deep inside, he’d wondered if it wasn’t simply the sting of truth. That possibility made him sick. What if all of it had been a giant, twisted charade, an exercise in his selfish quest to ape being “normal”? Yet, he’d been ready, wanting to open himself up to the possibility that perhaps he wasn’t the aberration he’d feared he might be. But when he’d walked out onto that limb, she’d chopped it out from under him. Cruelly. Viciously.
    And it wasn’t until that very moment, as he paced under the breathtaking luminescence of those stars that he’d realized he’d never recovered from it.
    “Do you see it now though?” Kurt’s voice was softer, barely audible over the rumble of noise from inside the barn. “You know now, don’t you?”
    “Kurt, the only thing I know now, is that I’m fucked up. Badly.”
    “ She fucked you up, Derek. You didn’t start that way.”
    Derek shoved his hands in his pockets, propping a boot on one of the tires of the car. It was a dark BMW, the fucking door on it likely worth more than his life. “How the hell would you know?”
    “Because I’m just like you. And once you find the right situation, the right woman , you’ll understand.”
    “Understand what?” It was Derek’s turn to stare up into a sky so immense the awe of it washed over him, drawing the very breath from his lungs. How many other Dereks were out there, tiny specks of consciousness wondering why the hell they existed? Pondering what the point of all of this was?
    “That there are those who were made for you, that complement you, that need what you have to give.” Kurt laid a palm on Derek’s shoulder. “And then you’ll understand why you’re here.”
    “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