Normally, I am musically disinclined. It isn't that I don't like music, but it does not seem to speak to me as it does to other people. I often find it distracting and prefer it to be in the background of what I am doing (working in the shop, driving, beating people with my BDSM toys).
However this song is fun! Though I prefer to make a small change to what I have posted in the title
As I pulled up my truck in front of the barn, there she was sitting on some hay bales. She pretended to ignore me, looking down at her old, brown boots kicking up some dust. That was ok, it gave me time to admire her there in the sun, wearing a black tank top and faded cut off jean shorts.
The cowgirl decided to give me a glance after I parked and got out. Her brunette hair in a ponytail under her worn out straw hat bounced as she darted her crystal blue eye at me. She held a piece of hay in her mouth with a slight frown when she told me “They ain’t here to show you the horses, Mister.”
I walked over to her and stared down at her. She has been sweating with all the sun, hot in the sky behind me. It made her skin glow. Standing as I was, she had to squint to focus on me.
“That right?” I asked her and then squatted down to get my own piece of hay and flexed it between my fingers. “You the only one here then?”
From this angle, I saw the sweat had also covered her bare legs, particularly her inner thighs. I was close enough to inhale her scent. The musk was intoxicating.
“Yes Sir, Mister. They took off early this morning and didn’t say when they’d be back. Guess you came out here for nutton.” She told me as she went back to staring at her boots. I stood up and asked her if they took the horses with her and she replied with she didn’t know.
“Well maybe we can look in the barn to see if they are still there” I said while waving my piece of straw in the general direction of the barn door. She glanced at the door and then back to me and back to the door.
“I recon’ we can” she sighed as she stood up and went to the door. She struggled a bit to get it open and then walked inside.
Following her in, I gave her backside a full looking over. The sweat stuck the tank top to her back and she shook her ass so much it made the blue bandana hanging out of her pocket swing like a clock pendulum.
Leaving the door open let the sun in to help light the cool, dark barn. Glancing around, I could see it all looked like a set from Gunsmoke. Support beams here and there. Stalls set up for various animals. Bales and loose straw everywhere. There was even an old wagon wheel leaning up against the far wall. Very rustic.
Walking by a support post, I picked up an old lariat that was hanging from a hook. I coiled it up in my hands as she strode deeper into the barn. “See?” the cowgirl told me, “There ain’t no horse here. Ain’t no one attal but you and me.”
With that being said, I stepped quickly up to her back, grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Sliding my hands down her arms, I was able to grasp both wrists and tie them together before she could react.
“What the fuck are you…” the cowgirl started, but before she could finish I reached around to her ass and got the bandana and shoved it in her open mouth. Then I tied it in with my own bandana, so she could not spit it out.
I then grabbed her ponytail and forced her to her knees in the dirt and straw. After looking around the barn, I leered down at her and said “It does look like we have this place to ourselves, don’t it?”
Tears were beginning to form in the cowgirl’s eyes. Her breathing got heavier and she looked like someone about ready to make a prayer, with her on her knees and hands held before her. I walked away from her, all while holding the other end of the lariat in my hands.
Looking around the barn again, I found just what I needed: A solid looking hook about seven feet of the ground. It was nailed into another support beam and had a bale right next to it.
“Head’m up and move’m out” I said to the cowgirl as I gave the lariat a hard yank. She pitched forward into the dirt and stretched out flat. But she did get up again, deciding it was better to walk than be drug across the floor. I led her over the beam and then let her stand there, while I got up on the haybale.
My end of the lariat want quickly through the hook and I jumped off the bale, pulling the rope along with me. Of course this made her arms shoot up and slammed her into the post. The cowgirl screamed from the sudden pain and the tears really began to fall.
Tying off the end of the lariat, I stepped back and admired my work. She was hanging like a piece of meat, her cheek against the beam. Seeing her hat had fallen when she hit the wood, I reached down and put it on my own head. Then I patted her on the ass and said “Don’t go nowhere. I’ll be right back.” I turned to go but gave her a second thought and turned back.
Taking off each boot off of her, I tossed them in a corner. “Can’t run off if you are barefoot, can ya?” She attempted a reply but the gag kept it muffled. I left her to hang there and toe dance, trying to keep her weight off her wrists.
Whistling an old country tune, I strode out the barn door and went back to my truck. Inside the truck bed, under a tarp, was my toy bag. It was filled with all kinds of interesting things. I picked up my bag and headed back to the barn closing the door once I was back out of the sun.
The cowgirl was still there, her heels a good two inchs off the ground. She turned her head to watch me approach her, eyes wide. As I got closer, she tugged harder on the lariat, as if my knots were going to give under that kind of pressure.
I stood right next to her writhing body and grabbed her by her ponytail. Dropping my toy bag at our feet, I leaned my head down to the side of her neck and inhaled her scent. My hand pulled down on her hair and I grinned as her chin shot into the air. Leaning in closer, I licked her sweat from the hollow of her throat to the tip of that chin.
The cowgirl’s tears dripped from her eyes and screams and pleadings failed to make themselves known through the stuffed bandana. I whispered into her ear “Oh, are we going to have a grand ol time! Just you and me, Darlin’.”
“Just you and me.”
Stepping back, I squatted down and opened the toy bag. Out of it came my hunting knife. Eight inches of very sharp carbon steel. Handle wrapped in grip tape, in case things got wet. Tossing the leather sheath back in the bag, I held the knife up to show the cowgirl as I slowly walked back to her.
Her screams ratchetted up a few notches and she shook her head back and forth as fast as she could! I grinned again, running back side of the tip up and her shirt front. I swear I could hear her get “Please, Please!” out through the gag. “Oh you are going to enjoy this, Darlin’”
I then spun around and stuck the knife up the back of her tank top. The cloth parted with a loud tear, from the waist to the top. I then slid the knife under each shoulder strap, pulled the handle towards me, and the ruined shirt fell to the ground.
Her now bare back was marvelous! Trickles of sweat ran down it, with her muscles taunt from having her arms tied above her. A tramp stamp giving a glimpse of what lay under her cutoffs. Oh, how her pale shin shined in the shadowy light.
I began to become erect from the sight and smell. But not yet, I told myself. There is still so much to do…..
Grabbing her ponytail in a double handful, I whipped her head to the left and then sank the knife into the beam next to her nose. Placing my lips next to her ear, I whispered to her “Don’t…..move.”
Back to the toy bag, I retrieved my favorite flogger. Grey elk leather falls worked into a black wooden handle. It knew many a workout. It was seasoned from beatings of lore. But not like this one, I told myself. Oh no, not like this.
The cowgirl flinched when I simply touched the falls to her skin. They rubbed up and down her spine and across shoulders and hips. She dipped her head through her arms, and I would be damned if she didn’t widen her stance.
Oh how I smiled!
I stepped back a proper distance and started with my wrist. Working from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, I danced the falls across her skin. Up and down the spine the leather tips left their marks, as my elbow took over the job.
The blows came harder. The falls no longer dancing but striking like cobra. I would see the cowgirl bracing for each hit, her toes clenching in the dirt. Her arms pulling at the lariat to help brace herself.
Tossing the flogger on my shoulder, I went back to her side and, again, grasped her hair. “You are a tough little cunt, aren’t you Darlin’. Let’s see how tough…” My other hand yanked the knife out of the beam and found it’s way in between her legs. A quick flick of the wrist parted the denim and her cut offs were now a skirt.
Thrusting the knife back into the beam, I used both hands to yank up the torn shorts up the trunk of her body. Her now uncovered ass quivered before me. I could see her muscles vibrating from the strain of standing on her toes for so long.
I ran my hand lightly over her ass, as if to sooth the strain. Over her ink and down each cheek. My fingers slowing working their way down and finding her pussy. I could not believe the amount of wetness I discovered there.
“You like this, don’t you cunt. You are a wonton minx!” Using my other hand, I pulled the gag from her mouth as I shoved my fingers deeper into her pussy.
“Oh god, yes…” she moaned, as I put three fingers into her.
“Tell me what a nasty little bitch you are, cunt” I ordered her.
“I’m a nasty bitch! Please, Please, PLEASE fuck me! Oh GOD PLEASE”
Her juices flowed from her twat, as I plunged my fingers over and over and over into her. Each thrust harder than the one before and faster til my arm was about ready to give out.
Pulling down on her ponytail made her sobs and moans bounce off the roof of the barn, until they seemed to be coming from everywhere. She was breathing so hard she could barely get out her words:
“Master! Master! May I cum? Please Master! PLEASE”
With a final thrust and yanking of her hair, I told her yes.
The cowgirl let forth such a howl from her orgasum that the rafters seemed to shake and shutter. Her entire body vibrated, and she pulled so hard on the lariat, that she lifted herself off the ground. As my hand left her pussy, a waterfall of her juice cascaded to make a puddle in the dirt.
Then with a suddenness I have never seen before, she went slack. I had to jump up to support her body, so the fall would not harm her arms. I quickly grabbed the knife and cut the rope, so I could lower her to the ground.
We collapsed into a pile in the dirt and straw. Her head resting on my chest and her still bound wrists in my lap. After a time, her eyes fluttered open and she looked dreamily at me.
“Thank you, Master” she whispered to me while she caressed my cheek with both hands. “You are so wonderful”
I smiled back at her and told her she was too.
“Now let’s get you rested and cleaned up. We only rented this place for two hours.”
∼Fin∼
You never should let me be by
Myself
Now I have to go Kidnap Someone
But she was my wife and I made her lick it off afterwards anyway
So my latest endeavor comes from talking with a submissive on here about self bondage. Mostly my interest in the subject comes from the idea of binding up a submissive and then leaving the alone to get themselves out of it (Yes safety police, I would keep them under observation via cam).
From my research, there was a number of ways to do it using melting ice as a release trigger. After looking at a few of them, I thought I could build one one of my own. So using some left over parts from other projects, and buying a few new ones, I came up with this:
1 Inch copper tube for the body, 1 1/8th rubber leg tips, stainless steel eyebolts with a steel rubber backed washer.
One assembled, it was filled with tap water. I was rather surprised and found no leaks and placed the device in the freezer for two days (probably overly long but the 4th was a busy day). This morning I got it out and hung it up in my work shop with a bucket below to hopefully everything when the ice gave out:
18 minutes and 55 seconds later:
Now the timing is with 5 lbs of constant downwards pressure. A submissive will create more force but not constantly. So the timing will most probably longer. How long, I am not sure. It will take a testor to figure that out. I am currently thinking also of trying it with some plastic tubing to see if that will increase the time bound, as the copper is a great heat transfer.
Sarah read those five lines over and over. When she couldn’t stand to read them again, her hand dropped to her lap and her eyes looked pleadingly towards the other woman.
“Matt wanted me to come find you, to tell you we were sorry,” Silvia explained to her friend. “We were selfish. I wanted to learn so much from Matt and He thought he saw a jewel to be polished. He put you on the back burner and then ignored you. I ignored you. You deserved attention and we didn’t give it to you.”
Silvia turned back to her drink and took a healthy sip. “So, of course, you lashed out. You told people things about us, you scened with less talented people. Hell, you even slept with Lord Bane.” She finished her drink in one last gulp and set the empty glass back on the bar.
Hearing Silvia’s words, Sarah dropped her head to look at the note in her lap. Too embarrassed to make eye contact, She said “I know, I know, I know I shouldn’t have, but I was so hurt and….”
Suddenly Sarah felt a grip on her hand and was pulled off her stool. She looked up and could only see Silvia’s back with her arm almost yanking Sarah along. She saw they were heading for the door to the Grand Ballroom. Silvia stopped long enough to unlock the door and dragged Sarah inside, locking entry behind them.
Once inside, Silvia let go of Sarah’s hand and walked deeper into the large room. Sarah knew from experience that this was where all the work of The Club happened. She looked around and saw the dungeon furniture. The Saint Andrew’s crosses, the spanking benches, whipping posts, suspension rigs, and the rest. Some she used and others she had no experience with.
Looking around again, she found Silvia had made her way to one of the spanking benches and a nearby table. Making her own way there, she saw the other woman had stripped naked and was picking up a set of ankle cuffs. By the time Sarah got to the bench, Silvia had put on the cuffs on herself and was reaching to pick up a set of wrist ones.
“Silvia, what are you….” Sara was asking when Silvia grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her in close. Their lips met in a rush of heat and wetness, Silvia’s bare breasts crushing against Sarah’s shirt.
Silvia unlocked her lips from Sarah’s and whispered in her ear “I need forgiveness….Please!” She then pushed Sarah back at arm’s length put the cuffs into her hands.
Looking from the cuffs to the naked woman before her, Sarah was stuck by the simple beauty that was Silvia. Her pale skin and waist length black hair. Her eyes that cried for forgiveness, almost deep blue in the half light of the Ballroom.
Sarah nodded and strapped the cuffs to each of Silvia’s wrists.
She then grabbed a handful of hair at Silvia’s neck and marched her over to the spanking bench. Forcing her down on the bench lengthwise, Sarah held Silvia down by the back of the neck while her other hand clipped the left wrist and ankle to the arms of the bench. She then switched hands and did the same for the right side.
Standing back, Sarah admired Silvia’s body. The bench made it so Silvia’s ass and pussy were fully exposed at one end of the bench with her legs were separated, so one could be in between them. At the other end, Silvia’s head hung down with her arms out before her.
Turning back to the table, Sarah picked up a blindfold and a short tailed single whip. It was of a kind she had used before. She knew very well what kind of pain it could inflict. They hurt a lot.
Sarah then approached the front of the bench and lifted Silvia’s head. Kissing her lightly on forehead, she put the blindfold on her captive, and then whispered in her ear, “Your safeword is ‘Matt’. She then flicked the whip on Silvia’s right ass cheek.
Silvia’s head snapped back in pain, as a half choked scream escaped her mouth. Before she knew it, three more strikes walked up and down her body. Her lower back, and the back of each thigh. All three places seemed to light up at once!
Then there was no new pain, just the throb of fading hits. Her breath heavy with trying to process the slowly receding pain, when Sarah’s voice boomed “Count them!”
A searing bite ignited her right shoulder blade. “One!” Silvia cried! Then her left shoulder blade “Two!” Both ass cheeks seemed to sear at the same time “Three! Four!”
Silvia’s tears flowed from behind the blindfold and run down her face. She wanted to cry, oh how she wanted to cry, but held off as much as she could! Hornet stings struck both thighs and her screams of “Five! Six!” filled the open ballroom. She cried as the whipping stopped.
Then without warning, two more stung Silvia with great pain. One on each libia.
“Seven, Eight”, she almost could not get the words out. Silvia then reared back her head and screamed:
“MATT!!!!!”
Sarah dropped the whip to the floor and laid on top of Silvia from behind, their heads next to one another. She whispered soft cooing sounds, much like soothing a small child, kissing each red spot on Silvia’s back. She then stood and went to the table to retrieve a folded blanket and came back to still sobbing woman.
After unlatching each cuff, Sarah wrapped Silvia in the cloth warmness and helped her off the bench. Together they staggered to a leather couch and Sarah gently her friend on it. Silvia looked back at Sarah, slightly shivering in the folds of the blanket. Sarah returned the questioning look, and then proceeded to undress herself.
Shoes, dress, bra, panties, all piled themselves next the couch. Sarah leaned down as Silvia opened the blanket to welcome her. Sarah’s skin became slick with Silvia’s sweat and her tongue tasted the saltiness of Silvia’s tears. Silvia wrapped her arms around Sarah’s back and pulled her in as close as she could.
Legs intertwined and hands groped and fondled. Groans rose and breathing deepened. In time, climax was reached for each of them and they collapsed into a heap of sweat, hair and blanket on the couch together. After a while, Silvia pulled Sarah’s head back by the hair, so she could speak to her.
“There is something on the table Matt wanted you to have. Please go get it”
Sarah looked quizzically into Silvia’s eyes and then over to the table. Not wanting to the comfort of Silvia’s warmth but drawn to see what it was, she rose and padded over to the table.
There sitting among the paddles, coils of rope, knives and other instruments, was a small flat box topped with a bow. Sarah giggled, a red bow. Matt’s favorite color. Picking up the box, she went back to the couch where Silvia was now sitting up, the blanket wrapped around her waist.
Sarah sat next to her and raised an eyebrow, holding the box across her palm. Silvia kept her face blank as she wound her hair up in a bun, saying nothing more than “Open it.”
Sarah looked up suddenly at Silvia with a shocked look on her face. The tears running down her face were in contrast to the puzzlement in her eyes. “Wha….What do you mean, Silvia?” she stammered trying to sit again on the bar stool. Silvia helped steady her until she was properly seated and then picked up one of the towels from the bar.
While patting the tears on Sarah’s face, Silvia told her “We were bad to you, Sarah. Both me and Matt. You gave me this world and Matt. But we were so smitten with each other that we both ignored you. You were Matt’s submissive when I went to Him and he dropped you for me. I was new and stupid and wasn’t thinking of anyone else be me and Him. It was wrong and I know it now.”
Silvia tossed the towel on the bar and leaned over to hold Sarah again. Breaking the clasp, Silvia held ther other’s shoulders and touched foreheads. “Matt should have known better to treat you like he did. We both loved Him but He was the one in charge. We treated you badly and you acted out the way you did. No, you shouldn’t have done what you did but it is understandable.”
Easing her head back, Silvia kissed Sarah lightly on the forehead and then leaned back on her own stool. She then reached into the top of her dress to retrieve something hidden there, while the other woman picked up the towel and dabbed at her eyes.
“Madam Webb gave me this the day of Matt’s funeral. She said it was the last thing Matt wrote before he passed away.” Silvia handed Sarah a small, folded piece of paper. Undoing it, Sarah read the five lines written there, in slightly shaky handwriting:
I don’t want you to be alone
I want you to find Love again like we shared
To that Affect: I release you from your duties to me
Make right where we together failed
I shall aways love you Both
An
Evil
Deceptive
Conniving
Dastardly
Dick
