Nowhere Ranch (12 page)

I nodded, then on horny impulse, turned my face to kiss him.

But I stopped at the last second, realizing in this game I had to ask for that sort of thing. I let my eyes do the asking, though my lips did part a little in hope.

Making a growling noise in the back of his throat, he bent down and caught my mouth in a hard kiss full of tongue. He took hold of my cock with his bare hand and jerked me a few times, making me moan into his mouth. His tongue slid deeper into my throat, and I let him in as deep as he wanted to go. But when he withdrew, I didn't chase him, just held still and waited until he told me what I was supposed to do next.

I was going to be a very, very good boy.

What he did next was bend me over that bench and tie me to the ropes he had rigged up on all the sides of the stall before lashing me to the bench too.

He had clearly put a lot of thought and care into this arrangement, and some of it had been designed just for me. He'd dragged some sort of platform out from under the hay and put the bench on it, and before he tied me down, he made a few adjustments to the legs. He was tailoring it to my height, but he wasn't putting all his trust in it, either. That was what the tying me to the ropes was for. Mostly they were supporting me, but the bench was taking the stress off my lower back. I figured in a few minutes it was also going to be keeping my ass just where he wanted it, but right now mostly it was support and cosmetics.

The ropes, though, were ones he'd brought from the house. They were nylon and designed specifically to be gentle on skin. You can tell the difference, and as one who is frequently acquainted with them, you appreciate the difference too. They kept me spread wide-open, trussed and helpless, but they didn't cut into my skin. I was all skin now, because as he'd removed the first rope, he'd removed my shirt too, and my jeans and my underwear.

My boots he put back on. And he slapped a cowboy hat on my head. It was kind of a nice one, a chocolate brown felt, so dark it was almost black. All I had was a straw Stetson for working. It didn't rain much out here, but nothing fucked up a nice felt hat like a downpour. Felt was for show.

Well, I was showin’ now.

Travis didn't waste any time with words and got straight to the fucking. He kept his clothes on while he made an inspection of me, running his hands all over my naked body, though he was careful to avoid my asshole and my cock. He did pay some attention to my mouth, though, sliding his fingers inside. They tasted like rope and leather, and I sucked on them hard, running my tongue around them as they fucked me. I looked up at his face from beneath the brim of the hat and let him see how much I liked it, hoping he could see how much I wanted his cock in my mouth too. For a second I felt really proud of myself, because his eyes went dark, and he brought his crotch up close to my face. I nuzzled eagerly against the denim and looked up at his face as best I could. But all he did was pat my cheek and pull away, and then he was gone.

He went around to the back of me and had a little party in my ass.

First he rimmed me like I have never been rimmed. No warning, no stroking, not even telling me—he just pulled my cheeks apart and dove in fast and hard. And by in, I mean he went
in
. His tongue pushed inside me like it was some kind of cock. When I flexed against him, he slapped at my ass cheek, which made me jump, which made him slap again. Pretty soon he was licking and sucking and fucking and slapping, all as hard as he could, and all the while I humped against the bench and moaned, hoping he would never stop.

His finger came at me with almost as little warning, and after three pumps, he pushed a second one in alongside me. That made me gasp and cry out, because it hurt just a little. But he kept pushing, so I kept taking, panting against the pain until it became a burn and then just became pleasure. I took him in dry until he got tired of it, and then I waited to see what was next.

It turned out to be a big, fat dildo with a tail.

He showed it to me first, and he had me suck it. It was purple and ridged, getting very fat at the base, but mostly what impressed me about this was how long it was. Well, that and the horse tail that hung down. But mostly as I took it into my throat, feeling it press alarmingly deep, all I could think of was how far that fucker was going to go into my colon.

He smiled at me as he used it to fuck my mouth. “You're going to be a pretty pony,” he told me. I shivered, because he sounded wicked. It was hard to believe this was the nice guy Haley had beamed at in the bar, the fine upstanding rancher everyone in town admired. I couldn't imagine him right now teaching anybody anything, especially math in some college. Right now what he was teaching me was how deep I could suck on a purple silicone dildo, and I knew shortly it would go up my ass.

He greased it in front of me, sitting on a stool. He took his time.

“Where is this going to go, boy?” he asked me.

“My ass, sir,” I said, not taking my eyes off it.

He kept up his work. “How far is it going to go in?”

“All the way, sir.” I shifted my hips against the bench in anticipation.

“And then what will you be?”

“Your pony, sir.”

He smiled. His hand stilled against the side of the dildo, which was thick with grease, as was his hand. He looked almost sadistic. He made sure I saw just how much he was enjoying having me like this, how much he was going to enjoy ramming that dildo into my ass.

I did my best to let him see how very much I was going to enjoy having all this done to me.

The dildo was rough to take in, rougher than I thought. Those ridges were a trick, and by the time he had it halfway in, I was grunting and panting. But he didn't let up, didn't stop, and so I kept taking, and the next thing I knew, I felt the fine hairs of the tail brushing against my taint. He slapped my rump once, making me jump. Then he came around to my red, sweating face and held something up to my mouth.

It was a bit.

It was of some sort of soft material that didn't puncture when I sank my teeth into it but did give, which meant too that it was going to absorb the shock. The idea that I was going to need something like that really, really fucking turned me on. But best of all was that there were leather leads firmly attached to each side of the bit, and Travis gathered them both in his hands and pulled them back around the side of my head.

He also let me see the crop in his hand. I shut my eyes and moaned softly in anticipation.

“Keep the bit in your mouth,” he told me, “but if it gets to be too much, spit it out and tell me to stop. If you can't for some reason, shake your head no. Other than that, I'm not going to stop. We're going to ride, pony. You're going to ride this bench hard and fast, and I'm going to hold your lead and whip your fine ass the whole way. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded eagerly, though I didn't quite understand how I was going to “ride the bench.” I assumed he just meant that I was going to dry hump against it like a dog.

Holy shit was I wrong.

There was a hole in the side of the bench I hadn't known was there until Travis slid my cock into it. I was a little worried at first, because I thought that was going to chafe like fuck, rubbing against wood, but then he guided my cock home and I moaned around the bit. Jesus. It was like he was sliding me into an ass. It was even warm like one. He had one of those flesh things lined up at that hole, one of those fuck-tubes. He wasn't kidding that I was going to be fucking the bench. I grunted and thrust a few times because it felt so good.

The crop came down hard against my lower back, and I yelped around the bit. And I stopped.

“You wait until you're told, pony,” he told me, and I hung my head, ashamed. I should have known that. I was so excited, but I should have known that.

He lifted up the cowboy hat and stroked my hair. “There now. You just hold still, and when I tell you to giddyup, you start riding. Understand?”

I nodded and tried to nuzzle his hand.

He let me, and then he put my hat back on. Keeping hold of the lead, he positioned himself behind me. He spread his thighs so I could feel his jeans against my legs. He kneaded my rump affectionately with his hand. Then he pulled the reins tight, lifted my head, and hit the other cheek firmly with the crop.

“Giddyup!”

I giddyupped. I thrust my cock into that bench and let that dildo fuck me as the tail swished against my taint. I moaned and grunted as the crop came down on my ass, first one side and then the other. I went faster. I nodded my head and bucked my hips and imagined I was galloping over the fields, carrying Travis wherever he wanted to go. And he beat my ass with that crop. There was no playing around, no nothing nice about it. This man was hard core. He slapped that leather against my cheek with a force that wasn't just going to be red. It was going to welt. He got so into it that he pulled back, straining my neck on the reins and moving away from my thighs as the crop whizzed through the air, all the while shouting “Hee-yah!” and “Come on, boy, faster! Faster!” I fucked and grunted and moved my hips in time to his will, and I let go. I let fucking go. I was his pony. I was his boy. I was his.

When he took me down, it was abrupt, but he was urgent, so I held still and tried to follow what he wanted me to do. He cut me free at my hands, but my legs he kept tied down. He adjusted the slack on them, though, and I held on to the bench, keeping still as he worked. When he took off his shirt, my heart quickened. I held still as he draped it over my shoulder. I watched as he took off his boots and his jeans.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he put my hands on his shoulders, kicked the bench aside, and pushed me backward and down into the hay.

But on the way down, he grabbed that shirt and draped it around my ass, taking a second to make sure the flaming, wounded flesh was protected. I could still feel the hay poking through the cotton fabric as he pressed me down, but the gesture touched me so deeply that I didn't care.

I held still as he trussed my legs up again, opening me wide, reattaching the rope to a bolt on the side of the stall. I watched as he pulled a condom over himself and slicked himself with lube. I moaned as he pulled the dildo out of me and tossed it off to the side.

I raised my arms and looped them around his neck as he pushed inside my body and rode me again.

I forgot I still had the bit in my mouth until I tried to kiss him, and when I realized it was there, my eyes widened in surprise. He just grinned at me and pulled it out, then took hold of my jaw.

“Open,” he told me.

I did. And I moaned as he came inside, fucking me with his tongue as he fucked me with his cock. When he reached down and stroked me, I came with three tugs, I was so turned-on. He, God bless him, took his time, riding me until I was squirming, until I was whining like a dog beneath him. Then he pumped into me with four hard strokes, and he came too.

I wished he were coming inside me for real. I'd never let anybody do that, but I wanted it then, and I wanted it bad. I wanted to feel his spunk leaking out of me. I wanted to feel it fill me. I wanted him to come inside me and plug me up to make me hold it for him. The thought shook me, but it made me go soft in his arms too, made me melt against his sweaty, hairy chest and kiss his neck.

He grabbed the hat, which had fallen off, and slapped it back on my head as he pulled out. “That's your present,” he told me. “Happy birthday.”

That made me laugh, and my smile lingered. It was still there when I tipped the hat rakishly on my head and lay back on the hay as I looked up at him, sated and satisfied. I smiled until he bent down and kissed my mouth again, soft at first, and then hard. I shifted against his shirt, letting him swallow my quiet moan of pain as the hay poked at my welts and as he settled back between my thighs, rubbing his sticky cock against mine as his fingers sought my hole.

I wasn't able to go to work at all the next day, and I couldn't ride a horse for a solid week.

It was pretty much the best fucking birthday ever.

I cooked for him the next day and a lot of days after that.

We had my roast for dinner the day after my birthday, cooked in his oven. He went up to my place to get the stuff, because I really was a sore motherfucker after he was through with me. What I liked was that he never got bent out of shape about that. He just asked if I was hurt, and when I said yes, he tried to apologize, but after I shook my head, he just nipped my shoulder and quietly took care of me.

Honestly, we almost went too far that night, and it's to his credit that he felt bad about it. Technically in that scenario, it was his job to make sure it didn't go too far, but the thing was, it wasn't
really
too far. But as he took care of me later that night and the next day, I watched him carefully, and I figured out why it upset him so much.

“I don't mind a little soreness now and again,” I told him as I lay on the floor on my stomach, propped up on my elbows as I sipped the coffee he'd brought me. “Nothing chases the monkeys out of your head like a sore backside.” I paused, adding because I wanted it to be clear, “I ain't lying about it like whoever used to lie to you.”

He sat down on the floor in front of me and grimaced into his mug. “Riley—the student who came here with me. He did that. Would tell me he was okay when he wasn't.” He traced his finger around the rim. “In and out of bed.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Student?”

He gave me a sly, not-very-apologetic grin. “He was a grad student. He wasn't in any of my courses, but he was still off-limits. Not that this mattered.” He shook his head, smiling in memory. “All he had to do was say, ‘Yes, Dr. Loving,’ and I was lost.” He reached out and stroked my cheek. “That was his bench. We made it together. But he was shorter than you are, so I had to make some modifications.”

I liked how he was touching me so gentle. It made my body hum. “But he didn't like it out here, you said.”

Travis shook his head. “He lied to himself as much as he lied to me. I was angry when he left, but in hindsight, I think it was all he could do. We said we were all about commitment and honesty, and in the end we were both lying. He didn't want to be here. Didn't want to build a ranch with me. A life, yes—but he wanted the life we'd had in Omaha, the life I'd hated. He wanted a nice house and parties. People coming over. Snuggling on the couch.” He frowned. “Well, it's not that I don't like those things. I just—” He sighed and ran his thumb along my lip, looking sad. “He wanted the relationship, wanted the cuddling and soft words and flowers. And just like he didn't tell me he wasn't happy, I didn't tell him either. The only difference is I faked it longer than he did.”