Picture Perfect Cowboy

by Tiffany Reisz

  “Spread your legs wide,” he said.

  Gracefully, she lifted her right foot and, with her toe pointed like a ballerina, placed it onto the floor, leaving a good foot and a half between her ankles. Without waiting for his order, she arched her back, which lifted her hips. An invitation. He accepted it. He hooked his finger under the edge of her thong and slid it down, down, over the curve of her soft ass and down to her pussy, which was bare of hair and warm against his knuckles. He pushed the crotch of her panties over to the side. She was pink here, too, pink and red and wet enough he could see it shimmer. He spread her wider with his fingers, spread her wide enough he was worried he might be hurting her. She groaned a little, but it didn’t seem to be a groan of pain.

  “Pretty pussy. Pretty ass,” he said and couldn’t believe those words came out of the same mouth that sang hymns every Sunday morning at the First Presbyterian Church.

  Simone said nothing and he wondered if he’d gone too far.

  “You don’t say thank you when a man pays you a compliment like that?” he asked.

  “I’ll say anything you tell me to, sir,” she said. Her voice was small and girlish, almost timid and sweet as pie.

  Sir.

  Jason closed his eyes and let that word wash all over him like healing water. “Sir?” he repeated.

  “Would you prefer I call you Master Jason?” she asked.

  Would he? He might, but he might also faint if she did. He was so hard already that if she got him any harder he’d pass out from loss of blood in the brain.

  “Sir is just fine,” he said. “Now I want you to say thank you when I pay you a compliment.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. He could tell she meant it.

  “Good girl.”

  He wanted to go inside her and he wanted to do it without asking permission first. He wanted to stick his fingers in her like he had every right to do it, like he was a man walking into a house he’d paid for in cash. She had said he could, and there was only one way to find out if she meant it. Jason pushed three fingers into her vagina. He went in slow but not too slow. He pressed firmly, purposefully, and all the way up to the knuckles. Simone’s pussy clenched around his fingers but not to push him out. She didn’t say her safe word. Instead she moaned a long, low “fuck…”

  “I don’t like language like that from my girl,” he said. “That’s not how ladies talk.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, breathless.

  “I’m gonna have to punish you for that. Just so you’ll remember for next time.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  Jason pulled his fingers out of her and the way she groaned, he wondered if that was punishment enough. Maybe for her, but not for him. He stood to the side of her hip and lifted his hand, ready to swat her ass. He stopped, hand a foot from her flesh. This was it. First time in his life he ever raised his hand to strike a woman. A wave of dizziness hit him. He felt momentarily sick to his stomach. Then Simone spoke again, in her sweet, tender voice.

  “I deserve it,” she said. “And I want to learn to be better.”

  She must have sensed his hesitation, sensed the reason for it.

  “There’s two ways to do things,” he said. “My way and your way. We’re going to do things my way. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He raised his hand higher, two feet from her flesh. She arched her back again, lifting her hips once more. Another invitation. Once more, he accepted it. He slapped her hard, a sharp slap, right on the center of her left cheek. It made a loud quick sound, almost like a pop, and when he looked down at her, he saw the red outline of his hand on her skin. It looked so sexy on her, that handprint, that he gave her one on the right cheek, as well.

  After, Jason had to stop and take a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

  “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, asking himself and her at the same time.

  “No, sir.”

  Jason allowed himself a few more breaths to settle down. He felt drunk, stoned, manic and high and all at the same time. He needed to get control of himself and fast. He had a girl to take care of and he couldn’t take care of her if he wasn’t in complete control of himself.

  “Stand up,” he said. Simone stood. He took her by the waist and turned her to face him. They were hip to hip and chest to chest but not eye to eye. She kept her eyes lowered, out of respect.

  “You’re gonna do a couple things for me right now,” he said. She nodded, agreeing before he’d even told her what to do. “You’re gonna go out that door over there and through the living room. You’ll go up the stairs. At the top of the stairs there’s a bathroom and two bedrooms. I want you in the blue bedroom. When you get up there, you’re going to turn the bed down, nice and neat. Understand?”

  “Nice and neat,” she repeated. “Yes, sir.”

  “There’s a rug on the floor. I want you to kneel on it with your back to the door and wait for me. It’ll be a few minutes, but I’ll be there real soon. Go on now.” He snapped his fingers and pointed.

  Without another word she padded from the kitchen in her white socks and out the door he’d shown her. He heard her on the steps, going quick, which made him grin. When he gave an order, she hopped to it.

  Jason sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the floor where Simone’s jeans laid in a pile at his feet. Proof. Proof this was really happening. He put his elbows on the table and rested his face in the cradle of his hands. He inhaled the scent of Simone’s body on his fingers. He’d done it. He’d hit a girl with his own hands and the world hadn’t ended. He looked for his guilt, his shame, couldn’t find it anywhere. That was nice. It had run off and hid for the day. He knew he’d see it again before long but for now, he’d enjoy his time without it.

  After one more deep breath, Jason stood up. He felt calm but excited, like he always felt before a ride. He might have ridden eighteen-hundred-pound bulls but nothing had scared him quite like taking those steps upstairs to the guest room where he’d sent Simone. He looked through the door and saw she’d done everything he’d ordered. The bed was neatly turned back, she knelt on the floor, and she wore just her underwear and his shirt, which she’d knotted under her breasts. He left her on the floor waiting while he went into his bedroom and found the box of condoms under his bathroom sink. That wasn’t all he wanted, though. In his closet, way in the back corner, he found a riding crop he’d bought at a horse tack store in California, one of the fancy ones that sold dressage and show-jumping equipment. He’d been drawn to the crop at first sight. A jumping bat, it was called. Shorter than a regular riding crop with a wide flapper at the end, big as his palm and smooth brown leather. The lady had asked him if he trained show horses, and he’d lied and said he did.

  He returned to the guest room and found Simone still there on the floor, kneeling like he’d ordered. He walked around her, studying her face. Her eyes were lowered again and the expression she wore was one of complete peace. No fear. Not even nervousness. Her confidence gave him confidence.

  He pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it on the floor.

  Jason extended the crop and put the leather flapper under her chin, lifting it. He’d done that a thousand times in a thousand fantasies but this was the first time he’d ever done it to a real person in real life. His head swam. He swallowed hard before he could speak.

  “You’re a good little slave,” he said softly.

  “Thank you, sir,” she whispered.

  “I haven’t kissed you yet. I keep thinking I ought to do that.”

  “My body’s yours, sir,” she said. “Every part of it.”

  “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked.

  “I want what you want, sir.”

  “I want you to tell me if you want me to kiss you.”

  “Yes, sir. I would love it if you kissed me.”

  “If you’re a good girl for me, maybe you’ll earn a kiss or two.”

  He’d said that a thousand times in
his fantasies. Earn it. Do it. Obey me. Lay there. Spread for me. Take it. Take all of it…

  But even in his wildest fantasies he never dreamed he’d meet a girl who wanted to hear those words as much as he wanted to say them.

  He lowered the crop to his side and stepped forward, right in front of her.

  “Take my cock out,” he said to her, another line from a thousand fantasies. “Suck it.”

  She didn’t hesitate one second before lifting her hands to unbutton his jeans, to push the denim open and aside to get to him. She wrapped both her small hands around him as she brought the tip to her lips.

  “Take it,” he said. “Right now. Every inch.”

  She obliged him with a smile, drawing his cock into her mouth, into her throat. The wet heat of her tongue was heaven. He hadn’t had sex in a couple months, and the most recent time had been awkward and disappointing for the both of them. But this was everything he’d wanted for as long as he could remember wanting this. Jason slipped the crop’s strap over his wrist and cupped the back of Simone’s head in his hands. Gently he moved his hips, fucking her mouth as she sucked him and stroked him. Jason could barely contain himself as she pulled him into her mouth over and over again, rubbed him and pleasured him. Everything was so tight inside him. Every muscle was tense and every nerve vibrated. He could come at any moment.

  “Slow down,” he said softly and she let up on the intensity. “That’s good. I’m going to come on you. When I tap you with the crop, you’re going to sit back and open your shirt.” She managed somehow to both nod in agreement and keep sucking him at the same time. God, she was good at this.

  Jason took his crop in hand again. Now that he wasn’t trying to hold off coming, he let himself gaze down at her, watch her. He committed the images to memory—her pink lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes closed in concentration, her bare feet against the rug, his hands twined in her soft hair. He looked up and caught a glimpse of them in the mirror that hung on the back of the door. Simone on her knees with his cock in her mouth and him standing, looming over her with a crop in his hand. Was that him? Really him? The sort of man who did this to women? Made one serve him sexually like a slave? Apparently so. The mirror didn’t lie.

  The pressure built so hard Jason had to close his eyes. A groan escaped his throat. His hips moved of their own accord. He needed to come. He’d die if he didn’t. He struck the side of Simone’s thigh with the crop and she immediately pulled back and with both hands untied the knot and let the shirt fall open. She had beautiful large breasts and red nipples. He came at the sight of them, at the sight of her arching her back, offering herself to him. With his cock in his hand, he came on her chest, on her breasts and stomach and neck in heady, hard spurts. Soft sounds escaped his lips. The pleasure was as intense as he’d ever felt it.

  He could barely stand when he’d finished, he was so spent. With his crop he motioned for Simone to lie on the bed. She stretched out on her back and he straddled her hips. He gathered both of her wrists in one hand and pressed them over her head into the sheets. When she was pinned there, covered in his come, looking like every dream he’d ever had in his entire adult life, he finally kissed her.

  Six

  Simone shivered with need and anticipation as Jason straddled her stomach and leaned in to kiss her.

  He’d put his fingers inside her pussy, spanked her, and she’d sucked him until he’d come all over her. And yet, they hadn’t kissed yet. Not once.

  The kiss was more arousing to Simone than if he’d just spent an hour spanking her or fingering her. Her clients never kissed her on the mouth, and she’d been so busy with work, she hadn’t been kissed in a long time. Jason looked so sexy looming over her, his strong hand holding her down on the bed. She panted with excitement and Jason gazed at her come-covered breasts as they rose and fell with her every breath.

  She’d pleased him. She knew it. And she took enormous pride in that knowledge. She could hardly stop smiling enough to kiss him back when his lips finally met hers. Then he slipped his tongue into her mouth and that was the end of the smiling. The kiss was rough and possessive. He bit her bottom lip and thrust his tongue back into her mouth to make sure she understood he was completely in control of her body.

  She understood perfectly.

  Simone moaned as he fucked her mouth with his tongue. Years of Jason’s pent-up need to dominate came out all at once. She was so glad she got to be his very first. She already wanted to be his second and his third and his…

  Jason pulled back from the kiss and looked down at her body again.

  “I marked you,” he said.

  He laid his hand flat on her stomach and slowly massaged his semen into her skin. He rubbed it into her chest and then finally, her breasts. His hand was large and warm and rough on her skin. He cupped her breasts, held them, squeezed them, massaged his come into her until the mark of him was deep in her, deeper than her skin.

  “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Jason asked as he continued to rub her breasts. He pinched her nipples lightly, then harder, then harder than that.

  “I was um…thinking about photographs,” she said.

  “Really? Should I punish you for that? I think you should be thinking about me, just me.”

  “I mean, I was thinking about you and photographs,” she said quickly, not that she minded being punished, not at all, not the way Jason did it. “I’m a professional photographer so I put this thing on my pictures so people will know they belong to me. It’s called a watermark. I was just thinking about you marking me like that. Different kind of mark. Same principle. Sir.”

  “You’re marking me, too,” he said, the mask of the stern dominant slipping for a moment to reveal the brave yet scared man behind it.

  And as the mask slipped so did his grip on her wrists. Simone wriggled her hand free and reached up to touch his face.

  That was a mistake.

  Jason grabbed her wrist again and pushed it hard into the bed. “Did I tell you could do that?” he asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “You’re handsome,” she said. “Sir.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, and she could tell it was killing him not to laugh at her feeble excuse for such a terrible act of disobedience.

  “You’re going to be punished for that,” he said.

  Oh, no.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Sorry’s good,” he said. “But sometimes sorry’s not enough. You understand that, don’t you?”

  She nodded, biting her bottom lip in mostly feigned nervousness. This was the most fun she’d had submitting to someone in a long time.

  “I’m going to turn you over my knee,” he said. “But only because it’s how you learn to behave.”

  He let her up but only so she could roll over and lie across his thighs. Jason brought his hand down hard and the sound of the smack on her ass reverberated through the entire room, as did the sound of her gasp of pain.

  The man had one hell of an arm.

  He struck her a dozen more times, good hard strikes. The man could spank like he was born for the job and had on-the-job training. And when he’d tired of spanking her, he used the crop on her next. Four quick hits right on the reddest, most tender spot. She actually cried out in pain, genuine pain. And the sound of her sudden squeal shocked her so much she laughed.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said quickly, before he could demand the reason for her laughter. Her only response would be “temporary hysteria.”

  “For what? Laughing?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You think I don’t like your laugh?”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was laughing at you, sir. I was laughing at how hard I screamed.”

  “I know you were,” he said. His voice was smooth and steady and in charge. “You think I don’t want a happy slave in my bed? If you’re not happy serving me, then it’s me doing somethi
ng wrong, not you.”

  “You’re doing everything right then, sir.”

  “Am I?”

  “You are, sir,” she said. “Because I’m very, very happy.”

  Her smile widened as Jason dipped his head and kissed that burning red spot his hand and crop had left on her ass. Or butt. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say ass. Maybe she’d say it anyway just to find out. She might get another spanking if she did, though.

  Oh, the horror. Not that.

  “Turn over,” he said. Simone obliged. She winced as her sore skin hit his sheets. “You just lie there and rest. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Yes, sir.” She wanted to ask him where he was going but she kept her obedient little mouth shut.

  Jason returned a couple minutes later with two bottles of water in his hands. He set them on the nightstand and rejoined her in bed.

  “Sit up,” he said. She sat up. “Here. I don’t want you getting thirsty.”

  He gave her the bottle of water and she drank deeply. She’d done a lot of panting and cock-sucking in the last half hour. She needed that water more than she’d realized. But he’d realized it.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “You take good care of your property.”

  “You feeling all right?” he asked.

  “Wonderful.” She grinned at him.

  “Are you? You aren’t just saying that?”

  Simone shifted sideways on the bed to face him where he sat with his back against the headboard.

  “This is me,” she said. “This is who I am. Sir.”

  “Are you really a slave?”

  “I could be,” she said. “For the right master.”

  “All day and all night?” he said. “Always on duty?”

  She nodded. “I think I could. I’ve dreamed about it.”

  “You have?”

  “Of course,” she said. “You’ve had dreams about it, right? Are you really surprised I have, too?”

  “It seems much more fun doing what I do,” he said.

  “Well, that’s because some people are the spankers…and some are the spankees.”