Bondage Ranch

by Roland Graeme

  With each stroke he made into Vaughn, the bones of his hips jabbed into Vaughn’s buttocks with a sharp, bruising impact. His cock felt huge, and very hard—and very hot, like a branding iron inserted into Vaughn’s guts and searing them from the inside. Vaughn lay there under him and groaned, his body trembling not only from the pain, but from the humiliation—both of which Vaughn, perversely, welcomed. Aaron fucked him brutally, using him as though Vaughn was indeed a whore whose services he’d purchased for the night. But Vaughn loved it.

  As the deputy continued to work himself in and out of Vaughn’s hole, the pain ebbed away somewhat. It wasn’t quite as intense as it had been before, but it was still pretty bad, because he was fucking Vaughn like a bull and his cock felt extraordinarily long, thick and inflexible inside him, to say nothing of extremely hot.

  Chapter Twelve: Putting a Sock in It

  “Fuck me, fuck me,” Vaughn heard himself babbling, over and over again.

  “I don’t need your permission to fuck your ass, boy,” Aaron retorted. “And you know what? You talk too much. I think I’m going to have to find some way to shut you up.”

  “You don’t have the balls to do that,” Vaughn taunted.

  “Oh, I don’t, huh? We’ll see. We’ll find out, one way or another, right now. You’re going to wish you hadn’t mouthed off to me, you arrogant little bitch!”

  Without missing a stroke, Aaron leaned over, toward the edge of the bed, and reached downward with his arm. Even with Vaughn’s head turned in that direction, Vaughn couldn’t see what he was fumbling for, on the floor. But then Aaron straightened back up—still plowing away in and out of Vaughn nonstop—and Vaughn saw what he had balled up in his hand. It was the pair of white cotton over-the-calf athletic socks which Aaron had stripped off his feet when they’d gotten undressed.

  “These ought to do the trick,” Aaron said. “They’re good and sweaty and funky from me wearing them inside my boots all day.”

  “You keep those stinking rags away from me.”

  “Shut the fuck up, cunt.”

  As he uttered that pleasantry, Aaron folded up one of the socks and stuffed it into Vaughn’s mouth.

  “There you go. Bite down on that,” he commanded, using his hand under Vaughn’s chin to push his jaw closed. “It might help to take your mind off the pain,” he jeered. “Not that I give a damn, if it doesn’t. Because there’s going to be pain, boy. That’s for damn sure. And you deserve it!”

  Vaughn tried to protest without wanting it to stop, but Aaron’s hand slid up over his chin and he pressed his palm against Vaughn’s mouth, holding the improvised gag in place. Vaughn had no choice but to bite down on the wadded-up cloth. It was damp from Aaron’s sweat and it tasted distinctly funky.

  Vaughn grunted in disgust. Ignoring the sounds he was making, Aaron stretched the other sock around his head to hold the gag in place in his mouth, pulling it taut and tying a knot in it behind Vaughn’s head.

  You fucker! Vaughn tried to yell. But all that emerged from his sock-stuffed mouth was a strangulated groan.

  “There,” Aaron said, with audible satisfaction. “That ought to keep you quiet. Now, you be a good boy. You just stay there and get fucked. Don’t move. Don’t resist. If you do, I swear to God I’ll take my belt and beat your ass until it’s black and blue. I’m going to finish fucking you, now. I’m going to fuck you until I’m ready to come in your ass, then I’m going to do just that. And I want you to keep on squeezing your ass down on my dick and working it, the whole time. That feels good. You’re a good, hot fuck. I’ve got to say that much for you. That’s one hungry hole you’ve got there, bitch!”

  He screwed Vaughn without letup or mercy after that.

  It was such a rough fuck that Vaughn was afraid Aaron might come quickly. But the man possessed an extraordinary stamina. He used Vaughn’s hole for a long time. Both of their bodies were flushed red and wet with sweat from their exertions, as Aaron continued to pound Vaughn’s hole in a way that suggested he was more of a machine than a man.

  But even a stud like Aaron had his breaking point.

  Vaughn heard him let out a cry of savage joy. He thrust harder, and Vaughn knew that he was ejaculating inside him. Aaron’s cock seemed to swell even larger, which Vaughn wouldn’t have thought was possible, and his strokes became shorter, but less controlled and fiercer, jabbing into Vaughn with a punishing force. It felt as though he was lifting Vaughn right off the bed with the impaling strength of his cock. He was fucking Vaughn so hard, in fact, that he pushed Vaughn across the mattress, toward its edge. Vaughn might have fallen off the bed had his fucker not grabbed his arm to steady him.

  Aaron growled his way through his orgasm, uttering a succession of breathless, guttural sounds. When he had finished, he collapsed and lay on top of Vaughn in a sweaty heap of limbs.

  There was silence in the bedroom for a long time, except for the sounds of the two men’s heavy breathing. Finally, Aaron raised himself on one elbow. First, he yanked the gag down around Vaughn’s neck so that he was able to spit out the wadded-out sock he’d been chewing on. Vaughn heard a faint metallic rattling sound. Aaron had found the key to the handcuffs and he was unfastening them. Relieved at being able to use his hands again, Vaughn unknotted the second sock from around his neck and tossed it aside. Then he reached out and caressed Aaron’s hot, sweaty body. Aaron returned his caresses, kissed him on the mouth, then he spoke softly to him.

  “Hot,” he murmured. “That was damn hot.”

  “Yeah,” Vaughan agreed. That was all he could trust himself to say at the moment. Talk about an understatement! He felt slightly stunned in the aftermath of his intense arousal. With Aaron, he’d recaptured the perverse delight in being humiliated which he’d experienced with John Wayne Kearney. But unlike his affair with the foreman, Vaughn’s submission to the deputy had brought him nothing but pleasure.

  “God, I’m fucking exhausted. First all day at work, and then this. That was a real workout.” But Aaron’s tone of voice was more exultant than weary. It sounded rich with contentment. “Are you tired too, buddy?”

  “A little,” Vaughn confessed, smiling happily. “But it was certainly worth it. And I’m not so tired that I’m not ready to do it all over again. All of it, Aaron. Everything! Come on, fuck me again.”

  The deputy let out a groan. “Jesus, you really are a power bottom! Not right now, please,” he pleaded. “Let’s get some sleep. I’m beat. I’ll fuck you again in the morning—okay?”

  “Okay, but I intend to hold you to that promise.”

  Vaughn settled down contentedly in the other man’s embrace.

  Chapter Thirteen: Bound with a Bootlace

  Once again, Vaughn found himself with not one but two regular fuck buddies. But his present situation was a lot more pleasurable than its equivalent back at The Ranch from Hell, where he’d juggled Will and John Wayne Kearney. Vaughn had liked Will—or, more accurately, he’d accepted Will for what he was. He’d both loved and hated Kearney. Now, though, Vaughn definitely liked both Flint and Aaron, without reservations. He couldn’t decide which of them was the more attractive or the better in bed.

  Vaughn was now so comfortable with his sexuality that he didn’t hesitate to confide in his two sex partners. Just as he’d told Aaron about Flint, he also told Flint about Aaron.

  “Your dance card is kind of full, huh?” Flint asked.

  “You jealous?”

  “Of you? Hardly. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Vaughn. I like you, but I don’t want to fucking marry you. Play around with that hot deputy all you want. As long as you still find time to fit me into your busy schedule every now and then. Which reminds me. Shit, we haven’t gotten together to fuck for nearly a week.”

  “I know. I’ll make it up to you,” Vaughn promised.

  “How?”

  “My buddy Darren and I were talking on the computer the other night. He’s going to have another of his sex parties at the e
nd of the month. I told him about you and I asked him if I can bring you along and he said sure. You’ll come, won’t you? We can trade our night off with a couple of the other guys, if we have to.”

  “Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem. And from what you’ve told me about these parties—you bet I’ll come,” Flint declared. “More than once, if I have I anything to say about it. Maybe you ought to invite your fuck buddy Aaron to join us.”

  “Hey, that’s not such a bad idea. The three of us can drive to Darren’s place in my pickup.”

  “Sounds like a plan. But am I really going to have to wait until the end of the month for you to start making it up to me?”

  “Can you hold out until the end of this week? How about you and I get together on Saturday night?”

  “Now you’re talking, buddy.”

  “It’s a date, then,” Vaughn promised.

  The rest of that week on the ranch seemed interminable. Vaughn couldn’t wait for Saturday evening to roll around. Neither he nor Flint had to work on that Sunday morning. That meant Flint could not only come to Vaughn’s room for a hot sex session—they wouldn’t have to rush it, or worry about getting a decent night’s sleep. They could fuck until they wore each other out, then they could spend the night together in Vaughn’s bed. Since they wouldn’t have to get up early the following morning, they could sleep late. And, when they did wake up, they might even indulge in a morning fuck. Vaughn had every intention of glutting himself on sex.

  On Saturday night many of the ranch hands drove into town to get drunk, as usual. Flint and Vaughn remained behind. After waiting for a few moments as a token gesture toward decorum, they quickly retreated to Vaughn’s room.

  “You want whiskey, or a beer?” Vaughn asked.

  “Whiskey,” Flint said. “I’m in the mood for the hard stuff tonight, for some reason. And when I say hard, I’m not talking about just the booze,” he added, with a leer.

  “I like it hard and strong, myself. And I’m not talking just about my taste in liquor, either. I like my men to be hard and strong, too. And potent. As potent as the devil! Get undressed,” Vaughn urged, as he poured them drinks.

  Flint leered at him in a turn. “In a hurry tonight, are you?”

  “I thought you were the one who couldn’t wait. But I admit it. My mouth is watering and my asshole is twitching. They both want cock. It’s all I’ve been able to think about,” Vaughn admitted.

  “Well, slow down, cowboy. We’ve got all night. Put some of that whiskey inside you—then we can decide who’s going to put what else into who, and where.”

  “All right.” Vaughn paused long enough in his shedding of his clothes to sip his drink.

  Flint also began to undress while he drank.

  “Got a little surprise for you,” Vaughn announced.

  “Yeah? What might that be?”

  “Something I think you’ll like.”

  Vaughn opened a drawer in his chest of drawers and took out a little package containing a pair of new rawhide bootlaces. He always kept a supply of such extra items handy, although it hadn’t occurred to him until recently that such utilitarian objects could be useful for more than one function. He tore the package open and extracted one of the laces, unfolding it.

  Flint was looking at him curiously. “What are you planning to do with that?”

  “You’ll see.”

  By then, both men were nude. Vaughn handed Flint the bootlace, then Vaughn turned his back to him and put his hands behind his back, positioning his wrists together, as though he was waiting for a police officer—or the local sheriff’s deputy—to handcuff him.

  “Tie my hands together,” he told Flint. His voice trembled a little—with excitement.

  “Fuck! You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Flint exclaimed.

  “Yeah. Come on, do it. Let’s play a little game.”

  “What kind of a game?”

  “Let’s just call it captor and captive, to begin with, and take it from there. Pretend I’m your prisoner. Let’s see what happens.”

  Flint stepped up close behind Vaughn, looped the rawhide around his wrists, and pulled it taut.

  “Tighter,” Vaughn gasped. “Do it really tight.”

  “If I make it too tight, it’ll cut off your circulation, and your hands will start to go numb,” Flint cautioned him.

  “I’ll let you know if that happens. Go on, fasten it good and tight. I don’t want to be able to get away from you.”

  “Don’t you worry about it. Because you’re not going to get away from me,” the Texan warned him. “I’m going to make damn sure of that.”

  Vaughn was excited by the tough, emphatic tone that had crept into his buddy’s voice.

  Flint secured the improvised restraint with a knot. Vaughn strained his arms, trying to pull his wrists apart. There was no play in the binding. Flint had done a good job.

  Flint took the other lace from the package. “Turn around,” he instructed Vaughn. There was once again a terseness in his voice that suggested he was starting to get into the spirit of their role playing.

  Vaughn obeyed, turning to face him. “What are you going to do?”

  “You’ll see. Don’t talk. Stand still. Don’t move. Don’t resist,” Flint warned his prisoner.

  He took Vaughn’s cock in his hand and manipulated it, roughly, quickly getting it hard. When he was satisfied that Vaughn had achieved his maximum degree of tumescence, he began to wind the second shoelace quite deftly around Vaughn’s cock and balls, using it to create an intricate and tight-fitting genital restraint. When he was finished, Vaughn’s cock jutted out from his groin at an angle. His testicles were not only separated from each other by a loop of the bootlace, the rawhide was wound around the loose skin between the base of his penis and his scrotum as well, pulling his balls up and out, and keeping them in a pronounced swollen state.

  Flint stood there looking down at his crotch, inspecting his handiwork. He slapped Vaughn’s trussed-up prick with the palm of his hand, none too gently, several times, watching how it swayed back and forth.

  He raised his head and looked Vaughn in the eyes. There was a sternness in the set of his features that Vaughn found extremely arousing—and a little frightening, too.

  “All right,” Flint said. “Now that I’ve got you all trussed up, what should I do with you? I know,” he added, without giving Vaughn a chance to answer. “I can do anything to you I damn well feel like doing—and there’s nothing you can do about it, except obey me.”

  Some perverse longing for abuse spurred Vaughn to defy him. “That’s what you think. Go to hell,” Vaughn told him.

  Flint slapped Vaughn’s face.

  “Ow! You son-of-a-bitch. That hurt!”

  “It’s only the beginning of what you’ll get, if you mouth off to me again.”

  “Yeah? Go fuck yourself,” Vaughn said.

  Flint slapped him again, harder.

  “Don’t make me mad,” he warned Vaughn. “I got a mean streak in me, and you don’t want to bring it out.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Vaughn taunted him, recklessly. “Mean streak, my ass! I think you’re a pussy. I think—”

  Flint slapped Vaughn’s face for a third time, really hard that time, his open palm stinging his cheek. Vaughn let out a yelp. Flint was watching him closely Vaughn realized, monitoring his responses, making sure he wasn’t being too rough.

  “You’re not here to think,” Flint said. “You’re here to take my orders, and to get fucked, once I decide to stick my cock in that whore hole of yours.”

  “Hit me again,” Vaughn pleaded, recklessly. “I like it!”

  “Yeah? I can tell you do. Kinky motherfucker. Is this how you like it?”

  As he spoke, he smacked Vaughn’s face again, twice in rapid succession. Vaughn shuddered, and he let out a moan of pure lust. Flint smirked at him. He raised his hand, and Vaughn flinched. But Flint pulled his punch
that time, and he didn’t actually touch him. He was toying with Vaughn.

  Just when Vaughn thought he was safe, Flint quickly spanked his butt with one hand, and at the same moment he slapped Vaughn’s face, really hard, with the other.

  “Ow!” Vaughn yelled. “You dirty son-of-a-bitch!”

  “You’d better watch your mouth. And your manners. Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Flint commented, in a soft, insinuating tone of voice that had a decidedly sinister edge to it. “You like it when a man slaps you around a little. Maybe you like it a little too much, huh? I’m going to have to find out what you don’t like, so I’ll know how to keep you in line.”

  He slapped Vaughn’s other cheek, lightly and teasingly this time. Then he reached down between their bodies. He found the dangling free ends of the bootlace and he yanked down on them, jerking Vaughn’s bound scrotum painfully away from his prick. Vaughn sucked in his breath in a sharp rasp of pain. He looked at his tormentor, silently apologizing, silently pleading for mercy.

  “Yeah,” Flint gloated, staring into Vaughn’s eyes as he maintained the tension on the lace, tugging on it as though it was a leash. “You don’t like that so much, do you? It hurts, doesn’t it? And not in the way you like to be hurt, you horny little bottom boy. Okay, now we know. You give me any lip, or you refuse to do anything I tell you to do, and I swear to God I’ll give your balls such a stretching, they’ll stay stretched. I may even yank the fuckers right off and castrate you.” And, to drive his point home, he gave Vaughn’s genitals another vicious tug, making him moan in protest.