Cowgirl 3

He called. He wants a cowgirl ride.

I don't say anything, just hang up.

He's not asking. We both know it.

I just get ready.

I'm basically clean, so no shower.

He likes it rough, anyway.

I undress, sit on the sofa.

Wait.

I hear the key in the lock, I climb on the ottoman.

Hands and knees.

My head's down, waiting.

He comes in, ties a scarf around my head.

He likes me blindfolded.

Roughly, he pulls my arms behind my back, ties them.

My ass is in the air, just like he likes it.

I'm helpless, but it doesn't matter.

I've already surrendered.

Submitted.

I hear him pull off his tie, jacket, shirt, shoes, socks.

I hear the belt and zipper, the pants slide off, then the underpants.

So far, neither of us has uttered a word.

I feel his hand on my bottom, softly, sweet caressing, his fingertips just touching the soft warm flesh.

Now he kneads it, still tenderly. He loves my ass. It's an object, though, not part of a real person.

He doesn't love me, really, but he loves loving me.

He moves beside me, I feel him fastening the collar around my neck.

His hand rubs my spine, down, up, down, ending with a finger over my anus.

It circles, circles, circles, finally he penetrates me.

It 's not foreplay. All of this is for him.

It's not that he doesn't, well, he doesn't care, not really.

He just uses me.

I have to let him.

He uses my body, obviously, but he uses me, too.

I must respond.

His domination denies me the privilege of refusing to enjoy our scenarios.

He harnesses the reins to a bit, then places the bridle over my head.

This fastens to the collar and buckles around my head.

He holds the reins in one hand, a crop in the other.

He moves behind me. I feel his erection, he backs up, rubs some lubricant over my pussy, pushes some inside me with two fingers.

Next, he mounts me.

No fucking, really, he just shoves it in.

All the way.

Now, he buckles a harness around our legs. Our thighs are loosely coupled with some leather straps, connected with some metal fixtures. Part of each fixture is a sleigh bell.

Yes, I swear it.

Sleigh bells.

Now, he touches me with the crop. Just a touch.

I begin moving as much as I can, given that we're coupled.

In three places.

I don't have much room to move back and forth, but I use what I have.

I can move up and down, side to side.

I can rotate, moving in a circle.

I do all these things, singly and in combination, hoping to please him.

Finally, he cries, "Yes, Yes!"

This encourages me. I keep trying different motions, feel him harden inside me.

He moves, too, the sensation is pleasant to him.

He slashes me with the crop, anyway.

I scream.

It hurts!

He loves it when I scream.

Unfortunately, he pulls the bit to silence me.

My scream chokes in the middle.

I wiggle furiously, trying to find a new rhythm.

It doesn't matter.

He crops me, again.

Another scream, choked, more wriggling.

I begin moaning, "Please, no more, please, I'll do anything!"

He bridles me, silencing me.

Crops me again.

I scream.

I'm sobbing, I lose control, I'm still trying to please him.

He loves the sobbing. He knows when it's real.

I feel him stiffen, begin to throb inside me.

He drops the reins and crop, grasps my waist, pulls me to him.

His ejaculation is so hot, so full, the juice is running out of me, down my thighs.

He cries out his pleasure.

Finishing, he unbuckles us, walks around in front of me.

Removes the bridle, shoves his penis in my mouth.

I clean him.

I'm crying, but I clean him.

He finishes, dresses, leaves.

When I hear the key in the lock, I wiggle out of the scarves. They're not tight.

Just symbolic.

I get up, run over to the full length mirror.

There's no blood, not even a red mark.

I still don't know how he does it.

Nothing but our juices running down the inside of my legs.

I adjust the video camera, put a towel on the sofa, sit, rub myself to orgasm.

I download the video, email it to him.

I'll take that shower, now.

First I have to clean the leather.

Put it away.

For next time.