Bull Rider Training

This story is entirely fictional and the characters herein are also fictional and any association with persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The story may contain sexual references or behavioral as well as graphic descriptions that might be considered pornographic. If such things are offensive or distasteful to you, the reader, please cease reading immediately and move on. All characters are above the age of consent.

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When Monique walked into the dimly lit bar every pair of male eyes in the room instinctively turned towards her. Tall, slender and wearing a tight-fitting black evening dress, it was difficult to tell her age. The fullness of her bosom and the deep cleavage that it produced was hard to ignore. Her hair was full and professionally coiffed such that the shiny jet-blackness of it framed her aquiline features as if she was walking through wind.

The bright, shiny redness of her lip gloss highlighted the disdainful pout of her full lips. She wore high black pumps that only amplified her height and as she walked gave the slightest rhythm to her firm buttocks outlined by the tight fabric of her dress.

Men would say that her legs went on forever. Other women in the room acknowledged the fact that she was the alpha-female by staring at her in the same way that the men they were with did--turning away embarrassed and in deference as she passed.

Monique was on a mission and that goal was the cowboy sitting at the bar nursing a beer. In contrast to her he was simple, but manly and virile given his broad shoulders and tight waist.

A Stetson hat, checkered western shirt, tight wrangler jeans and snakeskin boots completed his ensemble and made him hard to miss in the environs of a Hyatt Regency hotel. He was young, barely twenty-one and possessing rosy cheeks that belied the dark mask of the five-o'clock shadow that was just beginning to bloom across his square-jawed face.

"May I join you?" Monique asked as she drew close enough to him that he could smell the exotic fragrance of her perfume.

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am," he coughed as he tried to rise to his feet in the fog of beer and his depressed mood.

"No, don't get up," she chided as she slid into the barstool beside him.

The few men who had been watching her entrance turned back to their companions or to the game on the widescreen, uttering a gentle sigh that confirmed that they would not be the ones leaving with her that evening--she had made her choice.

The bartender came quickly from the opposite side of the bar to see what she was drinking.

"A Manhattan, neat," she breathed huskily. The barkeep nodded and went off to fix her drink.

"So you are Jock."

"Yes'm, I am indeed. You must be Miss Monique, my Grandpappy told me to wait here for you."

"Very good, I like a boy that knows what is going on. You know why I am here, don't you?"

"Yes'm, I reckon I do."

Her eyes went to his huge belt-buckle and could not help but notice the sharp outline of his cock and balls against the tight fabric of the jeans he wore. She marveled at the size of his equipment given his short stature. No wonder, she thought to herself, there was a problem.

"That's quite a buckle you are wearing."

"Thank you, Ma'am, I won it at the finals two years ago."

"...and you haven't won one since, am I correct?" and with that she reached out to touch the buckle, seeing how heavy it was, made of gold and silver and etched with the PBR logo and "World Champion Bull Rider."

"That's right Ma'am. My Granpappy and I are hoping you can help with that."

Her hand slipped down off the buckle and her fingers pressed gently against the bulge of one of Jock's balls. He gasped loudly.

"I think I can," she said as she began to rub his tightly confined nut with the tips of her fingers.

She could see his cock stiffening and stretching out under the fabric covering his leg. He was breathing heavily now, shooting furtive glances around the darkened room to see if any one could see what she was doing.

"Here's your drink, Ma'am," the bartender said as he set her Manhattan in front of her. He could see her hand rubbing Jock's crotch and he smiled knowingly at him and then walked away.

A deep red flush flowed up out of Jock's collar, turning his neck red and putting beads of sweat on his forehead.

Monique grabbed Jock's crotch fully, squeezing his package. Again he gasped.

"These are mine now, do you understand?," she asked as she rapidly tapped both his balls with her fingers.

"Yes'm, I do."

"Good, so tell me what brought me here tonight."

Jock cleared his throat and the red flush at his neck flowed quickly up into his face.

"Granpappy says I been rollin' my own too much and that's why I ain't been winning any rides."

"You've been smoking pot?," Monique asked with fake surprise as she continued to rub Jock's crotch.

"Uh, no ma'am! That's not what he meant," Jock was grimacing now, trying to maintain control and losing the battle to Monique's ministrations.

"You know, I been tryin' make calves without a heifer in the room!"

"Oh, I see," she said soothingly, "you do a lot of MASTURBATING."

A number of people nearby stopped talking and looked over to where they sat at the end of the bar. Jock heard a few deep-throated chuckles.

"Another round?" the bartender, who had appeared from nowhere, asked. He had a huge grin on his face as he stared at Jock's crotch, Monique's hand clearly rubbing his package.

"No, we're done here, thanks very much. Jock, pay the man, we're leaving."

Monique stood and Jock scrambled to his feet, fishing out his wallet. He pulled a pair of twenty's out and laid them on the bar. The bartender's eyes were riveted to Jock's erection, which pointed prominently down his leg.

"Look," he said, "if it doesn't work out with her give me a call," as he slid a card towards Jock.

"I don't think so buddy, just 'cause I ain't got a heifer in the room don't mean I want a bull."

As Jock turned to follow Monique out of the bar he drew as many stares as she did. Everyone was looking at the pole shooting down the leg of his jeans. The men were envious and the women longing. It was pretty clear to the crowd what had happened at the bar and there would be quite a few happy endings that night--but not for Jock.

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Monique led Jock to the elevator, her heels clicking authoritatively on the marble floor. As they waited, she turned to him and ran her hand down his chest, feeling the firmness of his pectorals.

"You're in excellent shape," she noted. "That's good. You'll need your stamina."

The elevator dinged and they stepped inside. As soon as the doors closed, Monique pushed Jock against the wall and pressed her body against his. She could feel his erection straining against her thigh.

"Listen carefully," she whispered in his ear. "From this moment on, you do exactly as I say. Your pleasure is no longer your own. It belongs to me. Understand?"

Jock nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yes ma'am."

"You will only speak when spoken to," she continued.

"Yes ma'am," he replied.

The elevator stopped and Monique led him into the garage to her car, a late model Bentley Flying Spur. As she approached the trunk lid opened automatically.

"Get in," she said simply.

Jock climbed in without hesitation and as she closed the lid she said "Good boy."

The drive was smooth but long. Jock could feel every turn and acceleration as he lay cramped in the trunk, his erection painfully constrained in his tight jeans. He tried to shift positions but there wasn't enough room. The air grew stuffy and warm.

After what seemed like forever, the car finally came to a stop. Jock heard the click of Monique's heels approaching, then the trunk popped open. The cool night air rushed in, bringing relief.

"Out," Monique commanded.

Jock climbed out awkwardly, his legs stiff from being folded up for so long. They were parked in front of an imposing stone mansion, hidden behind high walls and an ornate iron gate.

Monique led him inside, through a grand foyer and down a staircase to the cellar. At the bottom of the stairs was a room with a large and imposing metal door on each of the remaining walls, each with a sign--GOOD, BAD, and UGLY and a touchpad.

Monique placed her index finger against the touchpad on the "GOOD" door. Jock heard a loud click and the door swung open into a narrow, dimly lit corridor.

As they stepped into the corridor, the heavy metal door clanged shut behind them. The air was cool and slightly musty. Jock's eyes adjusted to the dim light as Monique led him forward.

They came to another door at the end of the corridor. Monique pressed her palm to a scanner and it slid open with a soft hiss. Jock's jaw dropped as they entered a large, circular room.

The space was filled with an array of strange and intimidating equipment. Leather straps hung from the ceiling. Odd contraptions and devices lined the walls. In the center stood a padded table with restraints at each corner.

"Strip," Monique commanded. "Everything off and into the box there on the floor."

Jock hesitated for just a moment before complying. He removed his hat, shirt, boots, and jewelry, laying them carefully in the box Monique had indicated.

When he was finished he stood awkwardly in front of Monique, his hands covering his crotch.

She had selected a crop from the many implements that filled one of the racks attached to the walls. Now she slapped Jock's folded hands smartly and he yelped.

"Hands on your head!" she ordered, "Now turn slowly so that I can have a look at you."

Jock obeyed, placing his hands on his head and turning around. Monique's eyes roamed over his muscular body, taking in every detail. His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, his abs defined and taut. His thighs were thick and powerful from years of gripping bucking bulls. And between those thighs, his impressive manhood hung heavy, already beginning to swell under her scrutiny.

"Very nice," Monique commented. "You have an excellent physique. But that's not why you're here, is it?"

"No ma'am," Jock replied, his voice husky.

"That's right. You're here because you can't keep your hands off yourself. Because you'd rather play with your own cock than focus on your riding."

She circled him slowly, the crop tapping against her thigh. "Well, that ends now.

She pointed the crop at a flogging horse and said, "Get on it."

Jock hesitated, eyeing the restraints at the base of each leg warily.

"Now!" Monique snapped, bringing the crop down sharply across his backside.

Jock squealed and scrambled onto the padded bench. Monique quickly secured his wrists and ankles with the leather cuffs, leaving him spread over the bench with his ass held high and vulnerable.

Then she began methodically whipping him, her crop skillfully and rapidly covering his backside and thighs with bright red marks. Jock gritted his teeth, this wasn't unlike the whippings he had received from his Daddy back in the woodshed on their farm and later from his grandfather after his father passed.

Monique continued the whipping, alternating between quick stinging strikes and slower, heavier blows.

Jock's buttocks and thighs were soon a deep crimson, crisscrossed with angry welts. He grunted and gasped with each strike, his body tensing and relaxing in waves.

Despite the pain - or perhaps because of it - Jock's cock had grown fully erect, bobbing between his spread legs with each impact of the crop. Monique noticed and paused her assault, reaching between his thighs to grasp his shaft.

"My, my," she chuckled. "It seems you're enjoying this more than you should be."

She gave his cock a few firm strokes, causing Jock to moan and push back against her hand. "Ah ah," she chided, releasing him. "Remember, this belongs to me now."

Then she brought her crop smartly down onto his erection and on the upward stroke directly under his low hanging and exposed balls.

Jock screeched and then tensed so strongly that Monique thought for a moment that he might snap one of the restraints off.

"Now then, who owns these?" Monique asked as she knelt and took his now deflated cock and balls in her hand.

"You do, ma'am." Jock replied gasping as his legs twitched in the restraints.

"Call me Mistress," Monique said as she stood and turned towards the door.

"Yes, Mistress," Jock replied as she walked out and the lights in the room switched off.

Jock remained bound in total darkness, his body aching from the whipping. He could hear his own ragged breathing echoing in the silent room. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he waited, unsure what would happen next. In spite of his position over the bench and his restraints, he dozed off and on as the minutes stretched to hours.

Eventually, the door opened with a soft hiss. Jock squinted against the sudden light, trying to make out Monique's silhouette.

"Rise and shine, Jock." Monique said cheerfully as she undid his restraints. He stood up painfully after having spent the night across the bench.

That was when he noticed that there was someone else. It was a skinny, naked older man wearing some sort of metal contraption at his groin and nothing else.

"This is Weezil," Monique said as an introduction, then "Weezil, take Jock to the slaves quarters and get him some breakfast and let him use the bathroom, then put him in BAD in ceiling restraint."

"Yes, Mistress," Weezil said bowing. Weezil waited until Monique left the room and then turned to Jock, "Please follow me."

Jock followed Weezil out of the dungeon room and up the narrow staircase he had used the day before. He didn't quite know what ceiling restraint in the BAD room was, but he wasn't going to let it worry him. His muscles ached from being restrained all night, and his backside still stung from the whipping. As they walked, Jock couldn't help but stare at the strange metal device encasing Weezil's genitals.

"What's that thing you're wearing?" Jock asked quietly.

Weezil glanced down. "It's my cage. Mistress keeps me locked up when I'm not servicing her directly."

Jock's eyes widened. "How long have you been wearing it?"

"It's been at least a year since Mistress last removed it," Weezil replied casually, "I don't think much about it."

Jock swallowed hard, wondering if a similar fate awaited him.

At the top of the stairs Weezil led Jock down a back corridor that was lined with doors, like a dormitory or hotel. At the end of the corridor it opened to a small kitchen with a table and some chairs at the center.

"The bathroom is through that door," Weezil said, pointing to a small doorway in one wall.

The bathroom was just a toilet and a small sink. After Jock finished he went back out and saw that a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water were waiting for him on the table.

Jock sat down and dug into the oatmeal while Weezil looked on. "I guess your not joining me," he said between mouthfuls.

"I ate earlier," Weezil replied, "We aren't much on formalities here in the slave quarters."

"How many 'slaves' are there?" Jock asked.

"Just me and I guess you, right now." Weezil said, "But to be honest I don't know what Mistress has planned for you."

"Neither do I," Jock laughed darkly.

Weezil led Jock back through the house to the 'BAD' room. It was smaller than the 'GOOD' room, but basically empty except for a cable that came down from the ceiling fitted with a pair of cuffs. Weezil put the cuffs on Jock and then pressed a switch on the wall that caused the cable to retract into the ceiling, lifting Jock's arms up above his head.

Then Weezil left the room, but thankfully the lights stayed on. Jock did not have long to wait before the door opened and Monique entered the room followed by an older gentleman carrying a large briefcase.

"I'll leave you to your work, Helmet, just send me the bill, you know your way out." Monique said and then left.

Jock watched as the man put his case on a small table that he set next to where Jock was hanging. Then he grabbed a chair and sat down directly in front of Jock's crotch and opened his case.

Jock was thinking nervously that the man was there to fit him with a chastity device like Weezil had, but he didn't see anything like it in the case, just various parts and dividers that made no sense to him.

The man took Jock's penis and looked at it closely. "This is some piece of equipment you have here young man.' he said as he admired the size of Jock's dick.

"Thank you, sir...I guess." Jock replied. He had become more curious about what was going to happen, but he decided it was best to speak only when spoken to.

The man let go of his penis and then selected what looked like a tapered metal rod from his case.

"I'm afraid this will sting a bit, Monique doesn't allow any pain killer during fittings." Before Jock could react the man had taken his penis back in his hand and pushed the metal rod into his pee-hole.

"Yeow!" Jock yelled and bucked a bit, but the man was holding him tightly as he pushed the rod in and out.

"OK," he said, "Looks like a 10, that's the biggest I have."

Again he went back to his case and pulled out a small metal tube that he fitted a string to.

"Deep breath," he said as he pushed the small tube into the end of Jock's dick.

"Uhhhhh..." Jock said as the tube was pushed in. Then the man threaded a small metal ring onto the strings that were now hanging out of Jock's pee hole.

He fiddled with it and Jock was unable to see exactly what he was doing, but it stung like no tomorrow so all he could do was take deep breaths to try to ease the pain.

"There," the man said, "The worst is over," and Jock gave a sigh of relief. As the man rummaged in his case Jock could see that the end of the metal tube, which was threaded, was poking out of his pee hole. The string was still attached, threaded through holes on each side of the exposed part of the tube.

"Here we go," the man said as he held up what looked to be a woven metal sleeve. He slipped it over Jock's dick and pulled on the string. Jock felt pressure as his dick slipped through the sleeve until the threaded tube poked through a metal cap that was attached to the end of the sleeve.

Then the man put a metal ring over the threaded tube and tightened it in place with a small tool.

Closing his case and standing, the man said to Jock, "All done, I hope Monique is satisfied with your new tetherspout. Aircraft grade titanium."

"My what?" Jock asked, looking down at his metal encased dick.

"Tetherspout." the man replied. "The only equally secure way to enforce chastity is with a piercing."

The man left Jock to contemplate his new 'equipment' and after a short while Weezil appeared and let him down.

"Mistress wants to see you in her study," he said, "I think she wants to see your tetherspout."

"I'm not quite sure I know how it works," Jock said.

"Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough," Weezil replied with a knowing smirk.

Weezil led Jock through the opulent mansion to Monique's study. The room was elegantly furnished with dark wood and leather, bookshelves lining the walls. Monique sat behind an imposing desk, her eyes lighting up when she saw Jock's new addition.

"Excellent," she said. "Come closer so I can inspect it."

Jock approached hesitantly, his face flushed with embarrassment. Monique circled him slowly, admiring the gleaming metal sheath encasing his manhood.

"Very nice craftsmanship," she remarked. "How does it feel?"

"It's... uncomfortable, Mistress," Jock admitted.

"Good. That's the point."

She ran her fingers along the metal mesh. "This will ensure that you don't indulge in any unauthorized releases." she instructed, pulling on the end, lifting it in different directions. "You can urinate with it on just as it is, but that's about it. We'll experiment with it later in terms of penetration and PIV response."