To Brea a Filly

He came to her in the night while she slept. She woke when she heard the heels of his boots approaching but she remained calm and still. She didn't want him to know just yet that she was awake. She had been waiting, knowing that he would come to her and now that he had, she wanted to see what his next action would be. He stood staring down at her for the longest time. Lindsay could feel the cowboy's eyes roaming her body once more, admiring every curve as he had earlier the previous day. The excitement she felt at being watched so blatantly was creating a warm tension in her stomach.

Curious to find out exactly how far she could push his obvious desires, she decided to play her own little game. She rolled onto her back, showing off her full breasts. Her nipples betrayed her, standing erect though the night air was warm and humid. She didn't dare open her eyes but imagined his half-smirk as clearly as if she were looking directly at him. She allowed the leg closest to him to fall over the side of the cot, hoping to casually spread her legs and offer him the opportunity to see her wetness for himself. He took the bait.

She heard him quietly close in on her, heading straight for the spot between her legs. She continued to feign sleep. He came to rest at her feet, drinking in the sopping sight before him. Pushing him further, she stretched her fingers down to rest on her sensitive mons. This motion, forced her elbows to straighten and her breasts to come together. From his vantage point, she imagined that he would have a wonderfully irresistible view of her cleavage. He knelt down and reached out a finger to touch her.

Unlike Jake, he didn't warm her up or even warn her body of his approach; he simply plunged one large finger into her needy pussy. She groaned and rocked forward onto him. Her eyes snapped open and locked in on his. There it was, that gorgeously arrogant smile. His knowing expression only sought to drive her need even higher. In her best seductive voice, she whispered, "

Ride me, cowboy."

Lindsay woke with a start, gasping for air. She was alone in the barn, no sign of him anywhere. Her breathing was labored, her head was throbbing, and much to her chagrin she felt a hint of disappointment. It was just a dream. Before she could even begin to hate herself for her dark fantasies, she noticed a pitcher of water in the straw next to her cot. Her throat burned at the sight of it. She rolled onto the floor and shakily began to pour herself a glass which she dropped almost instantly.

Fuck it!

She lifted the pitcher to her lips and began to throw back gulp after swig. It felt so cool and soothing that she wanted to cry.

After downing half of the pitcher's contents, she began to feel sick. She set it down between her legs and tried to focus on deep breathing. It was no use. A few moments later her stomach turned on her, emptying its contents onto the barn floor. Thankfully she hadn't eaten anything since...

a few chips at Churros, maybe?

... so it was only water. When she recovered from her bout of illness, she started in again on the pitcher, this time being careful to take small sips and wait in between. She was able to keep down the second half and was absolutely amazed with how much better she felt. Her hands were steady, her mind was clear, and in her current situation that was all she could really hope for.

She sat back on her heels and felt something poke her between her legs. Looking down she was horrified to find that her panties had been sliced open down the center. She was staring down at her naked self.

That son of a bitch... he raped me!

But that was wrong, she would know if she'd had sex, wouldn't she?

Maybe not.

She reached down between her thighs and felt slick moisture there, but when she lifted her fingers to her nose, she didn't smell of sex, only of her own scent. She reasoned that it was probably from her dream.

The one we're not going to talk about, deal? Deal.

The panties, however, were a different issue. The slice was a clean cut and probably came from the same knife that removed her bra, of that she was relatively certain. Lindsay searched herself and was surprised to find that she didn't feel as violated by this action as she felt she should. The man was sick, but he obviously had some twisted level of restraint. Maybe...

Let's not go there, Linds.

Distracting herself, Lindsay stood and walked over to the gate. The interior of the barn was beginning to turn a pinkish color and if she could count on the cowboy for consistency, she knew that he would be down soon. She looked across the way and her barn-mate appeared to have the same idea. The mare, too, had come forward and was hanging her head out of the stall staring straight at the door through which he would enter.

Lindsay had always loved horses but her father had never been much on travelling outside of the city. She'd read every book in the library on them and made a point of watching any movie with a horse on the cover, but she'd never been this close to one before. The mare's big brown eyes and long dark lashes were hypnotizing. Lindsay could see so much intelligence and spirit behind them and it only heightened her desire to be closer. She clicked her tongue at the beautiful mare and cooed, "Hey, girl."

The horse ignored her, clearly not interested in any distractions so close to breakfast. As if on cue, the door swung open and the cowboy entered. Less afraid now that she was pretty certain his intentions weren't to rape or kill her, Lindsay stayed by the gate. As he drew closer to the mare's feed, she was able to appreciate his attire. It was surprisingly clean and crisp. He wore a pair of dark wash blue jeans, a brown belt with a large silver buckle, and a grey plaid long-sleeve button up shirt. Atop his head was the iconic white hat, a Stetson by the look of it. The only signs of work on the man were his dusty and worn leather boots. He stroked the mare's nose in greeting, whispering in his molten-chocolate voice to her, before breaking off her hay and tossing it to the back of the stall.

He turned in Lindsay's direction and she debated a few snarky comments before deciding to wait for his move. She expected him to crank her rope tight as he had yesterday, so she was surprised when he grabbed a line of rope off of the floor instead. He began to wind it up and created a lasso. When he had finished, he looked up at her, half-smirk shining in the morning light. He advanced toward her and for every forward step he took, she took one back. He undid the padlock and opened the gate, entering with confidence and never taking his eyes off of her.

They faced off; she stood in the center of the stall and he stayed by the gate. He left it open behind him and Lindsay began to calculate her odds of getting past. He was so tall and his arms long and strong. She knew that she wouldn't be able to sprint around him but she may be able to incapacitate him again and try her luck that way. She was practically naked and wouldn't make it far on foot, but there had to be a phone nearby and if not that then perhaps a vehicle.

It only took her a second to roll through her options in her head and it all seemed too circumstantial. He dropped the arm holding the rope and began to spin the lasso in a lazy circle by his side. Instinct told her that he was going for her neck. She ducked her chin a bit, never breaking eye contact and began to back away more quickly this time. The last thing she wanted was for him to have a means of choking her from a distance. As she reversed, he advanced along the wall.

Corner, Lindsay, you're about to be cornered.

With that realization, her options were whittled down to one.

Run.

She kicked a chunk of straw up at him and bolted for the gate. He made no move to stop her; perhaps she had caught him off guard.

I can't believe this is actually wor-

She reached the end of her rope and the harness threw her back into the stall. She landed on her back near the far wall of the cage and her head whipped backward onto the floor. Despite the generous layer of straw, her vision became blurry and her ears began to ring. It was then that she saw the lasso loose from the cowboy's hand, but rather than circle her neck, it came in around her legs and tightened on her knees.

Crap.

He pulled back on the line to ensure that it was secure before moving in on her.

He placed his hand on the back of her neck and lifted her into a sitting position. Through the stars, she was able to make out his fading eyes and read a level of concern there that she thought odd. She tried to wiggle away but it was of little use. With the harness, the wrist bindings and now her locked knees, she was at his mercy. He reached behind her and undid the rope responsible for yesterday's suspension from the harness. She felt his arms slide underneath her legs, cradle her, and lift her into the air as though she weighed no more than the straw on which she had lain.

This close to him she could smell the mint of his breath and the tan of his skin. As he held her, she could feel the defined tone of his muscular abdomen and barrel chest. He was intoxicating until she remembered who he was and where she was. She did the only thing left to her defense. She turned her head and sunk her teeth into his shoulder.

"HEY!" he shouted, dropping her back down to the ground. She was prepared for the impact and tucked her chin to protect her head. Landing flat on her back knocked the wind out of her and she let out a soft grunt as the air was expelled violently from her lungs.

While she fought to draw in a new breath, she observed a satisfying ring of red sprinkled on his shirt where her teeth and torn it. He looked crossly down at her, like a father would a disobedient child, but said nothing. He turned and left the stall, exiting her field of view. She struggled into a sitting position and wiggled until her back was against the wall. The gate sat open before her, taunting her incapacity. Her breathing was labored from the dual falls and from the effort of righting herself.

A few minutes later she heard him returning and she steeled herself for the whip again. But when he came into view, it was not in sight. Instead, he held a metal horse's bit that wasn't attached to a bridle. The center of the mouthpiece was wrapped in the same blue bandage he had used on the mare's tail and looped through each silver ring was a short leather strap, creating a perfect circle.

"You cannot be serious. You are not putting that thing in my mouth," she told him matter-of-factly as he knelt down beside her. As soon as the words had passed her lips, the back of his hand whipped down to spank her bare hip. She yelped in surprise and glared at him. "What the hell-" Again he spanked her, but with a little more emphasis on the snap.

He grabbed her chin roughly, turning her until their eyes met. The hardness she saw there was vaguely familiar and he spoke in a firm, commanding tone. "You would do well to not speak out of turn."

Lindsay tried to jerk out of his grasp, but it was too strong. He began to slide his long fingers from her chin up her jawline until they came to rest on the joint at the back of her cheeks. He moved the bit up to rest against her lips and pushed down on the joint. The pressure was resistible at first but he gradually applied more of it and the muscles of her face started to tire. She felt her teeth part a little and once the seal was broken, the floodgates seemed to pour open. Mere seconds after the pressure had started, she felt the stretchy fabric sliding across her tongue.

He reached around behind her and tightened the strap, testing its fit. When he seemed satisfied, he drew back to watch her. She chomped down on the bit trying to close her mouth, but the wrap was too thick for her to do much of anything. "Eeoo fuuh uhh a biiiih!" She tried to curse at him, but the son-of-a-bitch didn't get it.

His expression looked pained for a moment like he was trying to hold something back and then he burst out laughing. Her face flushed, burning hot with embarrassment and she could feel tears coming forward, threatening to underline her weakness. His laughing stopped and he reached out to grab her chin again. She tried not to look at him for fear of what he might see in her. When she felt she had the tears under control she chanced a glance upward and met a surprising softness. In his sickeningly sweet tone he said, "I know this must be hard, but I promise it can come out as soon as you learn some manners."

Lindsay didn't know what to make of his words, but she nodded her acknowledgement impulsively. Before she had the opportunity to figure out what the hell that was about, he cradled her once more and carried her out of the stall. He walked her a short distance up the barn aisle and set her on her feet. It took her a moment to plant herself, but he held her shoulders while she did so.

He took her wrists in his hands and began to fiddle with the ropes. As he worked, he reassumed the commanding voice, "The bindings are going to prevent you from running, so I would suggest that you remain still and allow me to bathe you."

"Baaee meh?"

He raised one dark eyebrow and shot her a quick side glance. "Yes, 'bathe you'. You're a mess."

He had her hands undone now to where only a single length of rope circled each wrist. He took one of her arms out to her side and attached it to the same cross tie that he had used while grooming the mare the day before. He repeated the action on the other side and Lindsay began to panic. He pulled out a second pair of ropes and attached them to either ankle.

The cowboy's next bit of business was to loosen the lasso from around her knees. As soon as they were free she drove one of her legs up into his face, but he dodged it with ease. He caught it in his hand and stepped off to the side, attaching it to one of the stall posts. She thought she heard him mutter "

they always kick you"

as he did so. He performed the same task on the other leg and then stood back to admire her stance. She was strapped spread eagle with her legs split to a near uncomfortable width and her hands suspended from the ties above.

Seeming pleased, he turned and exited the barn, leaving her once more to her uncomfortable solitude. The muscles in her jaw were tiring of fighting the bit's width so she let them fall slack. There was no way to release her arms or legs from their strain, however. She had little choice but to wait it out. Through the crack in the now partly open door Lindsay could see that the barn sat at the bottom of the hill. There seemed to be no other structure, but she reasoned that somewhere near the top must be the cowboy's home. She couldn't hear any signs of traffic, only the faint sound of a dog barking in the distance.

Ages later, the cowboy returned with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge. He placed them near her immobilized feet and pulled a blade out of the back pocket of his jeans. He stole a glance up at her face, almost apologetically before slicing away the remainder of her underwear. His eyes widened as he took in her nakedness for presumably the first time. Again, he seemed pleased. He bent down, wet the sponge, and circled around to her backside to start at the base of her neck. He squeezed the sponge causing the soap to run down the length of her spine before beginning a circular scrubbing motion.

The sponge was soft and plush, not unpleasant in the least, and the water was wonderfully warm. Though his hands were rough and callused, his work was gentle. Under any other circumstances it would have felt like a loving caress. He paid careful attention to every inch of her exposed skin and despite the innate soothing it should have provided, Lindsay began to panic. She had done well thus far to control her emotions and focus on finding this man's weakness, namely her way out.

Something more primal was taking over her mind and body that was entirely uncontrollable. She could no longer see him, it was only his touch that told her where he was and what he was doing. Each time he bent down to rinse and reload the sponge, she could feel the brim of his hat brush her outer thigh or his hot breath on her leg. To make matters worse, the combination of their proximity, the danger of her predicament, and the soft touch of the sponge was causing the heat to flood once more between her legs.

He was working at her lower back when she felt the scrubbing stop. He paused but did not bend to refill the sponge. She twisted her neck, trying to see what the cowboy was doing behind her, but it was to no avail. She felt a touch then that was not the sponge, but the tip of one rough finger. He ran his thumb over the dimples in her back and she squirmed. They had always been so sensitive and she felt her core contract with the sudden rush of involuntary lust.

"Mmmm, these are cute," he said and she could hear the appreciative smile in his tone. He didn't linger long on them, much to her gratitude, and set back to work on her bath. He circled the round globes of her ass, varying the pressure of his touch and clearly enjoying this section.

Once he had finished with her backside, he ducked underneath her arm and came around to face her. He dropped the sponge into the bucket and lathered his hands instead. He stood and she did her best to kill him with her look, though she wasn't sure if she was angrier with the indignity of his idea of a "bath" or with herself for how much her body was responding to it. He brought his hands to her face and washed them over her forehead, around her eyes, and up behind her ears in one smooth motion. Then, he placed the palms of his hands on her cheeks and his thumbs on either side of her nose. She could smell now that the water had a floral scent to it...

lavender or rose, maybe?

He pulled his thumbs downward and over her lips, slowing a bit and appearing to savor it.

He bent and retrieved the sponge and Lindsay willed her body to hide its betrayal of her. True that the cowboy had surprised her with his restraint thus far, but she didn't want him to believe that she was gleaning any pleasure out of his actions. He worked patiently and mercilessly down her front, using the same circular pattern over her breasts as he had her ass. This time she could see the hungry look in his eyes as he watched her puffy pink nipples tease to attention at his touch. His expression remained stoic and he moved on quickly after their transformation. Even though his time on her bust had been relatively short-lived, it still sent a flutter through her stomach, a flush to her cheeks, and a throb to her...

He reached her hips and dropped to one knee. He was staring into her nether region now and Lindsay looked to the ceiling of the dusty barn, praying that he wouldn't find what she knew to be there. One more soaking of the sponge and then she could feel it pressing into her slit. He started at the front, separating her outer lips and taking extra care to clean every delicate fold. The intensity of his gaze and the care of his touch was maddening. Shots of electricity were firing and her sensitive nub began to ache with primal desire. His hands never left the sponge and when he finally moved down to her inner thighs, Lindsay had to stop herself from groaning her frustration.

This is the monster who kidnapped you, you freaking idiot! He locked you in a barn, tied you up, took off all of your clothes, whipped you, and has been touching you without your consent for the last forty-eight hours. Are you seriously considering actually WANTING him to touch you?!

Her head was screaming sense, logic, and reason to her, but her pussy was telling a different story. It was reminding her how much she enjoyed being desired and being touched. It was telling her how attractive this man was with his tanned skin, sexy stubble, and sinewy muscles. It was imagining how well his apparent mix of soft and hard might play out in a physical encou-

STOP! That's it, you're freaking insane. You've completely lost-