Cowgirl - Sex Stories

Cowgirl

... through his young body. The goosebumps on his legs were not from the cold. Kenny was studying Betsy's buttocks as she drank, and when she finished he gave Danny more instructions. The boy quickly fetched a bucket of water. Dipping a cloth in the water, he lovingly washed the girl's bottom and thighs, trying not to stare at the bulging slit between her legs. It peeped at him through curls of pale, golden hair. Danny noticed it glistened with moisture though he'd been careful to keep his cloth away from that area. Washed and cleaned during the break, Betsy was revitalized for the remainder of the whipping. She was more conscious of the strokes, and the puffy welts that early seemed so ready to burst had softened with the absorption of water. The first to whip after the break was old man Bayton. He'd been a cow-hand for over forty years, since he was but a lad. The last f******n had been on one of Stanley's ranches. He was old but hard and stubborn as iron. He didn't like the idea of a woman as a cow-hand. Went against the laws of nature. This little hussy sure needed a lesson, he thought. So he gave her f******n of 'em. Next was Spice, the cook. Small and wirey, he never felt he got the respect of the men for his difficult labor. This was his chance to excel at something physical. His fifteen strokes were brutally hard and fast and cruel. After Spice went Leroy, a shrimp of a man, dried up like a wrinkled prune, but hard as petrified wood. His sixteen strokes were all across ...

... the backs of her thighs where the skin was fresh and tender. Betsy seemed to appreciate that, moaning and crying out with little gasps of what, to the untrained ears of the men, sounded like pleasure, but obviously wasn't. The crowd that had been cheering Leroy went silent with respect as the next man took the strop, and everyone was rewarded with a look of consternation on the girl's face as she looked over her shoulder. Big Joe was thundering forward, a mean look on his face. Betsy didn't know this was Big Joe's natural expression and the only one he knew. She thought he was angry and the sight of those bulging arms as thick as the thighs of most men, made her quiver. "I've been here eighteen years, girl," he said slowly, enjoying Betsy's wince. "You are going to feel this." The whipping was extreme. Twice Kenny thought about stopping it, but no welcoming whipping had ever been stopped before. He f***ed himself to remember she was a man, a caw-hand like any other. This was an impossible challenge, with her naked, writhing, and whimpering with those gorgeous high-pitched cries of hers, but Kenny steeled himself. After all, he was next. "Damn that _hurt_!" roared Betsy, stomping her feet in an effort to jog off the pain. A heaving and puffing Big Joe let the feverish strop tumble from his thick fingers. Betsy wheeled on Big Joe before anyone could warn him. Her arms shot up around his bull-neck and pulled his head down and to the shock of everyone, especially poor Big Joe, ...