Cowgirl - Sex Stories

Cowgirl

... for a moment, and then turned back to the wheel, spreading her legs and gripping the top. "Danny's been here two years," called out Kenny. "That's two strokes." Danny nodded grimly, gripping the lash as tightly as he could in his sweat-soaked palm. He stood behind and beside the girl, eyeing his target carefully. He could smell the woman, sweat glistening on her back, and see the dreadful weals cutting across the soft cheeks of her ass. Up close the skin was impossibly smooth and feminine, crying out for him reach out a hand to caress the blistered flesh. He swallowed, his throat like sand. Two years earlier it had been him in her place, naked and tied to the wagon wheel, his bare ass prickly with stings as the breeze blew across it, taunting him with the agony of waiting for the punishment to continue. He remembered how he had felt, how frightened he'd been, how elated at surviving. He'd been whipped many times since then, but nothing matched that first time. He'd thought he could take it easily -- he'd taken his father's strap enough as a k** -- but this was nothing like those c***dish spankings. This was a man's whipping: long, brutal, and public. But this wasn't a man before him now. This was a woman. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his nineteen years. Her body was supple and graceful, and she spoke with fire and ice, arrogant words he'd never heard from a woman, and yet here she was, naked and accepting the whip. "Come on, Danny boy, we haven't all day!" ...

... shouted Kenny. Danny nodded and drew back the strop. He must make this good. If his strokes weren't full f***e, he'd be receiving the crop from the foreman. With all the strength in his right arm he brought the thick leather strop across the bare cheeks before him. The slap sounded pale and mild compared to the dull thwock of the crop, and the girl didn't move, but a pink rectangle blossomed across her skin. Danny brought the strop down again, this time even harder. His aim went off a bit, and he caught the back of her right thigh. The girl wiggled her right leg suddenly, and Danny realized he'd caught her by surprise. He walked back to the men with a slight swagger. The woman had felt his strokes, all right. He might be just a k**, but he was fast becoming a man. The next was Mulligan, a hefty Irishman who'd been with the ranch for four years. People could disagree with how Stanley Herdass ran the Slanted H, but few could argue with the results. Stanley had the most loyal workf***e in the state, and in a business where a cowhand's six-month stay was considered impressive, Stanley's men worked for years. Unfortunately this did not bode well for poor Beth Ann, for Mulligan was considered a newcomer at the Slanted H. His four strokes were harder and broader than Danny's, catching the fullness of her backside, and leaving her striped from side to side. Elliot was next. Originally from Texas, he was a tall thin man who wore spectacles, and woe be the man who thought him weak. Under ...