Cowgirl - Sex Stories

Cowgirl

... his slim frame were wiry muscles and skillful roping that astonished even veteran cowboys. This was Elliot's sixth year with the Slanted H. The man didn't hesitate or draw out the punishment. He struck quickly, without preamble, laying down the strokes so rapidly and efficiently the girl was still gasping from the first when he delivered the sixth. "Woah!" cried Beth Ann, wiggling her backside. Her buttocks were blotched with a vivid red. "That man knows how to strop!" she called out as Elliot nodded to the crowd of cheering men. "I had to raise my b*****rs and s****rs after Pa passed on," Elliot said gruffly. The men laughed and teased him as he made his way back into the crowd. "I can do better than that," growled a dull voice, and the men grew quiet. It was Ringo, the man who'd given up his shirt. He wasn't happy about it, wrapping the strop around his hand with greedy relish. He stood in the cool night, his tough skin stretching across his muscular back and arms. The men stepped aside as he passed. It was his tenth year on the ranch. Ringo's style was the opposite of Elliot's. He drew out the punishment, delivering a cracking blow to the poor girl's quivering haunches and waiting ten, twenty, perhaps forty seconds before continuing. The effect on the girl was remarkable. In the interlude between strokes she huffed and puffed, moaned, writhed, and waggled her tail bawdily. On the fourth stroke her moans reached a feverish intensity and when the fifth landed she cried out ...

... loudly and her body slumped on the wheel. The woman gave a huge sigh of gratitude and contentment. "Thanks, Ringo," she whispered, her voice faint. "Plenty more where that came from," growled the big man. "I know." Ringo's tiny brain was attempting to understand the girl's confusing reaction -- it didn't ring right in his head that a girl would thank him for whipping her bare ass. Therefore he figured she must be mocking him. He gripped the strop tighter and put all of his furious black heart into it, using every trick his thirty-eight years of whipping and being whipped had taught him. When Ringo threw down the strop in triumph, a maze of purple blisters across her hindquarters, the girl turned and looked over her shoulder. "Oh, are you done?" Her voice bore a distinct tone of disappointment! The men laughed and Ringo smacked his fist into his palm in undisguised rage. He stomped off into the night. The next few men were Thom Shayle, Benny Dobson, and Bear Smith, the half-breed Indian who had earned the men's respect and admiration through sheer determination and hard work. Each of them had been with Stanley for twelve years. There was a brief breather after that blistering series, as the men needed to pause for drinks and to relieve themselves. Whipping was thirsty work. Kenny eyed Betsy nervously. Her rump was approaching the color and texture of ground beef. He had Danny fetch her a dipper of fresh water, which she drank gratefully, giving him a shy smile that sent thrills ...