Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby horseygirl123 » Mon Mar 23, 2015 3:30 pm

Saturday morning dawned, and it was uncannily warm for what was only the last weekend in March. I drew back the curtains, no sunshine, yet the air was sticky and hot. A storm was coming.
I’d planned to spend that Saturday the same way I spent most others, at the local stables with my friends. It was where I kept my horse, Star, and where we always liked to hang out when we weren’t at school. I quickly pulled on some clothes, tight cream jodhpurs and a purple vest top. Subconsciously I was dressing to impress - and it was for the benefit of one person in particular. Sean.
I contemplated driving to the stables, but decided instead to run. I was a good runner, and was confident I could make the four mile distance in about half an hour without breaking a sweat, even in this heat. I set off, my feet thudding rhythmically against the pavement, my long, thick red hair pulled up into a bun. I cut across the fields, jumping the fences until I eventually arrived at the stables, in twenty nine minutes, no less.

The day was enjoyable. Sean and I even managed to sneak off for a ride without my friends tagging along. He was the new stable hand, a year or so older than me. He and I had been drawn to each other when he’d first arrived, his blue eyes catching mine as we’d been introduced – and it was the start of, well… whatever this now was. He’d spoken as we’d ridden along, but I hadn’t heard the words, just the soft, gentle sound of his voice. His baggy jeans were faded and ripped at the knees, held low on his hips by a leather belt. The sleeves of his white t-shirt were short enough to reveal firm, toned biceps, the left ringed with a simple black tattooed band. Leather bracelets were fastened loosely around his wrists, and around his neck a necklace made up of little wooden beads hung. They looked amazing on him.
We shared a kiss, just as we were about to return to the yard. His lips were soft, his breath tasting faintly of mint, his clothes smelling of hay. He’d smiled and ridden away, leaving me smiling too, as he got back to work.

I didn’t see him again till early that evening. My friends had left, but I’d hung around, hoping he would finish work early. The storm I’d predicted hit, rain hammering against the tin roof, and sure enough he arrived at the door.
I did a double take. Rain had plastered his long dark hair back from his face, exposing those piercing blue eyes. His t-shirt was transparent against his torso, toned and strong without being too bulky and over-muscled. Perfect.
I helped him bring in the horses from the fields, drying them in their stables. I was soaked through, but an excited warmth bubbled through me, and my only shivers were from anticipation, not cold. Something was going to happen, tonight. I could feel it.
The power eventually cut, the lights flickering on and off. I was with Star, reassuring her, when his torch lit up the stable.
“Can you help me check the other horses?” he asked.
I nodded, leaving Star and jogging up the aisle, using the light of my phone to check the other stables, making sure the ponies inside them were ok. I reached the final one, meeting Sean outside.
“Alright?” he asked. He was so close I could feel his warm breath against my face, and I wondered fleetingly if he was going to kiss me again. I hoped he would, my heart pounding in my chest. “Have you checked this stable?” he indicated the one behind us.
I frowned, “There’s no horse in there. It’s just a hay store.”
He kept his expression neutral, but I detected a glint in his eye as lightning forked outside of the barn, briefly lighting the aisle. “I think you should check it anyway,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows, I liked how his voice had sounded. Authoritative, controlling. Hot. I opened the stable door, hands fumbling with the latch, and stepped inside. The strong scent of fresh hay hit me, as the flashing lights completely cut out. I felt him follow me, heard over the thunder the sound of the door clicking shut. His hands were against my bare shoulders, pushing me against the hay bales. He braced his strong arms either side of my head, pressing me back, locking me in the space - his space. I had no intention of leaving.
His lips were hot as he kissed me again, the experience completely different to the first. This was frantic yet controlled, powerful. He demanded my submission and I had no choice but to kiss him back, desperate for his touch, for him.
I moved to coil my arms around his neck, pull him even closer, but he pushed them aside. To my dismay he drew back, turning away.
“Sean?” I tilted my head, confused. His taste still burnt on my lips.
“Don’t speak.” He turned back, lightning flashing again behind him, framing his silhouette. He caught both my wrists in one hand, and I flinched as the other started winding rope around my arms.
“What are you doing?” I spluttered in surprise. Even just the touch of his fingers against my skin was sending electric shocks through my muscles, tensed and ready to give themselves to him, whatever he said, whatever he wanted.
“I said, don’t speak!” he pushed me back against the hay again, eyes gleaming, tying the rope off with a knot. He jumped onto the bales, the other end of the rope still in his hand. It felt… foreign. But the tingling in my arms never faded, and I didn’t want it to. I twisted my hands, pressed together before me, trapped.
He tightened the rope, winding it around one of the thick beams that ran along the roof, and I felt my arms being drawn above my head. I stretched, almost on tiptoes as he tied it off into a thick knot. I felt him jump back down to the ground, surveying his handiwork. His fingers reached for the seam of my vest, tearing the thin wet fabric easily until he tugged it off in two pieces. I stood in just my jodhpurs and bra, body stretched up, back arched and shoulders pulled back so my breasts were pushed forwards.
I felt vulnerable, and it was the most beautiful feeling in the world. I was lucky, my body had always been a toned, curvy hourglass shape, the result of running miles and miles on a daily basis. His hands stroked the muscles of my abdomen and I squirmed, loved that I was powerless to stop him. His fingers slid upwards, beneath the fabric of my bra, cupping my breasts. My nipples stood on end, pointed as his fingers glided softly over them. He pressed his face to my chest, ripping off my bra with one strong hand and finding my nipples with his tongue.
They tingled, as he kissed and licked and sucked. Everywhere tingled, the tips of my fingers, my wrists restrained expertly above me. They were desperate to reach out, touch him, pull that t-shirt off him and fully admire the soft, perfectly sculpted planes of his chest, the hard tense muscles of his stomach.
I moaned, body sagging against the bales as his mouth moved to my neck, fingers still massaging my breasts, always on that perfect line drawn between pleasure and pain. That line was becoming increasingly blurred. He pressed himself against me, both of us wet with rain and sweat, letting our bodies glide against each other effortlessly. Every nerve stood on end, paralysed by him.
He undid the zip of my jodhpurs, rolling the waistband down. His fingers slid slowly from my breasts, so slowly I couldn’t help but moan impatiently, body tingling desperately.
He stopped, “How dare you rush me?” His eyes blazed, cold and expressionless.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“And now you’re speaking,” he unbuckled his belt, “I warned you not to speak.” My eyes widened, as he pulled it off. Wordlessly, he spun me around, my face pressed against the hay. I clenched my jaw, waiting for the hit.

It came. An overwhelming explosion of pleasure and pain. I cried out, my whole body limp against the hay, hanging from my arms. It came again, and again, and I cried, the sound ringing in my ears, over the sound of the storm outside.
“You’re enjoying that too much,” he spun me back around, so our faces were just inches apart. The lights came back on, suddenly leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed to him. Powerless. And so very, wonderfully desperate. He’d trapped me, but untying me wouldn’t free, in fact that would do the opposite. Only one thing would free me, and from the angry look in his eyes I wasn’t about to get it.
He picked up my discarded vest and ripped it into pieces, stuffing it in my mouth. I didn’t spit it out, standing obediently with the fabric hanging from my lips. He turned away, bending and retrieving a dusty roll of duct tape from the corner of the stable. I heard a ripping sound, and he pressed it over the lower part of my face. Three layers for good measure. I tried to say his name, tried to plead but nothing but a muffled mumble escaped my mouth, completely drowned out by the rain. My saliva soaked the fabric lodged between my teeth and I bit down on it, desperately trying to stop the overpowering electricity coursing through my body.
“I’ve still got work to do,” Sean told me, kissing each of my breasts, then the tip of my nose softly. “Think about your behaviour whilst I’m gone.”
I moaned against the gag, pulling forwards against my bonds. Where are you going? How long will you be? What if someone finds me? The gag meant I couldn’t ask the questions I was desperate to know the answers to, and it was just as well, the belt still laid on the floor. He followed my eyes and noticed it, stooping and picking it up.

I tensed, and he laughed, at the fear and anticipation in my eyes. He looped his belt around my ankles and tightened it, forcing my legs together. “Be good,” he told me, leaving the stable and bolting the door behind him. I tried one final muffled protest, but if he heard he didn’t flinch, not turning as he walked to the door. The stable fell into darkness again, this time from his finger against the light switch, and he left the barn.
Last edited by horseygirl123 on Sat May 09, 2015 1:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby Kelly » Fri May 01, 2015 12:15 am

That is an intense day at the stables. Fun story!

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby Mr Underheel » Sat May 02, 2015 10:30 am

This is some great writing! It drew me in and captured my attention!

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby Tieup1 » Sun May 03, 2015 4:12 am

A very good start :)

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby horseygirl123 » Sat May 09, 2015 1:27 pm

Thank you for the lovely comments! Here is part two more to come :)

---

The wait was agonising. Not because my arms were beginning to ache, or my jaw, or my ankles. I barely noticed that, too preoccupied with other thoughts, spinning around in my head. Thoughts of where he was, what he was doing. What if he forgot me? It seemed irrational, but the truth was I was scared someone would find me. My friends, or someone else at the yard, who’d just popped back to feed their horse. That fear was part of what was causing my stomach to flutter excitedly.

I wriggled, telling myself it was to try and free myself. Deep down, a part of me didn’t want freedom at all. I liked the way the ropes held me back, held me at his mercy. I liked the fact he wanted me at his mercy - he felt I was worth playing with, worth displaying. I rubbed my wrists together, the fibres of the rope pressing into my skin, stinging with both pain and anticipation at the same time. I didn’t feel cold, stood half naked as the rain continued to batter the barn outside. Around me the horses were snorting as the thunder clapped overhead, on edge and excited. Just as I was.

A flashlight appeared at the end of the barn. I held my breath, heart hammering. If this wasn’t Sean, what would I do? What would I say? I was pretty powerless to do or say anything. And if it was Sean? What was he going to do, what had he got planned? The light made its way down the aisle, checking each of the stables in turn. It took forever, until eventually the beam cast itself over me. I tensed, unable to see the person behind it. The bolt on the door scraped back, and eventually a voice spoke. I didn’t know whether I should be terrified or relieved, as my eyes adjusted to the light, and Sean stood before me.

“Did you wait patiently?” he asked, throwing the light aside.

I nodded.

“Good,” he stepped forward, running his fingers across my cheek. My skin tingled with such electricity I was almost surprised there was no visible spark. He toyed with one of the strands of tape across my mouth, teasing me, eventually smoothing it back in place. “Not quite yet,” he whispered, fingers running across my breasts. I arched myself towards him, and he laughed. “Someone’s keen.”

I moaned, pleading with my eyes. The sight of his body through his t-shirt was impossible to resist. My fingers quivered as I imagined touching him, running my hands down him, across skin as soft as supple leather.

He leant back, a smile on his face as I started struggling against the ropes. “Fight them baby,” he murmured in my ear, “Escape them.”
I grunted, twisting my hands, the rope chaffing my skin beautifully. I was wet from reasons other than rain water now. Sean jumped onto the bales, and I looked up as he untangled the rope from the roof beam. I felt it slacken, and I lowered my arms in front of me, my shoulders stiff. Silently he stooped, unbuckling the belt from around my ankles and strapping it around my chest, pinning my upper arms to my sides. Silently he collected the torch, then led me from the barn.

The rain hit me like a wall, forcing me back into reality. What was I doing? Sean was a stranger, after all. Was it ridiculous that this mysterious guy I’d known less than a week had bound me, rendered my powerless, beaten me – yet I trusted him? I hadn’t time to consider it as we approached his car, a rundown pickup truck covered in rust. He pushed me into the back seat, clipping my seat belt on. He undid his belt from around my arms and pulled my hands forwards, hooking them around the head rest of the passenger seat in front. He bound them there expertly, wrapping duct tape around my fingers to prevent me from trying to untie the knot. Around my eyes he wrapped an old scarf, and he pulled it tight as I tried to shrug it off. “Behave,” he scolded me, slamming the truck door shut. I heard him climb into the driver’s seat, and the engine fired into life.

The journey was… terrifying? Exhilarating? Why was it so difficult to tell the difference anymore? I struggled, knowing he loved it. “You’re distracting me,” he growled, “Could you at least try and look less sexy whilst you struggle?”

My heart jumped – he thought I was sexy? A guy like him, the definition of sexy, was saying exactly the same to me? A warmth flooded through me, and I struggled harder, twisting and tugging against the seat in front of me, pulling against my seat belt.

Eventually he cut the engine, and I heard his door open. He pulled me out from the seat, leaving the blindfold on as I stumbled forward, back out into the rain. He picked me up, as if I weighed nothing to him, and carried me through a doorway into the dry.

Was this where he lived? I knew he lived alone, but I couldn’t remember where. He opened another door, then eventually put me down. I felt a mattress beneath me, and the smell of him suddenly overwhelmed me. This was his bed. I was surrounded by his clothes, his sheets, the scent of his aftershave hanging in the air.

The blindfold came off, and I surveyed the room. It was tidier than I would imagine for a boy living on his own, bed made, laundry piled tidily in a bin in the corner. There were no posters on the wall, no pictures on his empty desk.

He smiled at me as I moved my shoulders, rubbing them against my mouth in an attempt to loosen the tape. My jaw was starting to ache, and I was thirsty too. He watched me do it and swatted my hands away, but tugged a penknife out of his pocket and sliced the rope cleanly from my wrists.

I was so surprised I froze, giving him time to grab my wrist and clip a metal handcuff in place. The cold metal made me flinch, and I pulled away. “We’re playing it that way are we?” he grinned. I met his eyes, trying to look determined. He laughed, reaching for my other arm. I tugged back, and he straddled me, pushing me back against the mattress.

“Mmph!” I protested. If I pulled my cuffed arm out of his reach he’d attach the other end of the chain to the bedpost. If I pulled it towards me, he’d clip it to my other wrist. I struggled against him, rolling over, crying out against the gag.

It didn’t take long for him to overpower me. One wrist was clipped to the bedpost, the other opposite. I managed to struggle into a sitting position, flexing my arms feebly against the chains. He tugged the tape off of my fingers and my mouth, and I winced as it ripped at my skin. I spat out the cloth.

“Ok?” he asked me softly.

“This is kidnapping!” I protested.

“You’re pretty willing for a supposed kidnap victim,” he commented, pulling his t-shirt off.

Damn. Any train of thought I had completely disappeared, and I stared at the rippling muscles of his chest, the smooth, shining ridges across his stomach. My hands twitched, and he noticed.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” I couldn’t read his expression – was he angry about it? Pleased?

“No,” I protested stubbornly. He disappeared to the sink in the corner of the room and returned with a glass of water and a straw. I sipped it slowly, glaring at him.

His fingers reached for the button of my jodhpurs, still undone. He gripped the waist band, tugging them down until he slid them off my ankles with my boots. Only a thin pair of navy lacy panties concealed my modesty. His hand slid up my thigh, beneath the material. He stroked the lace, and I knew it was damp. “I think you’re enjoying it,” he murmured.

I squirmed, “Let me go!”

He stood up, his gorgeous, frustrating grin growing wider and wider. “What’s this?!”

“Let me go!” I shook my arms against the bedposts.

He reached beneath the bed and straddled me again, pressing something into my mouth. A round, plastic ball, pulling my jaw open. A leather strap tightened around my head, buckled in place. I rubbed it against my shoulder but it didn’t budge.

“Mmph!” I protested – it muffled my voice even more than the tape. “Mmph!” There was something so inexplicably liberating about shouting at the top of my voice, and nobody being able to hear me. “Mmph!”

He pulled my legs down, and I kicked and screamed, as he fastened them to the footboard with rope. I was stretched out on the bed, barely able to move.

He wasn’t finished. A leather collar was buckled around my neck, a strap clipping it to the headboard. My head was almost completely immobilised. The scarf was wrapped back around my eyes, plunging the room back into darkness.

The feeling was undefinable. Every sense was heightened, the taste of the plastic in my mouth, even the memory of the taste of his mouth, still lingering even now. The feeling of the cloth against my eyes, the cold metal against my wrists, the rope against my ankles. Most of all, the feeling of his fingers against my skin, soft yet firm, binding ropes around my knees and my thighs. He pulled a rope between my legs, winding it up and around my waist. I squealed as he pulled it tight, and he laughed.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. “You’ve got five minutes to free yourself,” he told me. “I’ll award points for effort.” I felt the mattress move as he stood up and moved away, leaving me alone.

I gave it a good attempt. I thrust my body against the ropes, the one across my crotch tightening as I arched my back, bucking against the bed. The chains rattled against the bed posts, refusing to budge, the ropes pinched my ankles and my knees which made me only crave the pain more. I moaned into the gag as the crotch rope rubbed against me, and the warmth was flooding back through me, coursing through my body.

Struggling against solid metal chains is pointless – I knew that. It didn’t stop me, it was the same as before, I had no intention of escaping. The crotch rope became damper and damper. Every muscle was tensed, the moaning louder, as I pounded my body against the bed, my desperation not for freedom but for a whole different kind of release.

“Five minutes is up,” his voice was back in my ear and I froze. I felt him climb onto the bed, heard springs creak, felt him slide his body over mine. He was naked. I wanted to see, I couldn’t. I couldn’t even tell him I wanted to see, couldn’t even beg or plead. Damn, he was cruel. He pressed himself against me, and I groaned, balling my hands into fists.

“Oh baby,” he whispered, gently rubbing his nose on mine. His breath was so warm, so soft. His hands were at my waist, fingering the crotch rope. He didn’t loosen it, instead toying with it, pulling it even tighter then releasing it expertly, until the heat building up inside me threaten to bubble over. I felt like I was ready to explode, as his fingers slid down the rope, eventually taking its place.

The explosion came.

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby Mr Underheel » Sat May 09, 2015 8:46 pm

Yup. Yup. Yup. Incredible stuff! I love it!

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby horseygirl123 » Wed May 27, 2015 1:51 pm

Part three :) please, PLEASE comment with your thoughts/ideas, all feedback is really appreciated!

--

We were tucked up on the settee in the front room, watching the tv. I was wearing one of his shirts, top buttons undone, soft flannel warm on my arms. He laid behind me, on his side, one arm propping his head and the other wrapped around my waist, stroking my thigh. He’d pulled a blanket over us both, tucked us in, and lit the fire that burnt away in the corner of the room.

At first glance, we looked like a normal young couple on a Saturday night. He’d ordered pizza, and the box laid open on the floor, some left where we’d both been too polite to take the final slice. He leant over and kissed my hair and I tilted my head back, nuzzled his chin. Exposing the black leather collar padlocked around my neck, with a leather lead ending in chain, wrapped around his hand.

I liked how it felt, snug around my throat. Every so often he’d give it the gentlest of tugs, reminding me it was there and what that meant. I was his, under his control, and he could do whatever he wanted. And I had no doubt he would.

I didn’t even know what programme was on the tv, my mind too busy whirling. Should I text my mum, let her know where I was? Would I go home tonight? Would he let me? Should it scare me that I didn’t know the answer to that?

I wasn’t scared. My heart beat wouldn’t slow, my fingers still shook slightly, my thoughts wouldn’t settle – but that was anticipation, adrenaline. Was he watching the tv? He was putting on a convincing show, those enchanting, bright blue eyes fixed straight ahead, his hand smoothing my skin absentmindedly.

I snuggled back into him, and his hand slid up my thigh, and across my stomach. The tingling sensation returned beneath the surface of my skin, as his fingers slid up and around my breast. His other hand tightened the lead, gently pulling my head closer to him, my body twisting. I looked up at him, but he still stared straight ahead, expertly slipping my breast free from the cup of my bra. He massaged it softly, before freeing the other, sending shock waves up my spine.

The stroking became firmer and I squirmed, until he eventually turned his full attention to me. He slid his leg across me, straddling me, winding the lead around his hand tightly so that my head was pinned against the sofa. I tugged against it once then laid still, powerless to look anywhere except at him. He smiled, kissing me once before stripping off his t-shirt and placing it over my eyes

I inhaled his sweet scent from the fabric, felt him run his tongue around my nipples, his fingers still stroking and squeezing and gently spanking each one. I wriggled again, my arms laid by my side, too afraid to move. Should I touch him? If so, where? The spanking got harder, his hands slapping at my breasts, until I eventually couldn’t keep mine beside me.

“No!” he suddenly scolded. I froze, as he pulled the t-shirt from my face. We stared at each other, my eyes pleading, his cold. My hands hovered uselessly, unsure of what to do. He stood silently, pulling the lead firmly so I had no choice but to scramble to my feet beside him. He kissed my forehead pulled me out of the room into his bedroom. I followed obediently, sitting down on the bed as he indicated, and let him slide the blindfold over my eyes.

It provoked such a sense of calm, when he stole my sight. I relied on him, trusted him, as he pushed the plastic ball into my mouth. This gag was different to the last, a harness strapped across my face and buckled behind my head in several places, totally encasing it. My jaw was pulled open, the blindfold fixed firmly in place. It was tight, and I moaned into it without realising as he pulled off my shirt and bra, and linked my wrists behind me with handcuffs. I tested the chain, twisting my arms, the blindfold covering my ears and muffling the clinking sound of the metal links grinding against each other.

He began winding rope around me again, this time around my upper body, around my shoulders and above and below my breasts. He fastened my elbows, pinning them to my back. More was bound around my waist, then threaded between my legs. I squirmed again as he laid me on my front, pulling it tight and fastening it behind me. “You love that baby,” he leant forward and whispered, the fibres rubbing softly against my inner thighs.

“Mmph,” I replied, as I felt the familiar tug at my neck. The lead was pulled tight, leaving me with no choice but to try and wriggle forwards and loosen the tension around my neck. It rattled as he fastened it around the headboard, holding me in place. I tried to roll onto my back but he pushed me down, binding my ankles with rope. He bent my knees, pulling my feet up behind me until they were brushing against my bare buttocks. It forced the crotch rope to tighten and I let out another muffled mmph of pleasure.

I felt a tug at the chain linking my arms – he was binding my feet to my hands. He let go off my legs when he finished and I tested the bonds. My suspicions were confirmed, and they were as tight as I’d expected. He’d hogtied me, my feet hanging limply in the air, held in place by my arms. I felt his hand tying something further to my ankles, then he lifted my head back gently, clipping something to the top of the harness around my face. He stepped away, and I tried to lower my head, but couldn’t. I felt my ankles tug, he’d tied it to them! Both my arms and my head were fastened to my feet, my neck attached to the bed from the lead stretching from my collar. I was stuck on my front, the rope around my chest pressing my breasts together so that my erect nipples just grazed the mattress from where my back was arched.

“Comfy baby?” he whispered.

I could barely manage a feeble nod, the bonds were so tight. Still, it wasn’t uncomfortable, too much adrenaline was pounding through my veins for me to notice discomfort. Everything was just tight enough hold me on that line between agony and delight, as he straddled me again. His hands slid beneath my breasts and cupped them once again, squeezing and stroking and tweaking. I tensed, causing the crotch rope to tighten further and rub against me in the perfect spot. The first wave of pure pleasure washed through me and I twisted my wrists, moaning loudly into the gag.

“Struggle for a minute?” he murmured to me, half question, and half demand.

“Mmph,” I once more managed a slight nod.

The mattress creaked as he lifted himself from it, stepping away, leaving me to truly test each bond. I rubbed my ankles together, then my wrists. I strained my elbows against my back, tightening the rope around my chest and further squeezing my breasts. Another gasp tried to escape me, and I wriggled forwards, my nipples rubbing against the mattress, and the rope between my legs pulling tighter than I even thought possible. I shuffled close enough to the headboard of the bed that the lead slackened, and I managed to roll on my side, facing where I knew he’d still be standing. I knew he loved to watch me struggle. I inhaled, gritting my teeth around the plastic, then began.

I fought wildly fight against the bonds, squealing and crying into the gag. I twisted and writhed, thrusting my body against the sheets, bucking and flipping onto my back, stretching every muscle against chain and leather and rope. Every movement tightened and loosened my bonds as I tensed and struggled, until eventually the crotch rope became so taught another wave of hot, sweet agony coursed through me. I collapsed onto my side, panting for breath.

“Oh baby,” his hands were wrapping themselves back around me, rolling me onto my back, my feet pulled back behind me. He brushed my hair away from my face, kissing my nose, then the plastic ball of the gag exposed in my mouth. I grunted in frustration, I wanted to feel his lips, to kiss him back, passionately enough that he’d have no doubt how much I wanted him.

He sat back, releasing the crotch rope and throwing it to one side. He pulled my knees apart and I knew what was coming, yet I still gasped as he pushed himself to me. He wrapped his hands around the rope running above my breasts, gripping it tightly and pushing himself in deeper, until he finally gave us both the release we needed.

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby canuck100 » Wed May 27, 2015 4:49 pm

Your story beats 50 shades of grey by a million miles!

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby Mr Underheel » Fri May 29, 2015 6:14 pm

The concept, writing technique, and detail are fantastic!

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby horseygirl123 » Sat May 30, 2015 4:02 pm

Thank you :) any requests as to where to take the story next?

Re: Weekend at the Stables (M/F)

Postby horseygirl123 » Sat Jun 06, 2015 3:02 pm

Next instalment...

When I woke up, it was still dark. The neon numbers on Sean’s battered alarm clock flashed 5am, and it took a moment to remember where I was. Behind me, his soft breaths suggested he was asleep, and I gently pulled my head back to check.

He was, chest rising peacefully, warm breath against my cheek. For the first time, he was vulnerable.

A wave of excitement rushed through me, as I considered my options. The collar was, of course, padlocked around my neck – he’d made it clear I wasn’t allowed in his flat without it. The end of the lead was wrapped around his hand, and I began to assess how best to free myself.

The fingers of his right hand were clenched around the chain, and I gently set to work uncurling his index and middle fingers.
I had only his thumb to free when I heard him mumble something. I froze, as he rolled over, muttering in his sleep. I grinned, without even realising it he’d loosened his grip, and the chain laid on the bed. I grabbed it quickly, gently easing myself off of the mattress.

A key laid on his desk and I jabbed it into one of the padlocks at the back of my neck, managing to remove the lead. I placed it on the desk, searching for the key to the collar. I crossed to his chest of drawers, pulling open each one until I reached the bottom one.

I froze, gasping. It was filled with all sorts of leather items, ropes and chains. Whips, floggers, paddles were all neatly arranged, alongside a box of blindfolds and gags. There were numerous keys, all labelled for various handcuffs and chains. I turned back to the bed, where he slept peacefully on – and it occurred to me not for the first time that maybe I was taking a big risk, with this stranger holding me captive. The long list of mysteries was becoming never ending. I sped up my search for the key I needed, with no sign of the one I required.

I quickly re-evaluated my plan. If I couldn’t find the key, I would have to ask him. But, he’d never tell me. Unless… unless I forced him to.

I picked up a pair of cuffs, stroked the cold metal, smiling to myself. I found the appropriate key and left it on top of the desk. The way he was laying, his left hand would be easy enough to chain to the bed. I attached the chain to the headboard first, wincing as it clicked noisily. I took a deep breath then tugged his wrist between the metal clasps and clipped it shut.

He didn’t stir, and I returned to the drawer, elated. I selected another pair of cuffs. This would be when he’d undoubtedly wake, there was no way

I’d be able to secure his other arm to the headboard without rolling his over and disturbing him. He would over power me easily, even with only one arm. Speed would be essential.

I took another deep breath, then quickly clipped the cuff around his arm. I hauled him onto his back, wrenching his arm up and securing it to the bed post. I jumped back, satisfied, as he blinked slowly.

He twitched one arm sleepily, than the other. He frowned, opening his eyes, then yanking each arm firmly. I watched in amusement, as he figured it out. His eyes widened, and he pulled himself quickly into a sitting position, fighting both chains.

“Alright baby?” I asked, sitting beside him on the bed, stroking his hair back from his eyes.

He pulled his head away, glaring at me fiercely, “Release me. Now.”

I stood up gleefully, “But I’ve barely started!”

“Ruby…” he warned me. He clocked the discarded lead, the keys on top of his dresser, the open drawer. He shuddered. “Ruby don’t do this!”

I turned, selecting a coil of rope and a gag from the drawer, then climbing back onto the mattress. I straddled him, holding his jaw still. “If you won’t be quiet, I’ll force you to be. Alright?”

He swallowed, and nodded. I turned, sitting on his legs, and binding his ankles together. He tried to resist, but I pulled the bonds tight, knotting it securely. I got off the bed and pulled his legs down, forcing his body to lie flat, arms stretched above him. I felt so comfortable around him, touching him, being with him – my earlier fears disappeared as I bound his legs in place, then unbuckled his belt and lowered his trousers.

He was erect. Chains rattled as he struggled, twisting and writhing on the mattress. I clasped his length firmly, and gave twenty firm tugs. Once I’d finished I sat astride him, pulling off my top and bra, leaning forward so my breasts dangled tantalising in front of his face. He lifted his head, opening his mouth as he reached for my nipples with his tongue. I settled millimetres out of his reach, and he twisted his hands in frustration, making another attempt to lunge towards me.

I pushed him down with ease, lying on top of him and smothering his face in my chest, sliding a hand behind his head and pressing it further between my breasts. I felt him inhale deeply, warm against my skin. My hands searching for him and giving him another twenty tugs. His body quivered beneath my touch, arching up as he whimpered for more.

I retreated back to the drawer, leaving him wriggling on the mattress. I collected more rope and bound him below and above his knees, completely immobilising his lower body. He remained silent, and I rewarded him with a further twenty tugs. He tried to thrust against my hand, eyes shut tightly in desperation, a moan escaping his lips.

“Please…” he whispered, “Please!”

I hadn’t expected to feel so turned on, but the sound of him pleading, the sight of him bound and at my mercy was sending a familiar warmth through my body. I found the gag I was looking for, the harness gag, and he opened his eyes in alarm.

“No!” he pulled his head away as far as he could, “Please, no! Please!”

I sat back, surveying him, “Are you begging me?” I asked.

He reluctantly looked at me, inclining his head slightly.

“Is that a yes?” I asked sharply.

“Y-yes,” he muttered.

I gripped his jaw once more, lifting his head. “If I were to have begged you, would you have listened?”

He hesitated, “Yes?”

“Liar!” I exclaimed, dropping his head and pushing the plastic ball into his mouth. He resisted as best he could, but I soon managed to buckle the harness over his head. I left him without the blindfold, I liked watching his eyes. I grabbed the discarded lead from the desk and buckled it to the harness, attaching the chain to the headboard of the bed. He grunted and protested, but I observed his length increasing, smiling.

I grabbed the keys from the dresser and unlocked one of his handcuffs, rolling him and reattaching the other so he was laid on his front, arms stretched away from him once more. His beautiful, firm buttocks laid exposed to me, and I ran my hands down them, unable to resist slapping them gently. I felt him jump slightly, heard a muffled moan, and I retrieved one of the crops from his drawer. I had the delight of watching his eyes widen, and his muscles clenched as I brought it down on his skin.

“Mmph!” he cried, as I repeatedly brought the crop down on his backside. I ran it up the back of his legs, tapping them gently, before landing more beatings across both buttocks. The sound of his muffled screams turned me on even more, and once his skin began to turn darker shades of red I stopped, turning him back over once more.

“Mmph!” he began to really struggle, I could see the muscles in his arms and legs bulge as he fought, teeth gritted around the plastic ball. I gave another ten tugs, and he once again cried out in protest as I finished. I licked and sucked his nipples, nibbling them gently to the sound of his soft moans.

“Ok baby?” I asked him.

His eyes blazed, as he rattled the chains around his wrists fiercely.

“I can’t hear you sweetheart,” I whispered.

“Mmphmmph!” he cried, eyes once again squeezed shut. I clasped my hand around him, giving him ten more tugs until I was sure he was completely on the brink, before stopping. He pounded his body on the bed, trying to pull up his legs, his throbbing length desperate for relief. He was crying into the gag, eyes flashing wildly, desperately trying to meet mine.

After a few moments of watching I finally took pity on him, straddling him and pushing his length into my mouth. I moved my mouth up and down him, letting him attempt to thrust inside me. I licked gently, taking great delight in watching his whole body quiver. My lips closed tightly around his base, and I gripped his thighs with my hands, allowing him to eventually find his release, with a final loud, desperate scream.