by Jeff Sinclair

Originally published in HOM Bondage Magazine, issue unknown

Transcribed by guardian46w

Story codes: F/f, bdsm, reluct, blackmail, leather, gag, chain, blindfold, outdoor, tease, M/f, surprise, romance, X

That was Sylvia's dream...
Finding someone she could trust enough.
But, Gina's unexpected discovery sent Sylvia
rushing forward down a path full of unknowns!

The chiming chain leashing her leather collar to the saddle only made it ten times worse, and strangely, burning, better.  She raised her eyes, watching Gina Crookshank's black pony tail bounce under her white Stetson.  Her best friend rode with lifelong ease, managing her reins with one hand and leading the pack horse and Sylvia's mare with the other.  Sylvia considered pleading again, but the pitiful whining sounds she could make through her gag were too humiliating... and futile.

She closed her eyes against the morning sun, tasting the wet silk swelling her mouth.  She would have stayed home if she'd guessed for a moment what Gina had in mind!  Or, at least, she thought she would have.

Sylvia and Gina had become dormitory roommates and fast friends in their freshman year of college.  Since graduation, they'd shared a modest apartment, and the escape from dormitory living – like getting out of prison – might have been why Sylvia became just a tiny bit careless.

Or perhaps it was Steve Jurgens.  She had mixed feelings about Steve.  Very mixed feelings.  He was Gina's cousin, and certainly not the handsome fellow she'd expected to fall for.  But homely or not, he was really wonderful once you got to know him.  He was gentle, with a wicked sense of humor and the kind of intelligence that had breezed through a physics doctorate with a 3.9 GPA.

But the idea of anything really serious between them was a bit scary.  Not that they weren't compatible in bed, they were, or that she could ever hope to find someone nicer, she couldn't.  It was just that, there were things he didn't know.  Things she'd gone to great lengths to insure that nobody knew, for no liberated ninety's girl could admit she dreamed of captivity, especially not captivity that was so... stringent.  And so erotic.

Sylvia didn't really know when those dreams began.  She'd always enjoyed the Cowboys and Indian games, as a girl.  Then there had been the way distressed damsels on lurid book covers looked so much more beautiful because of their bonds.  And somewhere along the line she'd discovered other sorts of novels.

Yet, for all her fascination, she'd never had the courage to discuss it with anyone.  The best she'd been able to do was buy a few items of equipment, carefully hidden in the same drawer as her bondage books and magazines, and play at self-bondage in secret, but the fantasies she enjoyed in her self-inflicted handcuffs were incredible.  The sense of being vulnerable before her wicked, imaginary captor.  Yet, she was not a fool.  She knew her enjoyment of the reality would be directly proportional to her trust, for that was the other dream – the dream of finding someone she could trust enough to give herself to him as a bound captive.

And that was why she hesitated over Steve.  He was such a straight arrow, so utterly, healthily normal, that she couldn't even imagine telling him her dreams.  If she followed her heart and made him a permanent part of her life, she would probably never know what real bondage might be like.

She was a little ashamed of the way her hesitancy made her act.  She'd treated Steve badly of late, and she was only grateful he didn't snap back at her in kind.  Or was she?  Would she have preferred for him to bite her head off?  Was she unconsciously trying to make him forget his gentleness in the hope that he would dominate her?  If so, she realized, she was being foolish, for she already knew hostility was not part of the erotic bondage she craved.

But her uncertainty and growing general misery make her jump at Gina's invitation.  They both loved to ride, though opportunities were few in the city, so Gina hadn't had to ask twice when she invited Sylvia to her family's ranch for a two-week horseback and camping trip, starting this morning.  But things had... gotten out of hand.

They were barely out of sight of the ranch house when Gina suddenly drew rein.  Sylvia stopped beside her, pushing her flat-crowned, black hat off her golden hair to hang down her back, and her gray eyes were curious.

"Why're we stopping?" she asked unsuspectingly.

"I've got something to show you." Gina dismounted gracefully and looped her reins around an aspen.  "Get down and take a look."

"At what?" Sylvia waved at the thick, vision-blocking aspens about them, but Gina only grinned.  "Oh, all right!" she finally laughed, dismounting with a grin of her own.  "So, what is it you want me to see?"

"This," Gina said calmly.  She opened her saddlebag, and Sylvia's eyes widened in shock as she drew out the magazines... and a collar.  They were from her 'hidden' drawer in the apartment!

"W-what are you doing with those?" Her voice was suddenly hoarse, and she flushed.  "Who told you to pry through my things?" she demanded, hotly.

"I didn't 'pry' Sylvie," Gina said calmly.  "You asked me to help find your green blouse last month, remember?" Sylvia almost snapped a denial, but innate honesty made her nod unwillingly.  She had asked Gina to help look.

"Well, that's when I found these.  I didn't mention them, obviously you didn't want to talk about them, but then you had that fight with Steve."

Sylvia flushed even darker, and lowered her eyes.  She felt ashamed every time she remembered that fight.  It was the worst, absolutely the worst! she'd ever treated Steve.  And the fact that even nasty, cutting remarks hadn't elicited a single angry response only made her feel worse about it.

"I see you remember."  Gina's brown eyes were hard.  "I've always been close to Steve, Sylvie, and you really pissed me off.  So I thought about that and put it together with these," she twitched her finds meaningfully, "and decided that if he wouldn't do anything about your bitchiness, I would."

"W-what do you mean?" Sylvia asked.  Part of her was furious with Gina, but another part admitted the justice of the charges.  And there was something else, a curious erosion of will, as if Gina had somehow seized the high ground, putting her at a disadvantage, waking a strange passivity within her.

"I mean this little vacation will be special, dear," Gina said, levelly.  "I'm going to find out how much you really like bondage."

Sylvia stared at her in horror.  A horror touched by a strange inner tingle as her friend nodded slowly.  "No!  I won't let you!"

"Fine," Gina said calmly, putting her finds back into her saddlebag.  "It's up to you, but there is a little penalty for refusing, of course."

"P-penalty?" Sylvia asked hoarsely.  The morning was cool, but it was oddly difficult to breathe, and sweat trickled.  "What penalty?"

"Oh, I'll just hand all this stuff over to Steve," Gina said softly.

Sylvia gasped.  That would be... be treason!  A betrayal of her deepest, darkest secret.  The one thing she simply couldn't tell Steve about!

"No, please!" She held out a hand.  "Give them back to me!"  She tried to make her voice commanding, but, to her horror, it came out softly pleading.

"Nope.  These," Gina patted her saddlebag fondly, "are my secret weapons.  You either agree, or I give 'em to Steve."

She smiled, and Sylvia's gray eyes turned desperate.  She considered trying to retake them by force, but she was a slim, willowy girl.  Gina was far sturdier, easily capable of besting her, yet what really stopped her were two shocking realizations.  First, Gina was right about her 'bitchy' behavior, and second, she never could admit her interest to anyone, unless she was forced to.

It was the second point that put an arrested light in her eyes.  She didn't want to be tied up as chastisement for her misdeeds, yet she did.  The secret fascination at her core, the hunger to know what it was like – really like – whispered to her.

She swallowed, and sweat beaded her forehead as temptation stirred.  Gina had used the word 'penalty' and that made her uneasy, yet Gina was also her best friend.  Even now, she hadn't told Steve, yet.  And, Sylvia thought wonderingly, though she was nervous, she wasn't really frightened.  She felt humiliated, anxious, hesitant, but not frightened.

"W-what did you have in mind?" she asked with fragile dignity.

"Ah, ah!  That would be telling!" Gina stroked Sylvia's cheek, and she shivered.  Gina had never touched her like that.  There was something sensual about it, tempting and sweet.  But, Gina was a woman!

Of course she is, an inner voice whispered.  That's why it feels so wicked and exciting.

"I can't just give you a blank check!" she wailed, wringing her hands.

"That's exactly what you will do, sweetheart," Gina said softly.  "Oh, I won't hurt you, but," she grinned wickedly, "we'll use my rules."

Sylvia stared at her, eyes half-tragic and half-aglow as temptation and hesitation warred in her brain.  But before she could speak, Gina's hand shot out, capturing her regal little head, and a hot, ripe mouth pressed hers!  Sylvia gasped in shock and tried to pull away, but her muscles had turned to jelly and her breasts throbbed.  A hot pulse burned her belly and spread downward, and when Gina's tongue taunted her lips she opened them, groaning.

"There," Gina whispered, still holding her head.  "I've wanted to do that for sooo long.  And now I can, can't I?" She smiled a mocking, tender smile, brown eyes glowing.  "I can do whatever I want now, can't I, Sylvie?"

Sylvia's eyelids fluttered.  Her shocked brain fought to reject Gina's taunting words, but her lips felt bruised, burning from Gina's kiss, and passion had invaded her.

"Y-yes," she whispered trembling, and Gina kissed her sweating forehead.

"Then kneel down, Sylvie," she murmured.

There was no resistance in her, and she knelt dreamily amid the rustling aspens.  Gina had mutated magically from friend and confidante to captor and lover in the blink of an eye, and the shock of her transformation stunned her.  She watched Gina open her saddlebag again, this time for a fistful of silk bandannas and a coil of white rope, and gripped her denim-clad thighs, eyes timid and confused as a hand stroked her silken hair possessively.

"Open wide, lover," Gina whispered.

Sylvia trembled as Gina called her 'lover' but she opened her lips with a soft whimper, knowing what was about to happen.  Gina positioned her lax head just so, then snapped a bandanna in midair like a stage magician.  Sylvia's mesmerized eyes followed it, then closed, and she groaned as Gina tucked it neatly into her obedient mouth.

The kneeling young woman quivered, squeezing her thighs tight.  She'd gagged herself before, but it had never felt like this!  Then she'd known she could remove it.  Now, she couldn't, and she moaned as her voice was stolen.

The bandanna swelled her mouth, and her head was bent forward.  A rolled rope of silk pressed her lips, and she hissed through her nose as a second bandanna stretched the corners of her mouth and compressed the wadded gag.  Gina knotted it securely under the golden fall of her hair, then pushed her head back up, and a delicate fingertip stroked her closed lashes.

"Hold out your hands," Gina whispered, and Sylvia obeyed.  Her arms were lax, unresisting as Gina crossed her wrists and bound them.  Though Gina was careful not to hurt her, the tight bracelet of rope was inescapable.  Sylvia knew it was, and that certainty blazed deep inside, a forest fire quickening within her.  Someone else was tying her, someone who'd taken her.  She'd wondered what captivity felt like.  This was what it felt like, and it caused a fire to begin to burn in her veins.

"There," Gina said softly, knotting the cord.  "Now for this."

Sylvia's eyes opened slowly and saw a familiar collar and an unfamiliar fine-linked chain.  She wanted to protest, but she didn't.  She couldn't.  She'd agreed to submit.  Moreover, she wanted to.

Cool fingers raised her chin, and she knelt, motionless, as leather circled her throat.  She'd donned it herself in the past, to grip with authority, driving home her surrender, yet not enough to choke her.  She swallowed convulsively, feeling the collar squeeze still tighter, and her hands slid down to press the hot, wet swelling hidden by her denims.

"Up you get," Gina murmured.  She rose awkwardly, never moving her hands, and Gina chuckled at their grip as she towed her to the mare.  Sylvia clutched the saddle horn with bound hands, but her muscles were water.  Gina had to help her clamber awkwardly up, and her face was crimson.

"Now," Gina said, and Sylvia's collar vibrated as her captor leashed her to the saddle horn.  "That's how a little pet rides," she teased, "but you seem a bit weak-kneed.  We don't want you falling off, do we?  Soooo..."

Sylvia's arms were limp as Gina lashed her wrists down and then stood on tiptoe, reaching up to slip her hat carefully back onto her head.

"Now that's pretty as a picture," she said, and Sylvia opened her molten eyes, staring down in mingled shame, excitement, and anxiety.  "Don't worry, lover," Gina teased.  "This is a big ranch.  I doubt anyone's going to come along and see you.  Although," her eyes twinkled, "I can't be sure, can I?"

Sylvia moaned almost pleadingly.  But only almost, for the horrifying thought of being seen, laced her blood with fire, as Gina gathered up the mare's reins, swung lithely up onto her own gelding, and urged the horses to a trot.

Gina never spoke, and Sylvia bounced along beside the pack horse like another piece of baggage, a parcel to be ignored until Gina had a use for her.  Her sense of captivity grew ever sharper, simmering, and she blushed when she caught herself bouncing her throbbing groin against her saddle as she posted to her mare's trot.  She blushed, but she didn't stop.

The sun grew hot, and she blinked the sweat away, as it dripped across her eyelids, tugging uselessly at her bound wrists in an effort to wipe it away.  The chance of exposure gilded her fate with a wicked glitter.  The Crookshank ranch stretched for miles, and the odds of meeting anyone were low, but, what if they did?  The mere chance devastated her, filling her by turns with fiery excitement and shivering dread.

They rode for hours before they reached a small river valley, and Sylvia wiggled in her saddle as she saw the glint of water.  She was thirsty, and she'd watched Gina drink from her canteen without offering it to her.  Her own canteen hung at her saddle, but even if her hands had been free she couldn't have drunk through her gag, and her total dependence on Gina for anything underscored her vulnerability ruthlessly, fanning her excitement.

Gina urged the horses back to a trot, bouncing Sylvia up and down until she closed her eyes, gasping in arousal.  Then her captor dismounted beside the shallow stream.  She tied the pack horse and her own mount, took down her saddlebags, and led the mare downstream to a small tree-filled hollow.

Sylvia swallowed again and again, biting the wet silk in her mouth as she realized they'd arrived.  She whimpered softly, wondering what Gina planned, then moaned as her captor tossed a coil of rope over a stout oak limb.  It slithered down like a serpent, and Sylvia knew it was for her.

Gina hummed merrily as she unfastened Sylvia's wrists, but not her leash from her saddle and helped her down.  She had to lean against her horse on her short tether, and Gina giggled.  She looked up shyly to see what amused her captor, then saw the angle of the laughing brown eyes and bent her head, flushing wine-dark as she saw the dark wetness splotching her denims' crotch.  The proof of her arousal humiliated her unspeakably, and filled her with even hotter lust as Gina giggled again.

"My, my, you do seem to have enjoyed the ride!" Sylvia ducked her head, unable to face her captor.  "What you need, you poor, overheated dear, is a little rest.  A little time to ponder your sins."  Gina untied her wrists as she spoke, and Sylvia stared down at the rope marks on her skin she started to raise a hand to her gag, but Gina swatted her wrist hard enough to sting, and she snatched it back down with a gasp.

"Behave," Gina said sternly, gripping her leash, "and turn around!" she pulled sharply, and Sylvia turned involuntarily, her face pressing her saddle blanket.  She whiffed plaintively through her gag, then wiggled, uselessly as her hands were retied behind her back, much tighter.  Her hat fell off, dangling down her back, and she whined as more cord noosed her elbows.  She pressed her cheek into the saddle blanket and gasped, her head rolling in acceptance as her elbows kissed behind her.  She'd never suspected they could, and she felt her breasts rounding proudly as her shoulders strained.

"There," Gina said calmly, unleashing her from the saddle at last.  She tugged imperiously, and Sylvia stumbled at her heels, panting ad awkward with her bound arms, wide eyes glued to the dangling rope.

They stopped, and Sylvia's head drooped as the hanging rope was lashed to her corded elbows.  Sweat oiled her breasts and she smelled her own lust mixing with the smell of dust and the river.  Gina tied the rope to hold her in place, and a mocking finger under her chin tipped her head up to stare into laughing eyes.

"You're going to be here a while, lover," Gina teased.  "I have to find a camp, get the tent up, picket the horses.  Shucks, it'll probably be sundown before I finish all that, and I hate stumbling around in the dark.  So," her eyes glinted at Sylvia's soft, confused sound, "we'll start by giving you all night to repent your sins."

Sylvia moaned pleadingly, her eyes soft.  No!  Not tied up all night!

But Gina's brown eyes mocked her, and her heart sank.  She meant it and there was nothing Sylvia could do about it!  Her pulse beat quicker at the thought of being abandoned all night, bound in the darkness, and a flutter of fear churned her belly, but so did passion.

"Now, that's a long time," Gina said cheerfully, "and we don't want you having an accident."  She touched Sylvia's belly, stroking slowly down, and Sylvia jerked, trying to clamp her legs, but she was too late.  "You've already 'wet' your pants once, didn't you, dear?" Gina mocked, squeezing Sylvia's crotch.  "We don't want that to happen again, do we?"

Sylvia stared at her, her mind whirling in confusion, then gasped, hips writhing as Gina opened her belt.  She shook her head, whining piteously, trying to back away as she realized her captor's intent, but Gina simply followed her until the rope to her elbows stopped her.

Sylvia jerked at the crisp little sound of her jeans' snap, then closed her eyes and whimpered hopelessly as her zipper hissed.  Gina's hand slid into the opening, creeping between her passion-slick thighs, and Sylvia sobbed convulsively, grinding against it.  Her face and throat blazed crimson, but she couldn't stop the movement of her hips or her soft, urgent moans of growing pleasure.  But Gina drew back before she found release, and she hung her head, quivering and burning as her denims were dragged down.  She bit her gag against her soft, hopeless plaints as Gina removed her boots, and then her denims slid lower, vanishing over her bare feet.

But Gina was far from finished, and Sylvia writhed in futile resistance.  It was useless, as she'd known it would be, and her eyes squeezed shut as her panties were taken and cool air kissed her flesh.

"What a pretty little puss," Gina murmured.  "No wonder Steve likes it." Sylvia cried out through her gag as Gina caressed her shrewdly, then twisted as a piercing finger painted her nerves with fire.

But the finger sucked free as quickly as it had come, and she opened her eyes, pleading silently with Gina, but whether for release or the return of the humiliating finger she couldn't have said.  Not that it mattered, for Gina ignored her plea and began to unbutton her plaid shirt.  Tears of disgrace and frustrated passion dewed Sylvia's eyes, and Gina giggled and licked them delicately from her lashes.

"Yum.  You taste nice.  Should I nibble on you before I go?" she mused as she opened the last button.  "No," she decided regretfully, unhooking her flimsy bra.  "This is to expiate your sins, after all."  Sylvia twitched as Gina calmly snapped the bra's shoulder straps.  "Oops, it broke," she said mockingly, and dropped it atop Sylvia's discarded denims.  Taunting fingers stroked the sweating satin of Sylvia's breasts and plucked her hard, cherry-dark nipples.  Gina squeezed them gently, licking their pebbled aureola, and Sylvia's thighs worked.  She arched her throat, lashing her head, but Gina only laughed and drew back.

"My goodness, you're a randy little thing!"  She slid Sylvia's shirt off her shoulders, baring her sweating body, and stroked her.  "I hope Steve doesn't mind my sharing you," Gina whispered, "because I intend to."  She licked a nipple tauntingly.  "Oh, yes, I intend to!"

She grinned, then knelt, and Sylvia stared down, panting, as her ankles were bound to widely-separated tree roots.  Tendons tensed in her groin as her thighs opened, and Gina looped another rope about her waist.  She knotted it tight below Sylvia's deep navel and passed its ends between her thighs attached it to her bound wrists.  Sylvia closed her eyes, shuddering in anticipation, then grunted in gagged passion as the crotch rope divided her swollen petals and the crevice of her bottom.  The rope pinned her hands to her bottom.

"And, now," Gina murmured, and hauled on Sylvia's suspending rope, lifting her onto the balls of her arched feet and tightening the crotch rope wickedly.  Muscles clenched in her smooth, wet thighs and she moaned imploringly, but Gina only laughed.

"Now you just stand there, you horny little thing," she mocked.  "I'll be back at dawn, and maybe then I'll do something about this!"  Sylvia squealed, jerking spastically as a slender finger burrowed under the tight crotch rope.  "Then again, maybe I won't.  Sleep tight."

And with that taunting farewell, Gina led the mare off through the trees.

Sylvia never knew how long she spent under that limb.  It was hot and still, and the heat and passion gilded her in sweat.  Her bonds had been arranged with care, wide bands of rope spreading the pressure, but her shoulders still ached.  Worse, the crotch rope was a braided devil, tempting her, driving her to squirm, whimpering until she exploded in squealing orgasm.

Escape was impossible.  She couldn't even touch a single knot.  She drooled around her gag, ropes of spittle hanging from her chin to her sweat-slick breasts, and her aroma hung in the air.

She'd never been so miserable, nor so vibrantly alive.  She closed her eyes, panting in strain and delight.  Her headiest dreams had been but shadows of this!  To be bound like this, wickedly and sexily, feeling the stringency of captivity, and then abandoned did terrible things to her.  She was on fire, drowning in her own sensuality.  Her head drooped, golden hair veiling her face, and the leash hung from her collar.  Her cords distributed her weight over her arms and crotch, her suspending rope creaked, and her sluggish thoughts were dreamy with passion.

Slow hours passed before something finally reached into her cocoon of lust, and she raised her head, listening.

Hooves!  Gina was coming back.  She'd only been teasing!  But then her relief vanished.  The hooves came from the wrong direction!  She writhed frantically, her supporting limb swaying as if in a high wind, but there was no escape and her bound feet kept her from even turning.  She strained her neck, fighting to see and hoping the rider would pass without seeing her.

But the hooves grew louder, heading straight for her!  Her gray eyes widened and her searing blush spread down over her naked breasts as the rider came into sight.  It was a man!  The shadow of his Stetson hid his face, but he was broad-shouldered, riding easily on a big, rawboned roan.  Shock boiled in her blood, but her whimpers took on an edge of horror as she felt her wretched sensuality burn hotter than ever in her breasts and belly!  What was wrong with her?  She didn't even know this man!

Yet, that meant nothing to her perverse body.  Anxious passion flooded her, liberated and grown arrogant with the bite of rope.  She was molten with lust, and she could do nothing about it!  She watched hopelessly, eyes aching with the intensity of her stare.  He came relentlessly closer, and she wailed, wrenching at her cords, as he looked straight at her!  She still couldn't see his face, but she saw him rein in for an instant, staring at her exposed nudity, and his shoulders seemed to quiver with laughter as he urged the big roan back up to a canter.

She closed her eyes as hooves thudded louder and closer.  Then she heard them splash in water and fall dully on this bank of the river.  Sobs shook her shoulders, yet she throbbed with lust, her brain a whirl with confusion and strange, eager terror as she heard him dismount.

"Well, well, well," a voice said, and her head jerked up in shock, for she knew that voice!  It was Steve!

It was, and bottomless humiliation engulfed her universe as she stared into his face, her darkest secret revealed.  His brown eyes met her wet, horrified gaze, and he smiled slowly.

"Somebody told me you and Gina were headed this way," he said, and she felt even more ashamed at the lack of surprise in his voice.  He tucked his hands behind him and circled her slowly, and she watched him anxiously, awaiting his reaction with breathless, burning timidity.

"I think I prefer you like this, Sylvie," he finally said judiciously, "especially when I remember some of the things you've said to me."  He smiled, a gentle smile she knew well, but with something added.  Knowledge.  Knowledge of what she was, and a desire to use that knowledge.

"In fact," he said softly, "I think I might... take advantage of you."

She whimpered, shaking her head, but it was as it had been with Gina.  Even as she tried to plead, she felt the fire in her eyes project another message.  A deeper, truer message.

She trembled as he untied her ankles.  At least she was able to close her legs, but that was little comfort.  Her firm, heart-shaped bottom quivered spastically as he moved behind her, untying her suspending rope without unbinding her arms.  Then he turned her wordlessly and took her leash with a wicked grin.  She tried to resist, really tried, but he was too strong, and she was bound.  Yet it was her own nature that truly defeated her, and as she stumbled after him her half-terrified whimpers were also eager.

He sat on a fallen log, then jerked so suddenly on the leash that Sylvia lost her balance.  She fell with a squeal, but he caught her neatly and spun her to fall belly-down across his thigh, and before she could grasp what was happening, his legs closed, capturing her between them.  She moaned, the bright terror of her fall roaring within her passion like oxygen in a furnace, but he ignored her sounds and untied her wet crotch rope, gripping her bound wrists irresistibly.  He lifted her arms, bending her sharply and thrusting her bottom high, and only then did she recognize her classic position.

She wailed as he regarded her momentarily.  But shame wasn't all that wrung wails from her, for his hand molded to her satin bottom!  It was shockingly hot and strong, and she shook her head frantically, whining through her gag as it rose, then squealed through her nose as it popped back down with a crack.  A bolt of sensuality exploded within her, and she wailed in a confusion of fiery, passionate embarrassment.  He was spanking her!

She twisted and fought, but though he was neither rough nor cruel, he defeated her with ease, driving home his greater strength while his spanking heated her bottom.  Tears soaked her lashes, tears of shame and contrition, and she keened through her gag.  It scorched her nerves, yet, it didn't hurt.  Not compared to the passion it awoke!  Her wail softened as the truth dawned.  He was spanking her, but he wasn't hurting her.  Because, understanding flared through her overloaded brain, he knew!  Wonder of wonders.  He knew exactly what he was doing, and exactly how to do it!

She moaned, pressing her cheek against his leg, and surrendered.  She'd wondered what it would feel like to give herself to someone she loved and trusted, now she did know.  Even better, she knew what it felt like to be taken by that beloved and trusted someone.

Her bottom rose to meet his hand, and she squealed in delight as his descending palm drove her loins against his thigh, rubbing on his denims, and a shudder of white fire flared in her.  She stroked against him, and the spanking went on and on and on, until the last doubts were banished by ardent need and she exploded across his thigh.  She thrashed, convulsing as the intensity of the buildup took over.  And then she collapsed, weak and shuddering, twitching in the sweet aftermath of the most powerful orgasm of her life.

She felt him rip the shirt from her arms, but her eyelids were too weighted with passion and surrender to open until he laid the shirt on the ground and lowered her to it.  Then her eyes opened at last, peeping liquidly up in loving passion and sweet apology for how she'd treated him.  His tender smile accepted her apology, but it also warned her penance was far from done, and her glowing eyes acknowledged his mastery and accepted her fate as he gripped her ankles.  He raised them, parting her legs, bending them until her kneecaps touched her shoulders and she was open and exposed, and she crooned as he leaned forward.

She groaned as he entered gently, taking her with tenderness, all the sweeter after her spanking, fulling her with pleasure.  She clasped her silken muscles, squeezing him wetly, and her head rolled as she yielded to him as never before – utterly, completely, and forever.

It was almost sunset before Steve and Sylvia left the hollow of her annunciation.  He was on foot, carrying his saddle over one shoulder, for Sylvia rode his big roan, though not as she'd ever ridden in her life.  She lay face-up, stretched lengthwise down the big horse's spine, and her wrists were tied around the base of his neck.  Another rope cinched her hips, passing under his belly like a girth and so tight she couldn't have squirmed off on purpose, much less fallen.  As a final precaution, however, her ankles were roped, her legs split wide by cords which folder them down on either side of the horse and met in the center of the rope girth.

She'd never imagined such a vulnerable position was possible, and the motion of the horse felt unutterably strange.  His ropes were much tighter than Gina's, too, but he'd applied them with exactly the tender ruthlessness she'd dreamed of, and her heart was soft with love.  She wondered where he was taking her, what would happen when they got there, and what Gina would think next morning when she found her missing?  The last thought made her smile around her gag, eyes glinting with amusement.  Serves her right for being careless with her property, she thought with a giggle.

They had gone perhaps a mile when she heard the sound of hooves again, and a fresh flood of embarrassment engulfed her.  It was curiously muted, mingled with the memory of the last time she'd heard a horse, but it was enough to set her squirming in a futile effort to escape.

"Stop that," Steve said softly, and she was instantly motionless, crooning to him as she proved her obedience.  "Good," he said

He stopped, waiting, and the hooves came quickly closer.  Then they were right beside her, and she turned her head, face crimson, and saw the rider.  It was Gina, astride her gelding and leading the unsaddled mare.  Somehow that didn't really surprise Sylvia, but what did surprise her was the handcuff locked to Gina's right wrist!  The other, open bracelet hung like an ornament, and a leather ball gag was buckled about her neck like a strange bandanna.

"I see you found her," Gina observed, and Sylvia wiggled in confusion as Steve chuckled.  They were both taking this much too calmly!

"You gave good directions," Steve replied, and understanding struck Sylvia.

She stared accusingly at Gina.  No wonder Steve had taken this all in stride!  Gina had threatened to tell him when all the time she already had!

"My, you look surprised!" Gina leaned over and caressed her syrupy softness, laughing as she arched.  "But, I never said I hadn't told Steve about you," she said virtuously, "only that I'd give him your things!"

Sylvia stiffened, then relaxed wryly, it was true.  She'd assumed Gina meant she'd tell, but Gina had never said anything of the sort.  She shook her head chiding, and arched again, thrusting harder against Gina's hand.

"Oho!  You are a horny little thing, aren't you?" her friend teased, and Sylvia nodded.  Why not?  It was true.  Indisputably, gloriously true.

"Well that's good, Sylvie," Gina said more seriously, "because I am, too, and Steve and I have been playing bondage games for years."  Sylvia swiveled her head to stare at Steve, and he grinned back.  She returned her wide-eyed gaze to Gina, and Gina chuckled.  "I set you up, hon, but you really should have trusted him enough to tell him and saved us so much trouble, though it may have been better this way, at that.  Do you think so?"

Sylvia nodded emphatically, and her captors laughed.

"Good!  But now it's time for Steve to 'catch' me, too," Gina said as Steve threw his saddle onto the mare.  An edge of excitement sharpened her voice, and Sylvia's eyes lit.  Both of them?  Steve's for two weeks!?

"True, but I've had a long, hard day," Steve said in a quavering, exhausted voice, and Sylvia giggled into her gag.  "Catch yourself, Gina."

"Why, you lazy bastard," Gina said, her eyes sultry.  "Maybe I ought to make you work for it."

"Aw, come on, Gina." He fastened his girth.  "Go easy on me!"

"Hmph!" she snorted, but Sylvia watched her lick the ball gag sensually and then slide it into her pouting mouth.  She buckled it behind her head, sitting her gelding easily, then reached behind her and closed the open handcuff on her left wrist, confining herself inescapably.

"Thanks," Steve sighed wearily, climbing into the saddle like a man who'd spent all day breaking horses, which, in a sense, he had, Sylvia thought happily.  He caught up the reins of both horses, then looked back at his subjects and removed his Stetson.

"It looks," he told Sylvia, "like the nasty villain wins this time, hehe!" He winked lecherously, and her eyes sparkled.  "So it's time for us to vanish in a cloud of dust with a hearty," his own eyes gleamed as he waved his hat grandly, "hi-Yo, Sylvie, awaaaaaay!"

And they galloped off into the sunset… laughing.?

THE END