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From: txpleasure@aol.com (TXPleasure)
Subject: Barscene...A Texas style BDSM story w/ a twist...

Ditto on the disclaimers everyone else puts here.  


Barscene

It had been a long time.  She didn't know whether she had stayed away for
him , or because of him.  But there was the dance floor, and several
cowboys sauntering up already. She doesn't want to dance yet, so she turns
and starts walking.

It is a warm night, middle of summer...dry Texas heat wave coming on
strong.  Her Rockies fit like a glove.  Her ass is framed with the denim
seam so tight  that it would show every flaw, were there any.  Long legs
hold that heart shaped ass up and move with supple elegance through the
crowd.  The black laceups are tight and hot on her feet this time of
year..but she's here to dance and dancing requires the right foot gear. 
Everything requires the right equipment...she'd be changing for him later.
 

The crowd parts slightly everywhere she struts.  Hard to miss in those
jeans, and with that little tiny, summer crop top that, well, a mother
wouldn't have approved!  Her ample breasts bring smirks of delight from
the men as she passes by. The soft black material clings to the melon
shape of her form.  Her cleavage is clearly visible, as is her belly
button, with it's temporary tattoo showing just slightly.  Showing just
enough to make them wonder, deceiving the casual eye.   Gentlemen all,
they don't reach, but fists clench as she walks by.  She's oblivious.  But
He isn't.  His table is in the middle, a tier up.  He watches everything
in the bar, and her...all the time.  And she knows he is watching,
guarding, but she doesn't look his way, or even try to catch his eye. 
Make the evening last, she thinks.. 

The cowboy she picks out is a medium.  Not too tall, but not shorter than
she.  And he is watching the crowd.  A challenge.  She spots a friend
nearby and stops to chat, constantly making eye contact with the lone
cowboy.  She is determined to dance with him until sweat runs down her
cleavage.  His move is almost imperceptible.  He nods his head towards the
crowded dance floor, lifts his eyebrow in a question and they are on the
floor.  He starts a smooth, slow gait, no turns.  Just a smooth two step. 
No talking, no chit chat. she hates that and would have walked off the
floor.  They dance a round to learn each other's moves, then finally say
hello to each other.  Onlookers see the next bit of conversation  as cosy,
 but it is only deal making...he needs to impress upon someone his
absence...she needs to impress Him.  

By the time the next song plays, they are clearing the floor.  Couples
move away, some in awe, some in frustration as this silent couple spins
and turns.  Her hair flies around with each spin, and lands perfectly in
place.  Her hands explore his back and his arms,  as his rove her body in
a guise of spinning her, and leading her.  She follows well.  It's as if
they have been together for years, not minutes.  Dirty Dancing, fuck
dancing, country style.

By the time she leaves the floor with him, everyone in the bar has
glimpsed the ass in the jeans, deeply inhaled at the thought of their
hands gaining access to that set of (hooters) and caught the grin that
emanated not from her slightly parted, full lips, but from her
eyes..vibrant green eyes, shining with purpose, delight  and provocation.

Her long, slender fingers wrap themselves hungrily around the long necked
beer bottle.   Her chin arches to the ceiling as she raises the glass
bottle slowly to her mouth, knowing what an obscene illustration the
slightest change in gesture could produce.   No, she doesn't.  She knows
such a scene is still to come, but privately.  And she longs for it.  But
she will show off for him first.

Polite talk with friends.  Her dance partner watches as she flirts, and
hugs old acquaintances.  Several other men ask her to dance.  She turns
them down, then reaches back to him.  They slide more slowly this time, a
waltz.  Soft, smooth and slow.  She takes this time to draw the stares.
Her hands roam unbridled down his back, and around his sides.  He imagines
his old love.  She imagines her Master.  Song over, she thanks him with a
very discreet kiss and completes her circle around the bar.  She pays for
a beer, and heads back into the crowd.  Flushed face, but no
longer out of breath, she slips the bottle onto His table and smiles.  He
tells her to go away, that he will come for her.

A little later, she's chatting, flirting, still wriggling her ass in front
of cowboys and wanna be's that are growing hard watching her. The she
feels His hand on her ass from behind.  

"It's time to leave, Now."

She doesn't even say goodbye to those  nearby and walks silently out the
door after Him.

"Did you enjoy dancing?"
"Yes, my sir, it was very nice"
"And was it comfortable?"
"It was a bit uncomfortable, Sir."
"No one knew, did they?"
"Sir, they did not."
"Very well, let's go home."

She crawls obediently into the cab of his pickup.  The climb into it makes
her whimper and grimace. With a quick slap to her butt, he climbs in.

"Sit here, on the console." A better reminder he decides, than the soft
plush of the other seat.She sits gingerly, her ass still sore from the
discipline earlier.  She had not meant to argue about the plug, he just
caught her off guard and the hesitation had cost her.

Once inside, he leads her to the couch, and gently helps her to sit. 
Sitting doesn't come easy, but he soon stretches out her legs, and slowly
unties the laces of her boots.  He massages her ankles as he pulls the
laces completely out of her boots.

"Look, how convenient..one for your feet and one for your hands."  

With one hand, he reaches for her head, and while kissing her deeply,
slowly unbuttons her shirt. His fingers caress the soft skin of her bosom.
 He presses hard towards the nipples, applying pressure in the ever
increasing vise of his fingertips.  Her shirt gets pushed back over her
shoulders and off, quickly and efficiently.  He lingers at the sight of
her breasts before abruptly pulling her to her feet.  

"Get the rest of this stuff off, slowly...."  

His voice started out tough, and yet, the last word or two linger in the
air, as if he is
remembering how much he had enjoyed the planning.

As the jeans slip down her thighs, what was hidden except to him comes
fully into view. A simple yet effective harness, tied to her waist and a
leather cord buried deep in her ass, and wedged tightly in her cunt. 
Attached to the leather bindings were several strategically placed small
loops. One loop secures a butt plug deep in her ass.  Dancing had been an
supreme experiment in control.  Sitting had been a misery.


He pulls her hands over her head, and ties them with the a cord.  He let
her hands drop forward.  Her tied arms obstructed his view of her breasts.
 So he pulled on the cord and led her to the doorway, where he anchors her
hands above her head and then slowly  removes the intrusion from her ass. 


His hands run all over every inch of her, paying special attention to
those areas she's been instructed about..her flat stomach and well groomed
cunt.  He spends close moments examining her carefully. He bent to place
her heels on her feet.  The black high heels felt so light and unbalanced
after her boots.  The lines on her stockings were crooked, so he
straighten them slowly, looking up into her pussy and smiling at the
results of the leather intrusion.  He fingers her cunt, playing and
tugging with her lips, daring her clit.  It doesn't take long until she is
begging, pleading, and then cumming.

He walks away and leaves her there, hanging, with a wet cunt and high
heals and garter.  All dressed up, no place to go.

>From another room, she hears music.  Not the country swing of the bar. 
Jazz, a blues song, hot and heavy.  And from behind her, a voice...

"Wanna dance for me?  Dance for me good, hear?  Or you don't cum."

And with that he unties her hands, and massages the wrists.  He leads her
into another room,  one chair and a table in front of it.  A low table,
the top even with the seat of the chair.  And a light is trained on it,
spotlighting the area of the table.  Everything else in the room is dark,
hidden.  He takes his seat in the chair, and reaches to the other side of
the chair to produce his riding crop.  It might come in handy.  She stands
anxiously by, and with some hesitation , crawls onto the table.  Finally,
she is standing on the table, and the music gets louder.

She wants to look at her master, but doesn't.  She focuses on a spot on
the wall and begins to sway with the music.  Within seconds, her body is
grinding down and her  high heals click on the table as she tries to
concentrate on the dancing while her body fights to concentrate elsewhere.

The sting of the crop is quick, and full of focus.  She reaches with her
hands to cradle her breasts, rub her tits and hold them in offering to
him.  Sub is dancing for him, she must stay focused.  Every movement of
sub's body is for the Sir, for his pleasure, for his delight. Her knees
fall apart as her pelvis rocks in time to the slow rhythm.  Her cunt is
glistening wet, and he can see her cunt lubricating the leather strap that
invades her.  He can tell that in order to move for him to see her cunt,
that her hips roll forward, squeezing the strap in that tight ass he
admires, and disciplines.

His eyes flicker over her, steadying their gaze at her cunt, and her tits.
 She is struggling to stem the tide of her longings.  He can tell that she
could cum at any moment he gave the command.  He is going to make her
wait.  

As the music dies, he rises and urges her to her knees.  He sternly wraps
her hands behind her back, securing them hand to elbow.  He cradles her
chin in his hand and lifts it towards the ceiling.

"Thirsty, my dear?"

He lifts a cold beer bottle to her mouth and pours the backwash of his
beer down her throat.  He starts slipping the bottle farther and farther
into her mouth, making her take that cold, hard bottle as she is about to
take His cock.

He arranges her on the table, and begins to feed her His cock.  He
forcefully uses her mouth, watching in delight as she struggles to please
Him.  Her eyes are shut tightly, as she concentrates on His cock thrusting
in and out of her mouth.  He goes deeper and deeper into her throat,
sensing the submission, the acceptance.  And cums, deep in her throat.

He reaches down to her, and works her clit between his thumb andfinger,
rolling it and pinching it.  She is struggling under his weight, and soft
whispery moans are begging to him, please, to let her cum.  As he smiles
his permission, his sub's body is racked with an all consuming fire.  She
screams out her torment and her body shakes with the strength of her
orgasm.  As she settles and takes a deep breath, he craddles her, and
lifts her up off the table.  They sway to the blues as he leads her gently
back to the couch.  He pulls her down to him and enfolds her in his warm
embrace, soothing her to a gentle, dreamfilled sleep.

"Sleep well, princess" he softly speaks.  "For in the morning we fuck," he
thinks, as he grins like the devil himself.


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