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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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Barscene: Texas Bondage Story
by TXPleasure (txpleasure@aol.com)

***

He lifts a cold beer bottle to her mouth and pours it 
down her throat, forcing the bottle through her lips. 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... (Mdom/F, reluc, bd)

***

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 lace-ups 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 its 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 around to learn each 
other's moves, then finally say hello to each other. 
Onlookers see the next bit of conversation as cozy, 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 wannabe'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 heels 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 heels 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 and finger, 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 cradled 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, dream filled 
sleep.

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

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 67