Mountaintop
by Peter Loaf
inspired by the photos of Cowgirl from Hogtied.com
- do not use without the author's permission.
The waking woody, glistening tip
His dreams erotic, pre-coital drip
I take his member, my loving grip
Desire blooming, ready to rip
Today, Bobby woke up with a woody. From the way he’d been tossing and turning for the last few minutes I knew he’d been having an erotic dream, again. I tried to take care of it right then and there but he chuckled and told me to get up and fix us some breakfast.
“You’ll get your chance, Mia, we’ve got all day.” He said, going into the toilet to take a piss.
I was standing at the stove, frying some bacon and eggs when he entered the kitchen, now dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. I glanced at him and my tummy did a flip-flop. He had that special look in his eyes that I have learned to both fear and love. That predatory, feral look that makes my juices gush.
Still naked, I felt my sex swelling between my thighs. I knew without looking that if I weren’t dripping yet, I soon would be.
He walked up behind me and cradled my breasts in his big hands, blowing his hot breath on the nape of my neck as his thumbs and forefingers rolled my already hard nipples gently back and forth. “Feel like going up the mountain today?” he asked, squeezing my breasts and nuzzling my blushing ear.
I said nothing but pressed my bottom back against him, reveling in the fact that he was still sporting his woody.
He chuckled deep in his throat and said, “That’s what I love about you, forever horny.”
I shut off the burners and turned around to face him. I took him into my arms and hugged him fiercely, saying nothing because words just do not have the power to convey the way I feel about him.
He hugged me back, then said, “Lets eat, I have something special planned.”
When breakfast was over he told me to go put on my hiking boots and nothing else. As I was doing that he went to the tack closet and got out a coil of rope and the harness gag. Soon my arms were lashed tight up in the middle of my back and the huge red rubber gag was strapped into my mouth.
When he led me out the door I discovered the weather to be one of those patented Southern California hazy mornings that I knew would take until noon to clear away. I was glad of that because that haze was the only protection my fair skin was going to have from the summer sun.
Besides, without that haze anyone in the valley with a pair of binoculars would have a clear view of my naked body. While it is true that I’ve always been an exhibitionist, standing bound and naked before ten thousand strangers is not my idea of fun.
Well, maybe just a little.
He took only a few seconds to tie me to the pony cart, then took a seat behind me. Smacking my bottom with his flogger he said. “Git up, Mia, you know the way.”
My Master’s pony, pulling the load
Naked in bondage, the rocky road
His flogger smacking, the seed is sowed
Breathing restricted, the pony blowed
Sometimes when Bobby hitches me up to his pony cart I want to fight him. But of course I am too well broken to do that. Its not fear, exactly, but something even more powerful. I think it is love. Bobby is my Master and I am his pony girl slave. That might seem strange to you if you’ve never experienced the SM relationship but to me it is what defines us. Life is so simple, he commands and I obey.
The trail that leads up the mountain from the back of our place is steep and rocky. I was glad he’d let me wear my boots today. Sometimes, when he is upset with something I have done, he has me do it barefoot. Today he is not upset. Today he is simply horny. I like him horny. I wonder what he has planned but of course have no way of asking.
Top of the mountain, a bench to rest
Bottom cheeks burning, doing my best
Arms bound behind me, my passion quest
The mountain topping, reaching the crest
When the trail gets steep I lean into the traces and dig in with my toes. He encourages me with the flogger, turning my ass crimson and making my wide-on grow even juicier. I struggle to get enough air around the ball, wishing he’d used the ring gag instead. But ponies don’t get to choose their tack, just as ponies don’t decide where to go.
Bobby’s bondage, as ever, is tight and inescapable. Today my entire upper body is enmeshed in winds of cinched hemp, restricting my every breath so that my head spins with my need for air. My breasts are squeezed, making my nipples stick out, aching with my need for his touch. My sex, now swollen and dripping with fuck me froth feels as empty as a soldier’s sleeve. If it were not for the traces I would jump him and ride him like a bronco, so horny I have become. His flogger keeps me going, driving me to the top of more than this mountain.
Helpless and horny, straining I climb
Flogger smack driving, dropping my dime
My passion flower, dripping my slime
Pony girl pleasure, passion in prime
It is hard to explain how all this rough treatment makes me so horny. I guess you could say that I am just a pain slut but there is more to it than that. Or at least I think there is. When Bobby does these things to me I know that it isn’t just my pain that he is after. It is my passion, my unrestrained, uninhibited, unreserved passion that only comes when he has conquered me completely.
Pussy rope cutting, top of the hill
Clitty so tender, been through the mill
Panting in passion, my Master’s will
Ready for riding, my needs fulfill
The last rope he tied on me was the nastiest. It leads down from my wrists in back, through between my bottom checks, up through my swollen sex, over the rope around my waist and back between my legs to his hand. When he pulls on it the prickly hemp cuts up into my groin, mashing my erect clit against my hipbone. He calls it my brake.
When we finally reach the bench at the top of the mountain he hauls on it, nearly setting off my first orgasm of the day. Bobby is an expert at almost setting me off. He is also an expert at keeping me on the edge, needing release but not quite able to achieve it.
He dismounts and comes to stand behind me, his hands reaching around to cradle my aching, heaving breasts once again. I again press myself back against him, reassuring myself that my reward is still rock hard and potent in his pocket.
Mountaintop Master, pony girl tied
The valley below, I cannot hide
The cooze rope cutting, pulling inside
Legs spread and open, nothing denied
He unties me from the pony cart and leads me over to the lookout bench. I sit down, glad for the chance to catch my breath, and watch as he ties my ankles out to the iron supports at each end. Soon I am a fixture, naked and completely exposed on top of the mountain. I think about how many people live down there, how many eyes, how many telescopes. I feel my pussy gushing my passion all over the rope, my body sweating in the cool misty air. I know my Master will allow no harm to come to me but the thought of thousands of men watching me makes me so horny that I break my silence and mew around my gag in frustrated desire.
He comes up behind me and caresses my sweaty flanks, as if teasing the unseen watchers below. He presses his hard cock into my back, reminding me of how all this will eventually end. He reaches down between my legs and massages the prickly hemp into my clitoris, forcing a gasp and another near orgasm out of me.
Pussy rope cinching, wiggle and strain
My nubbin pinching, delicious pain
High hot and horny, my fevered brain
Pony girl lessons, submissive train
He left me like that for twenty minutes, long enough that I began to wonder if I should bring myself off. The cooze rope was rigged so that I could hump myself against it, driving my body over the edge. I was very close to doing it, despite the sure knowledge that it would be better for both of us if I waited. I knew from experience that the essence of my Master’s technique was to build up pressure within the both of us then finally allow that pressure to carry us away together on a flood of passion that was the nearest thing I’ve ever experienced to dying. I decided to hang on, knowing the reward would be worth the wait
Pony girl passion, bound to the bench
Pussy lips gripping, the hilltop wench
High hot and horny, the monkey wrench
Mewing desire, pussy rope drench
He let me stew like that for what seemed like another hour. Whenever my interest would lag he would come to me and stoke up my boiler with caresses, spanks, tickles and pinches.
The traffic passing, the road below
Truckers and bikers, the passing show
A copper cruising, both to and fro
Sitting so helpless, passion to know
In the end he only had to untie one rope. Once the cooze rope was loosened and pulled out of me it was a simple thing to lift me up and slide himself in beneath me so that I was sitting on his lap. Then, using my tightly bound breasts as handles, he bounced me up and down on his purple capped barber pole until our world seemed to explode into a starburst of shared passion made all the sweeter by the danger of discovery.