Page 20 of Dirty Cowboys
Indie
My followers have been loving the ranch content, especially the behind-the-scenes shots of the cattle branding. My post engagement has been through the roof since I moved here. I slip on my boots, the ones that are finally feeling worn in, ready to head out. It’s under the guise of getting content, but I know I’m really looking for them.
My heart is already racing, and I haven’t even made it to the back paddock yet. Every night for the past week, I’ve taken this same route, hoping, waiting, and wondering if they’ll come for me again. I follow the path, my phone’s flashlight illuminating the ground ahead. The silence here is different from that in thecity. No traffic, no sirens, no neighbors arguing through thin walls. There’s only the rustle of the wind through the grass and the distant lowing of cattle.
As I reach the spot where they usually appear, I pause, scanning the trees. Nothing yet, so I continue my walk along the fence line. The wooden posts are old but still sturdy, and I run my fingers along the rough wood as I walk.
That’s when I hear horses in the distance, and I spin toward the sound. Three glowing masks emerge from beyond the trees, faster than they have before. There’s something different about their movements tonight, something more intense in the way they are coming toward me.
I don’t wait to see what they have planned. Every instinct tells me to run. Spinning, I sprint back toward the house, while behind me the pounding of hooves draws closer. They’re not giving me the head start they usually do.
I veer left, leaving the straight path back to the house. Maybe I can lose them in the tall grass. As soon as I change direction, one of them appears in my peripheral vision, cutting off my escape route. I change direction, my heart hammering against my ribs.
They’re herding me, controlling where I go, forcing me where they want me. The thought should terrify me, but instead it plays into my fantasies. I trust them—well, as much as you can trust a stranger in a mask whose end goal is to fuck you.
I stumble over a hole in the ground, catching myself before I fall, which would not be sexy at all. Those few seconds are all they need, and suddenly my legs are caught in the lasso, sending me headfirst to the ground.
The grass is thankfully soft beneath me, but I’m completely tangled in the rope. When I try to scramble to my feet, it tightens around my ankles, and I go down again.
“Look what we caught.”
I crane my head up to see all three of them have dismounted—a word Wyatt taught me the other day—and are standing over me.
“Please,” I whisper, but I’m not sure exactly why I’m saying it.
One of them kneels beside me, his hands untangling the rope from my legs. Then instead of freeing me, he wraps it around my wrists, binding them in front of me.
“You ran well tonight, but not well enough.”
“What are you going to do with me?” I ask, wanting to really play into the fantasy.
“Whatever we want,”comes from another masked man.“You’re ours to use.”
The third man, the one who hasn’t spoken yet,moves in closer. He kneels beside me, then asks,“Are you scared?”
“Yes,” I answer. “But not in the way you think.”
He tilts his head, and I wish I could see who it is.“How, then?”
“I’m scared of how much I want this,” I confess. “I fear what that makes me.”
“It makes you honest,”he says, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face.“And it makes you human.”
The words send a shiver through me. How funny that I finally find what I’m looking for, and yet they still seem out of reach, hiding who they are.
“Stand up,”one of them commands, and a large hand reaches down to help me to my feet, pulling me up easily by my bound wrists.
I sway a bit, my legs still shaky from the chase. “Where are we going?” I ask as they lead me away from the spot where they caught me.
“Somewhere private,”one replies.“Somewhere we can take our time with you.”
The masked men mount their horses and direct them forward, causing me to jog behind them attached by the rope.
“You run so pretty, little slut. I bet your pussy’s dripping already.”
I have to keep pace, otherwise I’ll end up beingdragged wherever they are taking me. The rope bites into my skin every time I fall behind.
They take me to a big metal shed that looks a lot newer than the other structures I have seen on the property, and this one is full of huge tractors, most with tires taller than me. They all jump down and leave their horses, though I wonder why they don’t tie them up. Wouldn’t they just wander away if left alone?
