Page 4 of Dirty Cowboys (Masked Men #7)

Indie

I wake up to the sound of my phone buzzing with notifications. I’m still in shock about what happened last night. Someone is reading my blog. Though a part of me wonders if I dreamed the whole thing.

I reach for my phone, expecting the usual Instagram likes and comments, but there’s something different... a notification from my private blog. Someone has commented on my latest post.

Username: RoughRider

If you consent to being chased again, your safe word is “mercy.” Use it, and everything stops immediately. Tonight, same place, same time .

My breath catches in my throat. Holy fuck—they found my blog.

Someone actually found it. And they’re asking for consent, which makes this even hotter somehow.

They’ve thought about my safety, about giving me control even in a fantasy about relinquishing it.

Why did I have to move halfway across the country to have someone find me and want to indulge my fantasies in a safe way?

I read the comment three more times, my pulse hammering. RoughRider must be one of them , right? How many men were in the bar that night and could have overheard me talking to Marge?

My fingers hover over the keyboard. Do I respond, or just show up tonight?

Every rational part of my brain screams that this is insane—I barely know these men, and this could go wrong in a million different ways. Except this is what I want—to be chased by strangers, manhandled. I want something more.

The rest of the day drags. I try to focus on content, editing photos from the rodeo, and responding to comments, but I can’t concentrate.

I spend an hour picking out what to wear, which is ridiculous because it’s not like we’re going on a date. Still, I want to look good while I’m being chased. I settle on my dark jeans, a black tank top, and my boots.

By six o’clock, I’m pacing around the farmhouse like a fox locked out of a henhouse.

The sun still has not set, and I need the darkness.

The daylight seems too personal, while the darkness conceals my lingering thoughts.

I forgo dinner, as my stomach is in knots.

Instead, I pour myself a glass of vodka and sit on the porch, watching the sun as it sets and snapping pictures.

I can see the appeal; it’s serene. Growing old and watching the sunset together with someone would be perfect.

Finally, darkness creeps over the paddocks.

The stars are visible in the sky; they are so bright here, like nothing I have seen before.

It’s almost magical. I grab my phone and head toward the back of the property, following the same path I took last night.

I keep glancing over my shoulder, and the anticipation has me ready to run at a moment’s notice.

I’m a bundle of nerves—anxious and scared and excited—because I have been dreaming of this moment for such a long time, never thinking it would become a reality.

I once told an ex I wanted to rough our sex life up a little.

His idea was wrapping his hand around my throat, and while that has its merits, it’s not the version I wanted. And don’t get me started on dirty talk.

I reach the spot where they first appeared and pause, turning in a slow circle. Then I focus on the direction they came from last time, waiting and wondering what they have in store for me tonight .

The first mask appears near the tree line, then another off to my right. Finally, the third completes the triangle just like last night, but this time, something’s different. As they move toward me, I can just make out one of them carrying something.

A rope.

My knees nearly buckle. Holy fuck, they’re really going to do this! They’re going to rope me like cattle.

Wetness soaks my panties, and I could combust from the mere thought of what is about to happen. My nipples harden beneath the soft material of the bralette I am wearing tonight. It’s not great to run in, but sexy as hell.

The one with the rope swings it in slow circles above his head.

I take a step back, then another.

They move faster tonight, as they know I want it.

When the masked man with the rope is about fifty feet away, he lets go of the loop, and it sails through the air toward me.

I watch in awe. It doesn’t hit me; I don’t think it was supposed to. But it lands close enough that I can see exactly how skilled he is with that rope.

And now it’s time to run.

This time I don’t head for the house. Instead, I veer left, trying to stop them from trapping me between them—except they’re ready for me. Of course they are; this is what they do. One five-foot-six woman is no challenge for them when they wrangle herds of cattle every day.

One of them uses his horse to cut me off, blocking my path and causing me to spin.

Another is there, moving me back toward where we came from. They’re controlling exactly where I go.

The one with the rope swings it again, and this time it drops over one of my shoulders. But as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again.

My legs almost give out, and arousal blazes through me. This is everything I wrote about, but so much more intense than I ever imagined. It’s also unexpectedly exhausting. Who knew how unfit I really was? I exercise, but this is not what I’m used to—this is no uptown yoga studio.

They herd me in a wide circle, taking their time, letting me tire. Every time I try to break free, one of them is there to move me back where they want.

The rope flies toward me again, and this time it drops over my head and tightens around my waist. I’m pulled backward, and I collapse onto the ground.

My breathing is ragged, partly from running, but also from all the emotions shooting through me.

I can feel how wet I am, how badly I want them to touch my sensitive skin with their calloused hands.

The masked man jumps down from his horse and jerks the rope. He forces me to my feet, and he stands there, twisting the rope tighter around his hand. The other two masked men stay on their horses and watch.

“We knew you would run, you dirty little tease. You wanted to get caught, like the needy little whore you are. You’re nothing more than a tight little hole for us to use. Tell me you’re a fuck-hungry little toy or I will drag you through the dirt and make you beg for it.”

The distortion of the voice makes me momentarily disappointed that I won’t be able to figure out who it is, but then the words themselves sink in and practically scramble my brain.

When I just stare at him wide-eyed, he pulls the rope hard enough that I drop to my knees. He moves closer so the crotch of his jeans is in line with my face, and I crane my head back to look up.

“Say it,” he demands.

“I’m your fuck-hungry little toy. I’m just a hole for you to use. Please, I need...”

“What do you need?” I divert my attention to the man who just spoke as he slides off his horse.

“Good little toys get rewarded. Naughty toys?” He tugs the rope tighter, letting it bite just under my ribs. I wonder what their punishment would be, and if it would even be a punishment. The one with the rope drags my attention back to him before I even have to ask .

“They get fucked face down in the dirt with their pussy dripping, while begging to be used like the worthless cum dumpsters they are. Which one are you? My good toy or the filthy little slut who needs to be broken in front of the others?”

“The . . . the filthy slut,” I whisper.

The rope tightens around my waist, yanking me up with so much force I gasp. My boots drag across the dirt as he hauls me against him, his chest heaving, and his masked face presses against the side of my head.

“You want to be a filthy little slut? Good, I’m about to teach you just how much of a good little whore you really are,” he growls.

I barely have time to whimper before he stuffs something into my mouth, my lips stretch around the fabric, and he ties the rope around my mouth. I can’t speak. Can’t beg. I can breathe only through my nose.

“Good little toys don’t make noise. They take what they are given.”

The rope is pulled tight between my lips like a bit, looping it once more for control. He then fists it in one hand and forces me down onto all fours.

“Face down,” he says, yanking the rope to angle my head down as he towers behind me. “A promise is a promise. I told you I’d fuck you into the ground.”

“Tap your hand on the ground three times if you are done. That will always be your back-up safe word. ”

My arms tremble as I glance up at the second man standing in front of me, the one who just spoke. The third is still on a horse, watching.

The man behind me roughly pulls back on the rope, my mouth aching as pleasure shoots between my legs. I’m so wet I’ve soaked through my thong and can feel it saturating the denim between my thighs.

“Nod so he knows you understand what he is saying.”

Looking up, I do as the man behind me asks and nod at the man in front of me, who nods back.

“Before we fuck you raw, tell us, are you on birth control?”

“Yes,” I whisper around the rope. “IUD. And I’m clean.”

“Good girl. You want us bare inside you?”

I nod frantically.

“That’s our dirty little slut. You want to feel our cum filling you up.”

My legs are kicked open wider, and my jeans are roughly dragged down over my ass, far enough I feel air hit the back of my pussy. I whimper, helpless and bared to them with rope biting into my mouth.

“This pretty little cunt is fucking dripping. What a good little fuck toy.” His hand presses between my shoulder blades, pushing me lower, so my top half is pressed to the ground, but my ass is high in the air. “ Now, you’ll take every inch like the filthy little whore you are.”

Then he thrusts into me—hard. A muffled cry rips from my throat through the bandanna as my body jerks forward from the force.

The small rocks beneath me dig into my body as he grabs my hips and pounds into me with no mercy, using me for his own pleasure.

The rope pulls tight as he uses it to guide me where he wants me, dragging my head up as he starts his dirty talk again.

“Look at you,” he snarls. “Drooling around my rope. Taking my cock like a trained little fuck toy. You love being used, don’t you?” He thrusts again, harder and deeper.

“We should keep you like this,” the man in front of me says. “On all fours. Your pussy soaking and needy. Waiting to be bred and broken.”

If only that were an option. My body shivers as my orgasm smashes through me at the thought of being owned by someone, used for their pleasure, and cared for after.

“Look at them watching you. Let them see how easy you are to own. Our little slut, fucked raw in the dirt.”

With one last punishing thrust, he finishes inside me, then leans over to loosen the rope and pull it from my head.

I push the bandanna from my mouth with my tongue, tug my jeans up, and collapse back down into the dirt, curling in on myself. Tears stream down my face as everything that just happened hits me like a ton of bricks. Closing my eyes, I wait for them to leave so I can cry alone.

Shock washes over me as I’m lifted into strong arms and passed to someone. I keep my eyes closed and curl into the man’s body, his arm wrapping around me.

“Everything will be okay,” he says.

The voice distorter is still on, and I’m relieved. I want to keep this anonymous. It’s best for my soft, romantic heart. I can’t go falling for cowboys I can never have.

The masked man carries me all the way back to the house and onto the porch, then sits me down on the swing before retreating.

I watch as he climbs back up on his horse and takes off, disappearing between the trees.

Standing on wobbly legs, I walk inside, every muscle in my body sore.

I know this is what I like, even if I had a mini emotional breakdown afterwards.

I walk over to the couch where I left my laptop and open my blog while it’s all fresh in my mind.

Small-Town Confessions - Part Three

Posted by Indie’s Inner Thoughts

Hey ,

I can barely type this because my entire body is sore. They came for me again tonight. And this time they brought a rope.

Holy fuck, one of them used it to control me, and I felt so helpless. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

I’m too tired and sore to dive into the details tonight—and maybe a little selfish for wanting to keep them to myself.

Just know that if you want to try something new, go for it. What’s stopping you?

I only hope I get a chance to do it again one day. Maybe these cowboys can unlock some new kinks for me.

Stay spicy,

Indie xoxo