Page 8 of Dirty Cowboys (Masked Men #7)

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 the city.

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 being dragged 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?

“I want her naked,” one man demands.

Another walks over to me and tears my shirt from my body, buttons from the flannel scattering around me. He lifts me as if I’m weightless and shoves my back against the side of a tractor, the metal biting into my skin. My bound wrists are pulled over my head and tied to something above me.

He steps up closer, my top half exposed to him, then pulls out a hunting knife and trails the tip of the blade between my breasts. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

He brings the blade down, over my jeans, and presses it to the seam in front of my pussy.

My heart thunders in my chest knowing one wrong move could easily cut through the fabric.

His free hand removes my phone and he hands it to one of the other men.

My first instinct is to beg for it back, but I suck my lips into my mouth and remain still out of fear of being cut.

“You look like a work of art. A filthy, used- up little fuck hole ,” the man with the dirty mouth says.

I have noticed he likes to call me names more than the others, and I crave it from him.

He comes closer and holds my phone up to my bound hands, using my thumb to unlock it.

He steps back, and the flash goes off as he takes a picture.

Wetness pools between my thighs. I need someone to touch me, but just as the thought crosses my mind, the handle of the knife is pressed hard through my jeans.

“Smile, your followers are gonna love seeing what a real whore looks like.”

I whimper from the pleasure on my clit, but also from the fear of knowing that with one click of a button, he could end my career.

The man in front of me stops circling my clit. In the blink of an eye, he has sliced through my jeans on one side. I gasp, but he ignores me and slices down the other side, then drops the knife and rips the remaining parts of my jeans and underwear away.

My arms ache from being tethered above my head, the rope biting into my wrists. Exposed here, naked in front of them, I should feel vulnerable and humiliated. Instead, I feel empowered, wanted, and in control.

The man standing to the side watching moves a little closer. “Mark her.”

The man who has been in control so far, grabs my hip and pulls my body into his, his other hand wrapping loosely around my throat almost as if he’s contemplating his next move.

His hands fall from my body, then he picks up the loose rope beside me and loops it around my neck.

He pauses long enough for me to object, but I simply smirk at him so he knows I want this as much as he does.

“You like this?” he growls robotically, if that is even possible. “I knew you’d enjoy being roughed up and used until you can’t take any more.”

“Please,” I whimper.

He flips my body around and kicks out my legs, while keeping a good grip on the rope around my neck.

I hear him pull down his zipper, and his jeans fall to the ground with a clunk.

He pulls the rope tighter, cutting off a lot of my air as he steps up behind me.

Then with no warning his cock is at my entrance, and he thrusts deep inside me.

“FUCK!” I choke out.

Tears roll down my face as the pain registers. It is almost too much, but my body loves every second. Wetness slides down my legs, and the sound of him fucking me echoes around the shed.

“You see that? She’s dripping just from getting used like a hole.”

He pounds into my body relentlessly, my head hitting against the large tire in front of me. I almost see stars from lack of oxygen.

“Flip her around. I want to see her face when she comes around your cock.”

The masked man loosens the rope, letting it fall around my neck as he slides out of me, flipping me back around.

“Get behind her. I want your fingers buried in her ass.”

A second man moves in behind me, his hand sliding between my legs and swiping my juices onto his fingers. “You’re so wet from being fucked, I don’t even need lube. What a good little fuck hole—your body was made to be used.”

He pushes his fingers into my ass, wrapping his other arm around my waist and lifting me to the right height.

The first masked man moves back into place, his hard cock covered in my arousal. The sight makes my chest warm. He positions himself, hooking one of my legs around his arm, and thrusts back inside me.

“ Oh fuck, oh fuck. Please, I need more ,” I beg when neither of them moves.

“You love being used, don’t you? One hole’s not enough for a slut like you.”

“Yes! Please! I need to come so badly.”

My entire being is on the brink of a life-shattering orgasm. It’s hanging just out of reach, and I’m about to tip over the edge.

They both move, finding a rhythm. With my leg hooked over his arm, the man in front uses his other to capture my jaw.

I wonder why, but he forces me to watch as the third man—who has gotten a ladder—brings it closer to us.

He positions it next to us and climbs slowly, flicking his belt undone.

I watch him unbuckle his jeans and pull out his already hard cock as the man behind me twists his free hand in my hair and pushes my head forward.

I open my mouth and wrap my lips around him, then the man behind me pulls my head back slightly and pushes it forward. Within seconds, spit pools in my mouth and drips down my chin.

“That’s it, just like that. Good fucking girl. Look at how messy you get for me.”

Everyone moves together in unison, and my body is pushed to its absolute limit. My arms burn, my mouth is stretched, my pussy clamps tight, and my ass wants more. Thankfully, he adds another finger, and I moan a muffled sound of gratitude.

The man in my mouth pulls back, and I gasp for air, dragging as much into my lungs as I can. “That’s it, deep breaths. I’ve got you. You were made to be fucked just like this.”

That’s the only break I get before he is back in my mouth, fucking my throat. Within minutes his cock swells wider, and he comes, his hips jerking. I gag once, but don’t pull back. I take it, swallowing what I can, while the rest coats my tongue and lips as he shudders.

“Spit it into my hand ,” the man behind me demands, and I let what is left of the cum slide from my mouth into his waiting palm.

“Good fucking girl,” the man on the ladder praises.

Then fingers are teasing me, adding to the sensations. “You feel that? That’s his cum all over your pretty little clit. You love being coated in it, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I cry out hoarsely as he circles my clit and the man in front of me changes angles.

His movements get harder, slamming deeper and more brutal, making my body smash into the man behind me, and the fingers on my clit get faster. I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.

My orgasm peaks fast—too fast—as my vision blurs, and my body burns.

My throat is raw from screaming. I don’t know how, but I feel the man in front of me let go, his thrusts slow, and my world shatters around me.

Everything folds in on itself, and intense pressure bursts behind my eyes. It’s so much—too much.

My world fades to black.

When I wake, everything hurts, but I’m no longer tied up. I wonder how long I was unconscious. I giggle at the thought of passing out during sex; it is not something I have ever experienced before tonight.

I’m cradled against a broad chest, his heartbeat thumping beneath my ear as a hand strokes my head.

Then there are fingers pressing against my entrance, sliding inside my wrecked and used body.

“You did so well. You took everything like the good girl you are.”

I whimper as he gently slides his fingers deeper inside me.

“You can’t waste a single drop, now that I’ve claimed your perfect little cunt.”

He spends some time holding me and telling me how perfect I am before I once again drift off in his arms.

Small-Town Confessions - Part Five

Posted by Indie’s Inner Thoughts

Hey,

I am writing this at 4 a.m. because I literally cannot sleep. My body is still sore, and the bruises have started to form. I can’t stop staring at them.

I don’t even know how to put this into words, but every single fantasy I’ve ever dreamed about came true tonight.

I always wondered if I was asking too much. Were my needs too intense, too dirty, or too much for any real person to handle? But these men, holy fuck, they didn’t just meet my expectations—they shattered them completely.

If I were to die tomorrow, I’d go happily, knowing that somewhere in this world there are people who understand exactly what I need and have given that to me.

I passed out. Literally passed out from pleasure. I didn’t even know that was possible outside of romance novels, but apparently my body has limits I never knew existed.

I feel like a new woman, like the person who walked out there tonight was different to the one writing this now.

Thank you, universe—for leading me exactly where I needed to be.

Stay spicy (and thoroughly wrecked),

Indie xoxo