Cowboy Sandwich (9 page)

Reece Butler

“I’d eat before I said something like that if I was you,” said Johnny with a snicker. “Might end up with hot pepper flakes all over your plate.”

“Nah,” replied Bryan, washing in the sink. “She knows I’m playing around.”

“You’re always playing around,” said Adam, entering the room.

Cold air looked good on him. He rolled up his sleeves, watching her.

Suddenly her chest felt tight, like there wasn’t enough air in the room.

She picked up the basket and bent over to set it on the table. Large wet hands captured her breasts from behind.

“What are you doing?” She jabbed both elbows back and Bryan let loose with an ‘oomph’.

“Just staking my claim, woman,” he replied. “I drove the whole way while you two…” he flicked his eyes at the old man sniggering in the far chair, “…snored.”

“I don’t snore,” declared Candy.

“Nah, it’s more of a cute little snuffle,” said Adam. “And then you sigh and snuggle up, that sweet bottom right up against my…”

“Hush!” Face heating, she shot a warning glance, tilting her head at Johnny.

“Don’t mind me, I wasn’t born yesterday,” said the old man. He winked and picked up his fork. “You can do what you like long as you don’t mess with the bunkhouse.” He blew on a forkful of stew.

“Be good to have a woman around.”

“I’m just here for a few weeks.”

Johnny looked from Adam to Bryan, then Candy. “Uh huh. Sure you are.”

In between good-natured bantering, the men talked about what had gone on at the ranch during the few days they’d been away.

Candy listened to them natter, just like Sue’s family when the two of them were children. She took a deep breath, held it for as long as she could and relaxed.

She was finally home. But how long could she stay?

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A month later Adam and Bryan cleaned tack after a long day in the saddle.

“What’ve we got in the toy?” Adam scrubbed the bit and rinsed it under running water.

“Remember last Sunday when you two slept in?” Bryan, farther ahead in his chores, hung up the bridle to dry and placed his saddle back on the rack.

“Yeah. Only we didn’t do a whole lot of sleeping.”

Bryan leaned against a square post and ignored the jibe. “While you two went at it like rabbits, I set up that silk tent we ordered. The room’s ready to go, complete with pillows, a few items of the proper height and lots of restraints. Since I did the work, I’m Sultan Bryan.

You can be the Chief Eunuch.”

“Impossible,” Adam snorted. “I’m fully equipped.”

“Huh. After years of cutting weaner cattle, I can remove your oysters with a flick of the wrist.” Bryan laughed at Adam’s grimace.

“Okay, you can be the Sultan,” said Adam, “but I’m the visiting Viceroy. As guest, I get to take the unwilling slave girl first.”

Bryan stewed on that for a moment. “But my new slave girl is so disobedient I’m reluctant to share her as it may insult my guest.”

“So we subdue her together, and show her the proper respect due the men of this land.”

“Deal. But you have to get her there.”

His chores done, Bryan shrugged into his coat and headed for a shower, leaving Adam to figure out how to get Candy to agree. Adam
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decided agreement wasn’t the best way to go. Kidnapping would get her fighting mad, perfect for her role.

He’d take her upstairs after supper while Bryan cleaned up the kitchen. Carry her into the shower, have his wicked way with her then wrap her in a towel, throw her over his shoulder and haul her to the tent room. He settled his growing erection to better fit his jeans. If he didn’t take her once before they played, he’d never be able to delay enough to torture her with pleasure.

He smirked at the idea of Bryan washing dishes while he soaped Candy’s sweet bottom.

* * * *

“Put me down!”

Adam mentally patted himself on the back for using giant bath sheets. It made it so much easier to keep the small woman hanging over his shoulder from kicking and flailing. However, it didn’t stop her mouth.

“What are you doing? Adam, this isn’t funny.”

“Hold the slave’s head still so I can slip on the blindfold.” Bryan ignored Candy’s yells and head-butt attempts, making sure she could see nothing around the snug black mask. Since Adam’s hands were full with Candy, Bryan smacked Adam’s naked butt as he passed. He ignored Adams’s growls of revenge while he unlocked the door and flipped on the lights.

Adam made sure Candy didn’t knock herself on the way through the door then set her feet on the carpet. Bryan attached fur-lined Velcro ankle restraints and snapped them to a heavy bar, her legs wide, before Adam unwrapped his noisy parcel. A set of wrist restraints attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling held her hands at breast height.

No sign of Montana existed in the room. A multi-colored silk tent swooped to a center point from which hung the chain. A large padded
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platform on one side resembled a lounging throne. A leather pommel horse waited at one side, the top level with Candy’s hips. Large pillows in rainbow colors rested on the carpet. Somewhere Bryan had found lava lamps to provide safe, candle-bright illumination.

Adam nodded in appreciation and the two of them left the room, closing the door on the woman’s howls of outrage.

“We’ve got about ten minutes to change before she’s really pissed,” said Bryan. He unlocked the door of the room they called their ‘toybox’ and pointed to the table.

“Yellow?” Adam raised an eyebrow in derision.

“What’s the matter with yellow?” said Bryan, clothes flying as he stripped. He put on silky blue-green pantaloons and vest, curled-toe slippers and a matching turban. At the front glistened a huge paste diamond, one which would make the Koh-i-noor look small.

Muttering, Adama slipped on snug calf-length pants of stretchy cloth in brilliant yellow. The scimitar, complete with belt and scabbard, more than made up for the outfit’s unmanly color. He almost broke the peacock feather off his turban in disgust until he realized the tickling torture he could inflict on his helpless slave girl.

The Sultan of Bry and his esteemed guest, the Viceroy of Adama strode under the tent. Eight minutes had passed since two American men left a woman struggling to escape. Her position hadn’t changed but her volume had increased.

“I heard you come back in here. I demand you release me.

Immediately!”

The Viceroy made a motion of respect, touching his forehead, then chest before sweeping his hand to the side. “Sultan, it seems your latest acquisition hasn’t learned respect for her new master.” He spoke formally, as one great ruler to another.

The slave woman gritted her teeth, breasts trembling in a most attractive manner as she caught her breath and adapted to the situation.

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“True,” replied the Sultan, “but I find her fire tempting. Her outrage encourages one to tame her. Personally.” He reached out a hand and flicked her nipple with his fingernail.

“Ouch! Dammit, that hurt!”

Both men knew Candy’s safe words, that “red light” would stop the play immediately and “orange” would slow it down. As long as she avoided those words, they knew she wanted to play, no matter how she screamed or demanded to be released.

The Sultan grasped her chin, lifting it towards his face. “Slaves learn respect or they are punished severely. I am your master now, and you will learn, or die.” He released her chin to trail his hand down her neck.

She pulled back from his touch. “I’m a free woman. I don’t have a master.”

“That is incorrect. I am Sultan Bry. Once I captured you, slave, you became the spoils of war, to do with as I choose. Tonight, I will share you with my guest, Viceroy Adama.” He captured her breast with his other hand, squeezing the flesh until she gasped. “This one has enough flesh to enjoy. I wonder if she can dance.”

Viceroy Adama stalked behind the slave and grasped a buttock.

“I’ve not had an American. Are they all this loud?” He slapped the flesh he had just squeezed, causing another wail.

Sultan Bry sighed. “They do tend to make a lot of noise.” He slid his hand from her breast down her body. He touched her naked mound, already glistening with arousal. “But they also scream their release most wonderfully.” He rubbed his finger between her labia and she thrust toward his hand.

Candy clamped her mouth shut on the moan that threatened to escape. Brand-new slave girls, especially those used to the freedom unusual to females in these parts, should fight against their new masters, not give in to the first intimate touch.

Her position, blindfolded and held with arms high and legs spread wide, made her eager for conquest. The men had established their
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respective roles: she was a new captive to be shared with the Sultan’s guest. Though she couldn’t fight back for now, she would bide her time, then strike.

The chain clanked and she lowered her arms in relief, her elbows again covering her chest.

“I like not these cuffs,” said Viceroy Adama, behind her. “They block access to her bountiful charms.”

“There are two of us and armed guards fill the palace. We can release one small woman.”

Sultan Bry stepped close and nuzzled her neck. “You will not escape. I will have a treaty with the Viceroy and you are part of the bait. Serve me well and you will be rewarded. Disobey me and suffer the consequences. Do you understand me, my Pearl of Dew?”

The newly-renamed slave girl nodded. She understood all right.

She understood that she might have a chance to escape. Perhaps exhaust them sexually then slip out the window, down to the river and away.

A few clicks and her hands were free. The man behind grasped her breasts and pulled her back against him. A thin layer of something soft separated his lower flesh from her bottom. His chest hair rasped her back—he wore no shirt. She waited for her feet to be released so she could run. Instead, the other man lifted the bar holding her ankles apart.

“What are you doing? Put me down!”

They did so, but not as she wished. They flipped her over onto her stomach and bent her over something hip-high. They pressed her head down and she grappled at the object. It was sausage-shaped and felt like a leather pommel horse, something she remembered from gymnastics. The weight of the bar holding her legs apart kept her bare feet on the carpet.

“A most welcome sight.”

The voice came from her master, obviously looking at her behind.

She cursed herself for keeping her pussy shaven. While she felt more
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sensations, her glistening flesh didn’t hide her eagerness. The distinct sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard caused her to jolt upright.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You expected your master to release your feet, then planned to run. Is this not correct?”

“But Viceroy Adama, did she not nod in agreement?”

“She nodded, but for all her noise, she did not state she would comply. I will apply some persuasion to pink up that bottom.”

“No! I won’t run away. I promise!”

“Cease your chatter. The words of a slave mean nothing.”

She screamed and squirmed at the first slap of the wide blade, more to release tension than in true pain.

“Hold her tight. I would not want your property harmed unduly.”

Sultan Bry set one foot on the bar between her feet and pressed down on her back with his hands, holding her down. Her position, so vulnerable to attack, the sound and feel of the flat metal slapping her flesh, and the implied violence of the scene all charged her with sexual tension. If only one of them would slip his hand between her legs, press her button and give her release.

Her master gave a low snarl and let go of her back. Before she could react he grasped her hips and impaled her, slamming deep. She clenched her internal muscles, trying to increase the friction, though her thighs were kept wide by the bar.

“You. Are. Mine,” he grunted, forcing her against the leather with each stroke. With her ass high and legs wide his balls banged against her clit each time. She tensed, ecstasy near when he exploded inside her, losing his rhythm and denying her release.

“Oh, please!” she whimpered.

Sultan Bry sank to the floor behind her and released her feet. She pushed herself away and managed two steps before the Viceroy grabbed her.

“Pleasure me, slave,” he demanded, pressing her shoulders down.

She sank to her knees in front of him, still blindfolded. Not sure
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where he stood, she ran her hands up his legs, tracing her way to his juncture. His silky pants had an opening cut right in the center. His staff jutted out, the tip weeping as her mouth found him.

“That’s right. Be nice or I will punish you further.”

Fabric rustled behind her as the Sultan relaxed. “Part of your punishment will be a denial of release. We will take our pleasure from you, but deny yours.”

Candy, er, Pearl of Dew, grasped the hot tube of flesh in her hands. She cupped his balls, squeezing him gently. His fingers clenched her hair, guiding her slowly in and out.

She used everything she’d learned in the last month to drive him crazy. She slid the tips of her teeth over him as he pulled out then flicked her tongue over his glans and into the slit. She dropped a hand to meet her own need but removed it at Sultan Bry’s hissed warning.

She used her wet fingers to increase his reaction, pressing her middle finger into his bottom, wiggling it until she felt the gland that shot men over their limit.

“Fuck!” Adam shouted and pulled away just in time. Forgetting their play, he picked her up and pressed her against his cock, impaling her. She held her arms tight against his neck, needing her release.

Knowing it would come with his.

“Slow down for a minute,” said Bry behind her.

Adam held her, both of them panting. A cool dab of lubricant warned her a moment before Bryan pressed against her bottom, demanding entrance. She strained out to let him enter. He eased his way in, snug against Adam’s cock, a thin membrane separating them.