Bondage Ranch

by Roland Graeme

  He was no longer in love with John Wayne. He knew better than to expect anything from him but sex—and, for that matter, sex on his terms. But Vaughn was still addicted to his cock.

  Perversely, though, his continuing obsession with John Wayne didn’t prevent him from lusting after other men. Whenever John Wayne didn’t want him, Vaughn continued to fuck around with Will, as well.

  On the nights when John Wayne wasn’t available, Vaughn fell back on his roommate, who was a more than adequate substitute. He’d do anything Will demanded from him in bed. Since Vaughn had never had any illusions about Will as a lover, as opposed to a sex partner, it was somehow even easier to let himself go physically with Will than it was with John Wayne. The truth was, Vaughn didn’t like Will all that much as a person. He was crude and selfish in bed. That didn’t stop Vaughn from enjoying his body.

  John Wayne was hardly gentle with Vaughn, or considerate of his own needs. But it was with Will that Vaughn first experimented with really rough sex. He discovered that, under the right circumstances, he could get off on it.

  It was at Vaughn’s instigation that the two roommates had progressed beyond oral sex. Vaughn had encouraged Will to fuck him, any time Will wanted to. Being an open-minded and versatile type, at least when it came to sex, Will soon learned to enjoy plowing Vaughn’s ass.

  One night in their room, they both stripped, as usual. Will climbed onto Vaughn’s bed and straddled his chest, slapping him back and forth across the face, first with his erect cock, then with the palm of his hand. He struck Vaughn’s cheek lightly, but still hard enough to sting a little.

  “Fucking whore,” he grunted. “So Kearney’s not enough to satisfy that ass of yours, huh? Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he added, referring to the slapping, without giving Vaughn a chance to reply. “You like it when a guy slaps you around a little, and puts you in your place. Maybe you like it a little too much. I’ll have to save it, as a special treat for when you’re a good boy and do exactly what I tell you to do. Not that you have much of a choice in the matter. Either you do what I want, or you can go find yourself another dick to suck and take up your ass.”

  Vaughn wanted to make Will angry. He decided to insult him, to goad him on—to see what he would do. “You dirty cocksucker,” Vaughn exclaimed, jeering at him.

  Will let him have it then—a real slap—which left Vaughn’s cheek burning afterward.

  “Watch your mouth,” he warned Vaughn. “And we both know you’re the real cocksucker here—aren’t you, bitch?” Again, without allowing Vaughn to respond in words, Will raised himself a bit on his knees, directing his rapidly hardening dick toward Vaughn’s mouth. He slapped his meat across Vaughn’s chin, then he demanded, “Open your mouth and start sucking!”

  Vaughn obeyed him without hesitation or question, unable to resist what Will was offering him. His hunger for cock outweighed every other consideration. He was willing, indeed eager, to humiliate himself, if only his subservience was rewarded with cock!

  Throwing his body forward and supporting himself on the mattress with both hands, placed on either side of Vaughn’s head, Will reamed out his throat with the potent shaft of his cock. He fucked Vaughn’s face as brutally as John Wayne had ever fucked Vaughn’s ass, but Vaughn took the abuse without complaint. Will’s heavy nuts swung like a pendulum against the underside of Vaughn’s chin as the pierced and tattooed cowboy pumped his hips back and forth. Feeling Will’s bulky prick slide over his tongue and stab toward his gullet, Vaughn lay there passively, allowing the other man to dominate him completely. Vaughn’s own neglected cock stood up from his groin, stiff and throbbing, and leaking jism from its tip.

  Will’s physical abuse was accompanied by a steady stream of verbal abuse.

  “Lousy cocksucking whore,” he panted, driving his hot piston relentlessly in and out of Vaughn’s throat, pressing his pubic hair against Vaughn’s bruised lips. “Take it, bitch! Choke on it! I like to hear you gag. It’s a real fucking turn-on for me.”

  Vaughn accepted the brutal barrage of Will’s cock thrusts, his own subservience transforming Will’s selfish use of him into a perverse kind of groveling sexual ecstasy.

  It wasn’t long, though, before Will evidently decided he’d had enough of that. Vaughn knew what would come next. Will wanted Vaughn’s ass. Will and John Wayne certainly had that in common. They both got off on plowing Vaughn’s butt.

  Will silently urged Vaughn to get on his hands and knees on the bed. Kneeling behind Vaughn, Will put on a rubber, gave himself a swipe of lube, then with brisk efficiency he drove his dick into Vaughn’s rear end.

  The hard ball of his cock head burst through the muscular ring of Vaughn’s ass. Will didn’t take long strokes at first. He kept them short and even, pausing a moment each time before he pushed the full length of his swollen cock back into the grip of Vaughn’s narrow anal channel. The fact that Will moved so slowly at first at least gave Vaughn a chance to get used to the fullness of that big cock in his anus. But then, little by little, Will began to pick up momentum, until he was drilling that massive prick of his into Vaughn’s bunghole with long, sure, demanding strokes.

  Each time his prick attained a full penetration of Vaughn’s ass, it throbbed within Vaughn, awesome in its power to inflict such painful ecstasy. The pleasure Vaughn felt as Will used his hole was almost unbearable. But Vaughn knew it couldn’t last indefinitely. Several times, Will paused, his breath beginning to catch in his throat, as he struggled to maintain control and postpone his orgasm. But each time, he would once again start to drive his dick into Vaughn with fierce strokes. When Will let out a sudden, hoarse cry of lustful excitement, Vaughn knew his fucker was nearing his climax. Far from doing anything to stop him from achieving it, Vaughn squeezed down on Will’s shaft with every anal muscle he had at his disposal, providing the extra stimulation guaranteed to push him over the edge.

  Will came in Vaughn’s ass. Vaughn came too, all over the bed under him.

  Afterward, the two men didn’t even exchange so much as a word. Once again, Vaughn had served his purpose. He lay there, spent, as Will went to his own bed and fell asleep.

  But sleep eluded Vaughn at first.

  It was while he lay there in his bed, covered in the sweat of sex and his own cum, that he came to a decision.

  He now realized that, although sex was important to him, it wasn’t everything. He didn’t have to put up with a lot of crap just so he could get laid. He was no longer naïve. He knew that there must be gay men everywhere—and especially on other ranches. It was just a question of learning how to recognize them and seeking them out.

  Vaughn was a hard worker. He shouldn’t have any difficulty finding another job. He promised himself that he’d get on the Internet and start looking for other employment opportunities, and that he’d start his search the very next day.

  I don’t have to settle for guys who just want to take advantage and use me. Guys who just want to get their rocks off, and who don’t give a damn about me. No, I can move on. Find another job, on another spread, and make a fresh start.

  And when I do—this time, I’ll be smarter. I won’t sell myself so cheaply. I won’t let myself be nothing but another man’s whore. I’ll hold out for something more—something better. I’ll find a guy—more than one, if I’m lucky!—who’ll appreciate me for what I am. Who’ll want to be more than just a fuck buddy. Yeah, somebody who’ll want to be my boyfriend—my lover.

  Chapter Nine: The New Man in His Life

  It was a hot day on The Burning Spur, and most of the ranch hands were working stripped to the waist. Vaughn could feel himself sweating profusely. He pulled a bandana from the back pocket of his jeans and used it to wipe his face and chest.

  The hot sun beating down on his bare torso had one advantage. It was helping to even out his tan—at least from his waist up.

  He thought about his buddy Darren, and he grinned. That had been some gangbang at his place last
weekend. Vaughn was already looking forward to the next farmhouse sex party. He’d promised Darren he’d be there, come hell or high water. Vaughn couldn’t wait to get down and dirty with Darren and his buddies again.

  Yeah—there’s nothing like a stiff dick after a hard day’s work to make a guy feel good. No—make that more than one stiff dick. The more the merrier, as they say!

  I’m turning into a goddamn sex addict. But I can’t help it. And I like it. I like it a lot!

  There’d been a time not so long ago when Vaughn would never have imagined himself participating in a group sex scene. Fooling around with other guys one-on-one was one thing. A full-blown orgy was quite another. But now that he’d had a taste, he was ready to consume the whole pie.

  Like a lot of young men who’d grown up in small rural communities, Vaughn wasn’t particularly forthcoming about his sexuality. He was neither in the closet, nor fully out. He wasn’t ashamed of being gay. But experience had taught him that it could still be a disadvantage in certain circumstances. In addition, he placed a high value on privacy—his own and other people’s. An innate fastidiousness made him reluctant to share the details of his sex life with just anybody. Things might be different if he lived in a large city.

  The vast rural expanses of Montana weren’t exactly gay-friendly. There, discretion was still the better part of valor.

  One of the other ranch hands, Flint, sauntered over to Vaughn, interrupting his reverie.

  “Want a cigarette?” Flint asked.

  “No thanks. And I thought you were trying to quit.”

  “I am. But I ain’t been having much luck. The fact is, I’ve got all sorts of bad habits I’m trying to get rid of. Not just smoking, but also drinking, cursing, and fucking. The funny thing is, the more I concentrate on doing just one of them, the easier it seems to be for me to do without the others.” Flint grinned. “Maybe if I do a lot more fucking, I won’t mind giving up those other three vices.”

  “I’d be glad to try to help you out, if I can.”

  “Spoken like a true friend. I may take you up on that. I thought maybe I’d work on my problem tonight. Are you as horny as I am?”

  “Probably. That’d be a safe guess. I know you’re always horny. And you bring out the worst in me.”

  “Or the best. All depends on how you look at it. Should I come to your room?”

  “Sure. When?”

  “How about after suppertime?”

  “That’ll be fine. Just give me an hour or so to tidy up the place.”

  “Okay. But don’t bother to make it too tidy. I plan on messing up your bed, for sure.”

  “And don’t you make me wait too long.”

  Flint grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t. An hour’s about as long as I think I can keep it on hold.”

  They parted. Vaughn was already aware of an anticipatory stirring in his loins.

  Flint was a few years older than Vaughn was, although he was still well short of thirty. He hailed from Texas originally and he’d come to Montana to find work. But Flint was more experienced and worldly than Vaughn. As a result, Vaughn looked up to him. He also lusted after him. Flint had been a good mentor to Vaughn. And he’d been an even better fuck buddy!

  Leaving his old job at The Ranch from Hell and coming to work there at The Burning Spur was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  Vaughn smiled at his memories of his last few days at his former place of employment. He’d had enough sense to list the owner of the ranch as a reference, rather than John Wayne Kearney, when he’d started submitting applications online. And he’d made sure the new job was a done deal before he’d handed in his resignation.

  Kearney had been furious when he learned that he was about to lose his fuck boy.

  “You’re just going to have to break in some new guy,” Vaughn had dared to tell the foreman, flippantly.

  “You bitch,” Kearney had sputtered. “You ungrateful little bitch!”

  “The way I look at it, I ain’t got all that much to be so grateful about,” Vaughn had retorted. “You’ve had your free ride. Hope you enjoyed it. Because now I’m cutting you off. Find yourself another boy.”

  “Punk!” Kearney exploded. “Cocksucking punk!”

  Vaughn stopped having sex with Kearney. The man no longer held any power over him. Vaughn could defy him, with impunity.

  Will, to give him credit, congratulated Vaughn on his new job, wishing him well. Deciding that there was no point in harboring hard feelings, Vaughn treated Will to a farewell fuck on the night before his departure.

  “You’re not such a bad piece of ass, you know,” Will said to Vaughn, afterward. “If I was one of you goddamn queers, I might go for you.” Coming from Will, that was high praise. “You ought to make out all right at your new job,” Will predicted. “Anywhere a guy goes, there’s one thing for sure. There’ll be other guys, and they’ll all be horny motherfuckers.”

  That turned out to be an accurate prediction.

  One of the things Vaughn liked about working at The Burning Spur was the living quarters provided for the ranch hands. What they called the bunkhouse was in fact a structure more like a typical roadside motel. Located near the main house, it was a long, narrow, one-story building. Each employee had his own room—and his own bathroom. The rooms and the bathrooms were small, but the tradeoff in privacy was ample compensation. The men took their meals in the large kitchen in the main house. Their rooms, however, were equipped with hot plates, microwave ovens, and mini refrigerators, so they could keep their own supplies of foodstuffs on hand and make snacks for themselves. To Vaughn, the accommodations were luxurious.

  Vaughn and Flint invariably met for sex in Vaughn’s room, rather than Flint’s—not because Flint was in any way inhospitable, but because Vaughn’s room happened to be at one end of the row and was the room farthest away from the main house. That minimized the chance that anybody would see his visitor coming or going. Of course, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if one of the other men did notice Flint standing on Vaughn’s doorstep. Guys could, and did, get together just to talk, kill time playing cards or doing other innocent activities together. But Vaughn, who had developed a definite preference for not-so-innocent activities, didn’t care to be the object of speculation and gossip.

  He could feel himself getting increasingly excited as he resumed his work. He and Flint were going to fuck! The sex was always good between the two of them, but today Vaughn was in an especially randy mood.

  I’m going to drain that horse-cocked, bull-nutted stud dry. And I’m going to drop more than one load, myself!

  Of course, Flint was one of the other things Vaughn liked about The Burning Spur.

  As he’d anticipated, Vaughn hadn’t had much trouble finding new sex partners shortly after his arrival. He and Flint had a thing going on between them. There were other guys with whom Vaughn had tricked, but he still thought of Flint as kind of special. They’d become good friends—and there was no doubt about whether they were sexually compatible.

  It was sex between equals. Vaughn had made sure of that from the beginning. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be exploited again. He wasn’t going to be another man’s bitch—unless he decided that was what he wanted.

  Oh, he and Flint role-played sometimes, to spice things up a bit. That was harmless. It added to the fun. They respected each other, which was the important thing.

  When the supper bell rang, the men cleaned up quickly, then they assembled in the kitchen. Seated at the table opposite Flint during the meal, Vaughn exchanged a few secretive, knowing glances with his friend. Vaughn could feel the anticipation building in his groin.

  After dessert, Flint remained at the table, enjoying another cup of coffee. But Vaughn excused himself and hurried to his room. The sun was setting and the sky was already growing dark.

  In preparation for Flint’s visit, Vaughn got his room ready for sex. He turned down the bed and s
et out a box of condoms, a tube of lubricant, and a freshly laundered trick towel on the nightstand. Next, he turned the lamp beside the bed down low to create a suitably intimate, seductive mood. Not that Flint ever required much in the way of seduction. Still, Vaughn liked things to be cozy during sex. Then Vaughn got himself ready for a sex romp, as well. He stripped and stood under a hot shower for quite some time, allowing the hot water and the steam to relax him, and giving himself a good scrub from head to foot. He paid extra attention to his genitals and his butt, because he was confident that Flint wasn’t going to neglect those areas of his body.

  Stepping out of the shower, Vaughn dried himself off, rubbing his hair with a towel to get the excess moisture out of it. Then he slipped on a favorite pair of worn old sweatpants. In the kitchen, he mixed himself his drink of choice—scotch with a little water, no ice—then, comfortably barefoot and bare-chested, he sat down on the overstuffed armchair to await his guest.

  He supposed that the most accurate way to describe his relationship with Flint would be to say that they were fuck buddies. They’d worked on the ranch together for several weeks before anything even remotely sexual had happened between them. They’d liked each other from the start, and had become good coworkers and friends. Vaughn had assumed that would be the extent of it.

  Luckily for him, he’d been wrong.

  Until he got to know somebody, Flint tended to be a man of few words.

  The first time he’d asked Vaughn about his sex life, his interrogation was typically telegraphic in its succinctness.

  “Not much to do around here at night, is there?” Flint asked.

  “Not much,” Vaughn agreed.

  “It’d be different if a guy could get laid.”

  “I reckon so.”

  “You got a girlfriend, Vaughn?”

  “No.”

  “You got a boyfriend?”