Saddled, Chapter Five (Patreon)

Chapter Five

Davidson used the pole to force John toward the open stalls at the end. John knew exactly how this was going to end, but at this point, he wasn’t sure how he would feel about it.

He’d prepared himself to close his eyes and think of England while some man fucked him. Instead, John was hard. When he’d pushed Davidson up against the wall, he hadn’t care about escape. He’d wanted to hump the bastard until he came all over those expensive pants. When the plug really pressed hard into John’s prostate, the hard waves of pleasure were enough to knock him off his feet, and now he was going to let Davidson not just fuck him, but make him come.

And John had no doubt he would come. He was ready to now. He shivered and the strands of his tail brushed across the backs of his thighs. The cool silk against his whipped-hot skin made him scream his frustration, not that Davidson seemed to care.

The man was so hard his pants were straining, yet he calmly led John to the tack room. Harness and bits and bridles lined the walls, and saddles sat on stands—western, riding saddles, racing saddles, fancy ones that John had no idea when a person would use. However, right now, Davidson had another use in mind, which was obvious when he forced John over to a saddle that sat on a sturdy base.

John struggled, but it was hard to fight when the lead pulled on his mouth and neck. In the end he had to yield, and then Davidson walked around the stand and started pulling John down. The first set of reins was still tight, so the change in posture forced the plug into him, and John howled his displeasure, but Davidson gave him a hard yank, and he collapsed, his stomach over the saddle. John used a rope already tied to the base of the wood to tie off John’s bridle, and then John was helpless.

For a time, Davidson stood next to John, a warm hand on John’s shoulder. “Good boy,” Davidson said.

John jerked as hard as he could, but neither the bondage or the saddle stand budged. Good. John wanted to take that “good” and shove it up Davidson’s ass. Davidson patted him. “It’s okay boy. If it’s too much, you can signal.”

John stilled. Was Davidson telling him to use his safe signal? John could stamp his foot three times, but what would be Davidson’s purpose in reminding him of that? Next time, John was taking a simple job, something that required sex, not a complex chess game with John’s body as the prize.

Davidson walked around, and John couldn’t see him. With his stomach over the saddle, his head hung lower than his shoulders. However, John listened to the footsteps, and when Davidson sounded close, John kicked backward. He missed, but he heard a shuffling of feet and then something clattered to the ground. 

“Oh, you are spirited.” A sharp crack broke the silence a second before John felt the burn in a line across his ass. Shit. The heat soaked into John’s skin, and John came so damn close to giving his signal. John had endured pain of all varieties. He’d had hooks pierce his flesh. He’d had a line snap on a crab pot and cut his shoulder open. He’d broken fingers and kept working. One of his fingers was still crooked because he hadn’t gotten to the doctor for a day and a half, and by then it had set badly and John had refused to allow them to rebreak it.

Pain was a familiar enemy.

However, when Davidson wielded the whip, the pain was different. It was a dance of pain and heat and pleasure and relief. The complexities were enough to drive John mad because he couldn’t make up his mind about how he felt. It was like when he’d worked a boat in the Arctic circle and sometimes he’d gotten so cold that he felt hot. The body just couldn’t process the feelings fast enough to label them.

And right now, his cock was getting all the wrong signals. John humped his back, but his poor dangling cock couldn’t reach anything.

Davidson must have switched whips because the next one didn’t create bright stripes of heat. It kissed John’s ass with a thousand tiny stings. Davidson brought it down again lower, and John kicked out again as tiny pinpricks attacked the undersides of his balls.

“Be a good boy,” Davidson said.

John strained against every strap holding him, and accomplished absolutely nothing as the light whip whistled through the air and came down harder. John kicked out again, getting nothing but air. Then Davidson was between John’s legs, his hands pressing down against John’s back. He laid on John, his shirt buttons pressing into John’s back. “I love the feel of a strong body straining under mine. I will gentle break you, my Spirit. I’m going to make sure that you can carry the bridle and saddle and still have that fire in you.” He whispered the words, his breath warm against John’s shoulder.

With Davidson so close, John couldn’t kick, and he had no other weapon, so he had to lay and endure. Davidson reached down and grabbed John’s tail, pulling it up so the plug was rammed into John’s prostate.

John screamed and wiggled, but that was all he could do. “Tomorrow I may let you try to buck me off,” Davidson said. “Would my beautiful boy like that?”

John clacked his teeth against the bit. That was the only threat he could issue.

Davidson chucked and pressed a kiss between John’s shoulder blades before he stood. “Stallions have to know who is the master,” Davidson said. “They’re happier once the issue of dominance is settled.” Then he pulled the plug out.

John’s ass felt open and wrong and cold for one second before Davidson’s cock slammed into him. It was larger than the plug, which made John’s muscles strain. Davidson pulled out and then started pounding into him, hitting John’s prostate without teasing him with that not-full-enough feeling.  John pawed at the floor, struggling to get some sort of leverage so he could do something—although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to escape or press back into the ass-reaming. However the concrete floors let his horseshoe bottomed boots slide right over them.

Davidson was grunting with each thust now, pounding John so hard their bodies slapped together. Sweat dripped into John’s eyes, and he fought the rope that held his head down. Davidson kept going and going, the heat building and the friction starting to sting as he brutally took John. John didn’t know how long Davidson could go, but he was starting to feel desperate when a hand reached around and grabbed his cock.

John screamed, and one of the horses loudly whinnied a response. Davidson’s fist slid up and down once, and John was coming his whole body tightening as the orgasm made the world gray out. Of course hanging upside down while having sex didn’t help either. By the time John had put the pieces of reality back together, Davidson was tying off his condom. He walked in front of John and dangled the used rubber.

“This makes you mine, Spirit. I fucked you until you came. And I’m going to do that a lot, so you can either get it in your head that you belong to me or you can keep fighting and I’m going to have a fun time breaking you one inch at a time.” Davidson dropped the condom in the trash.

John shivered from the words and the way his sweat-damp skin was cooling in the evening chill. Threatening talk was right there on the call list under anal penetration, but this felt real, and John had no way to save himself from the situation. He had honestly fought as hard as he could, and he’d ended up tied over a saddle and fucked. At some point, he’d drawn an invisible line between himself and the other Agency assistants. Yes, he played into fantasies for money. He’d pissed on men and been pissed on by both men and women. He’d fucked women while their husbands were tied up and gagged in the same bed. He’d been whipped and trained in how to deliver a professional whipping. 

However, he’d never wanted a client the way he wanted Davidson. Maybe that wasn’t accurate. He wanted Davidson’s whip and his cock, and he was even willing to tolerate his bondage and his control issues. Still, that was as close as John had ever come to allowing himself to get too close to a client.

Davidson came back and laid on John’s back again.  “I’m going to make sure my boy rests well tonight, and then tomorrow we are going to play such games,” Davidson said. “I can see myself quite neglecting work when I have such a beautiful boy to tame to the whip. Davidson ran his hands over John’s shoulders. “Who has used you so roughly, my boy?” Davidson whispered.

John had no idea what Davidson meant by that, but he was grateful that the bridle meant he didn’t need to answer. After a time, Davidson patted John’s shoulder and stood. Rather than just wipe John down with a cloth, Davidson then gave him an honest-to-God massage, while John was bent over the saddle with his ass in the air.

“Spread out there, boy,” Davidson said, kicking John’s legs apart. John didn’t fight. He needed to save something for tomorrow because from the sounds of it, Davidson had a lot more planned. John needed time to gather his thoughts and remember why he was doing this. The money. He needed to focus on the money, and not the way Davidson’s hands felt on him.

“That took some of the starch out of my pretty stallion, didn’t it? Yes, that’s right. My pretty boy knows who his master is.” Davidson was back to cooing at him, and John sighed. He actually preferred the threats. Davidson used cool water to wash John’s shoulders, soaping them carefully and then rinsing the soap and BenGay away. After John had been wiped clean, his face washed and his back and ass massaged, Davidson crouched between his open legs and carefully washed John’s abused asshole. The cool water felt good.

“My pretty stallion has a pussy now, doesn’t he?” John growled his displeasure and kicked blindly. For a second he thought he’d made contact, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. However, a moment later he realized Davidson had grabbed his leg. He pulled it higher, and John slid forward, his head closer to the ground as Davidson held one leg captive. For a second, he imagined himself crashing head first into the concrete with no way to save himself, but then the harness caught him. Davidson had clearly attached John to the saddle stand with more than one rope. With only one foot on the ground, John felt utterly helpless.

“Things can always get worse, pet. I won’t ever hurt you for fighting, but do remember I have very creative ways of making sure you regret it.” Davidson petted the back of John’s thigh and then slowly lowered it to the ground. John snorted and tried to slow his heartbeat.

“Where was I? Oh yes. I believe I’d just told you that you have a pussy.”

John shivered, but he didn’t kick this time. “You also have a beautiful cock. But you know what this is for now.” Davidson slipped his finger into John’s ass. “You are such a strong stallion that you don’t have to pretend in order to seem more manly. You could wear a pink tutu and still be a model of masculinity, my beautiful stallion, but now you know you also enjoy being mounted and put in your place. Yes, my pretty stallion has the first crack and I’m going to use that to take him apart into a thousand pieces.” Davidson pressed against John’s prostate.

John groaned, but there was no way he could get hard again. There was also no way that Davidson could shatter him by next Monday. He was, however, starting to fear that Davidson could leave some pretty big cracks.

Davidson finally lubed John’s ass again and slipped his tail back in place before replacing all the straps. “Time for dinner, my beautiful,” Davidson said with a cheerful enthusiasm that made John want to kick him. The problem was he was too damn tired to bother.

When Davidson came around to the front of the saddle stand, he untied the rope and picked up the reins. “Up, boy.”

John struggled, but eventually got his legs under him and followed Davidson out of the tack room. Davidson led him to the south stall. The metal bars started at about five feet and continued up to the top of the barn. If Davidson locked the stall, John wouldn’t escape, even if he had his hands, which were still tied behind his back. John was just grateful they were tied to the harness and his wrists weren’t tied to each other. It meant his shoulders weren’t under too much strain. Everything Davidson did seemed designed to annoy John to death more than break him.

And yet, John feared he was breaking, small bits at a time.

“Come on, boy.” Davidson hooked the reins through a ring under a series of upside down bottles and then pulled back on them. John was pulled to the wall of bottles. He kept his gaze on Davidson, not trusting the man as far as he could throw him.

“Good boy. Eat up,” Davidson said with a bit of a coo in his voice. John might have tried to kick him again, but he was tired, and after really good sex, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, not that he would get that chance any time soon.

“You are well named, Spirit. Such a stubborn animal.” Davidson tied the end of the reins off and headed out of the stall, leaving John trapped with his nose up against the plastic bottles. John tried crying out, “Hey!” but it came out more as a grunt. A horse whickered back at him. Eat up. John eyed the bottles, and he suspected he knew how this worked. He’d never been around a farm before, but he’d seen enough gerbil cages to recognize a giant rodent water dish. Davidson had too damn much money.

John sucked at the curved straw of the first bottle suspiciously. Water. Grateful, John drank quite a bit despite the bit deep in his mouth. It made swallowing feel awkward and his tongue didn’t seem to fit well in his mouth. But he figured it out.  He moved to the second bottle and found a thick cream sauce, like a pureed clam chowder. It needed a little hot sauce to give it spice, but it was fine. John ran out of food before he ran out of appetite. When he got out of these stables, he was going to eat his weight in fried clams.

When he sucked at the third bottle, he found it empty.

And still, he was tied to the wall, waiting for Davidson to come back and set him free. Davidson was good, John had to admit it. As he stood waiting, John was forced to wish for Davidson to return so he could get free of the wall. It put John in a position of wanting the attention of the man who treated him like a horse. Davidson was evil and manipulative and fucking brilliant. 

When John had reviewed the call list for this case, he couldn’t figure out why one man would have such a weird collection of kinks. He wanted an assistant he could hand feed, that he could control when and where the assistant drank, that he could tie up, that he could whip, that he could hand wash, that he could watch sleep, that he could massage. It had seemed like a mismatched married pair checking off items on a shopping list. Half were from the gentle, fuzzy cuffs side of bondage, and the other half were hard-core and serious.

At the time John had assumed that Davidson had put the gentler items on the list to make himself sound less like a psychotic control freak, but now John suspected the items John had dismissed as unimportant were far more dangerous than he’d assumed. Davidson’s hands felt good on John’s body, and that was a reality John could have lived without knowing.

Chapter 6: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-16207252 

Chapter 7: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-16538533 

Chapter 8: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-16939268 

Chapter 9: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-17047062 

Chapter 10: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-17637933 

Chapter 11: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-18483089 

Chapter 12: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-18786045 

Chapter 13 and 14: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapters-18974026 

Chapter 15: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19132781 

Chapter 16: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19490176 

Chapter 17: https://www.patreon.com/posts/saddled-chapter-19634666