~ erotica ~
He dragged her behind him, her wrists bound, his sweaty bandanna covering her eyes. She stumbled over the uneven ground but always kept herself upright as he hurriedly led her to his favorite spot.
Stopping, he shoved her down to the ground, her knees landing on the wet earth, straw and mud now caking her shines. She heard him sit on something, not sure what, and felt as he tied her wrist rope to something as well.
He pulled the bandanna off her head, errant strands of hair now flying this way and that, no care in that he took a lock or two with his rag.
The Sun was setting in the background. The amber light gave a glow to his face, to the menacing, calculating smile that was plastered across it.
"Hello," he said before slapping her hard.
Gripping the collar of her tight shirt, he riped it open down the front. Taking out his knife, he riped down the back as well, exposing yet more skin. A few good tugs freed her bra to fall to the ground. Reaching down, he created a small slit in her also tight skirt. With a few good tugs, he sheered this fabric off her as well. Two more tugs with his blade and he pulled her thong off too.
She was naked, the pieces of her shirt hanging from the rope around her wrists looking almost comical in their exaggeration of her binding.
He put away his knife, folding it up and slipping it into his boot. He took off his hat and sat it next to him on the large rotting log. The width of the wood was easily four feet. The cowboy had found a natural notch in the tree, a perfect spot for him to laze against as he gazed on his prey.
Looking about, she saw where her wrist rope was secured, looped around multiple branches on the side of the log, branches that had once been roots snaked deep through the earth.
Pulling a tube from his other boot, the cowboy slipped a cigar into his hand.
"Do you smoke," he asked.
She didn't want to answer; she wanted to exude some semblance of control, of still having some power in this situation. He slapped her again.
"Do you smoke?" She remained quiet.
Quick as lightning, his blade was out and by her neck.
"You're pretty, which is why I picked you, but this is no fun when you're all quiet like. Now I can make you make noises in many different ways, many of which I'm sure you won't like, but if you keep me happy you may just enjoy your time with me."
He lifted his knife, pressing into her neck. She felt the scratch and gave a whimper as the tiny trickle of a few drops of blood kissed her skin.
"Now, do you smoke?"
"No," she said, quiet as a church mouse, eyes closed, stern resignation on her face.
"See, was that so bad?"
The cowboy brought the blade to his tongue, licking the small streak of red that had formed, before putting the knife away again.
"Me, I love a good cigar. Love the smell. The taste. And all the fun things I can do with it."
He gripped her hair and pulled her to standing.
"There are so many things I can do with a cigar." He brought her head close to his, then traced her lips with the tobacco.
"Open up." She parted her lips, her eyes locked on his.
"Close." She shut her mouth around the cigar.
"Now, can you think of something that looks a lot like a cigar? And can you image how it would like to be sucked? Would you be so kind as to suck on my cigar like that?"
She closed her eyes, then rolled her tongue around the end of the cigar. She used her lips, caressing the end. For a moment, she tried to forget where she was, who held her here, and the fate she knew soon awaited her.
"Yes, I like that." He pulled the cigar out of her mouth slowly, tapping her lips when it was finally free of their touch.
"But, actually, I prefer my cigars to be flavored."
Guiding her by her hair, he pushed her onto the log, her skin abraded over the rough wood. Pulling her legs apart, he brushed the tip of the cigar against her pussy lips, up to her clit and around and around the nub. Despite herself, she moaned at the touch.
"Hmm, you like that. Do you like that?" He pulled her head back, his gaze locked on her eyes.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes. Yes, I like it."
He pushed her head back down and returned his cigar to her pussy. This time, instead of teasing, he used the cigar to enter her, pushing the tobacco up into her body so that it almost disappeared. She gasped, a moan she wished she could've held back.
"I also like my tobacco warmed before I smoke it."
Remembering Leonard Nimoy - Normally, I’m pretty good with words. At the moment, I’m not at my best, for reasons I hope are self evident. However, I’m going to do my best to remember ...