Forcing you to back up to keep from gagging. My hand on the top of your head I lean you back against the wall. Pinned there I give you a few stokes. Long, and slow. The last one reaching a little down your throat. Don’t worry baby, I’m not going to abuse you. Letting you to you feet I peel off my shirt, and help you slip out of yours. Your jeans, freely thrown to the side. Both of us completely naked in nothing but the dim light from an outside source. I produce a pair of silk lined cuffs that I strap to your wrists. Holding your hands above your head I hook them onto the door frame. Your stretched, but not quite far enough. The other cuffs go on your ankles, and to each side of the door frame. Now with your legs open you’re nearly on your tip toes. This makes your legs look twice as long. Lots of skin exposed for me to consume. I kiss your neck, and trace down your shoulder and around your waist. Your nipples hard in the dim light. I give each one a small squeeze that makes your ass. I read for a while. I'd found a book written by some cattlemen's association about the history of cattle in the area of Wyoming I was writing about. It was interesting reading, but that had no effect on keeping me from nodding off from time to time, finally into a restless sleep and into the middle of a range war.I found Tom, my foreman, in the bottom of the ravine. It was clear he had been gutshot and left to die in solitary agony. I felt a surge of hatred at Millie's father. As much as I loved her I had a killing anger towards him. I stood up, looking at Tom's horse, one he raised from a foal and was the one thing in life he'd ever truly cared for ... his leg crippled with a careless shot and left to die like his master. I slid the .44 slowly out of the holster, dreading the task, but knowing it was my job to do. I raised the gun carefully, lined it up and ended his misery with the sudden noise in the quiet woods sounding a discordant note.As I eased the pistol back in the holster,.
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