Bondage ranch, p.1

Bondage Ranch, page 1


Bondage Ranch

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Bondage Ranch

  A young ranch hand discovers that he likes his sex with other men to be on the rough and kinky side.

  Vaughn Richardson enjoys living and working as a ranch hand in rural Montana. Among the unofficial perks of the job is the fact that the handsome young man finds himself surrounded by other virile men. Vaughn enjoys casual sexual encounters with a number of these men. But his deeper, even more urgent desires seem to be stirred whenever the sex gets a bit rough, or when it incorporates any hint of bondage and discipline or dominant-and-submissive roleplaying. Vaughn has to learn how to overcome his lingering shame about his needs, and embrace them fully. With the help of a number of sex partners, he does so.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Bondage Ranch

  Copyright © 2017 Roland Graeme

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-0859-6

  Cover art by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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  Bondage Ranch


  Roland Graeme

  Chapter One: Clothing Optional

  Vaughn Richardson’s pickup was his most prized possession. The truck was old and nothing to look at on the outside. The body had dents and the paint was discolored by exposure to the sunlight and peeled off in places. But the vehicle was mechanically sound. Vaughn worked on it himself and he kept it running with the precision of a watch.

  Reliable personal transportation was a necessity in rural Montana. The roads were not always in the best shape, and there could be long distances between service stations.

  Tonight was typical. Vaughn had driven on that back road for almost an hour without glimpsing another vehicle. It was a warm summer night and Vaughn had the truck’s windows rolled down. The narrow pavement ran through dense wooded country much of the time. Vaughn could hear the steady hum of nocturnal insects above the sound of his engine. He was careful not to drive too fast. There was always the possibility that some wild animal would emerge from the trees and dart across the road in front of a vehicle’s headlights.

  It was beautiful country, but a rugged one. Living there encouraged men to stay physically fit.

  Vaughn was a young man of twenty-three, good-looking, lean and hard-muscled. He spent so much of his time outdoors that his face, arms, and hands were deeply tanned. When he stripped, though, he was two-toned. The parts of his body which were protected from the sun by his clothes were still his paler natural skin color, dusted here and there with freckles.

  As he got closer to his destination, the forest yielded to more open country. Vaughn drove through a couple of small towns, then he took a two-lane road which threaded its way past one working farm after another. He saw only a few windows which were lit up that late at night. Most of these farm families worked from sunup to sundown, and by then they were no doubt already in bed. Little did they suspect that men were traveling past them in the night in search of sex.

  Vaughn was one of those men. He was going to a sex party. Ever since he’d received and accepted the invitation, he’d been able to think of little else. As he drove he was acutely aware of the way his cock kept swelling to semi-firmness within the confines of his jeans. If he wasn’t careful, it might spring into full erection and start rubbing against the bottom of the steering wheel.

  Vaughn’s anticipation of what might happen at the sex party was undercut by a lingering sense of anxiety. He really didn’t know what to expect. He’d never done anything quite like this before.

  Until recently, in fact, his sexual experience had been limited. As a strapping young lad, he’d had a strong sex drive. But he’d remained a virgin, confining himself to nightly masturbation.

  He’d always been attracted to other men. Their bodies aroused him in a way that he found disturbing at first. But then he realized that there were other men who had the same urges.

  His first sexual experience with a partner had quickly led to others. It was like a dam bursting. Once that first crack appeared in the wall, there was no holding the torrent back.

  The Internet had transformed gay life everywhere, but especially in such places as Montana. A guy might have to drive for hours to find a city large enough to sustain a gay bar or bathhouse. Cruising via the Internet was by contrast easy and efficient. The Internet was a gold mine of information about which bars in smaller communities were mixed or gay-friendly, and about where men could cruise and pick up one another in public. Of course, chatting with other guys on the Internet often led to a rendezvous. In such instances, driving to hook up with the other man was usually well worth the expenditure of time, energy, and gasoline.

  Vaughn had his laptop equipped with a webcam, so he could see what his potential tricks looked like—and they, of course, could see him.

  He’d met Darren online and they’d been webcamming regularly for almost a month. Vaughn had been willing to meet Darren in person from the start. But Vaughn worked on a ranch called The Burning Spur and he had limited time off. He also found flirting with Darren online pleasurable. The delay in consummating their relationship had created some sexual suspense.

  Darren was an amiable man who admitted to being thirty-six, although he didn’t look it. He was brown-haired, brown-eyed, bearded, and compactly built, with a hint of a bear about him.

  Darren had inherited his family’s old farm, where he lived alone. He didn’t have a steady lover. “Just fuck buddies and assorted tricks,” as he blithely put it during one conversation with Vaughn.

  He threw the sex parties at his place twice a month, usually on a Friday or Saturday night. “I’d do them more often,” he told Vaughn, “but it always takes me a few days to clean up and recuperate afterward. And by then it’s time to start planning the next one!”

  At the risk of sounding hopelessly naïve, Vaughn felt compelled to ask Darren exactly what went on at one of his sex parties.

  Darren explained that he had a core group of regulars who usually showed up. New faces and bodies were always welcome, though. Sometimes he tried to keep the group smaller and more intimate, but on other occasions as many as two dozen or more men might show up. “Wall-to-wall bodies,” Darren joked. “Wall-to-wall dick. I love it. Can’t get enough.”

  He provided his guests with food and drink. He always set out a coffee can for contributions. If anyone wanted to toss in a few bucks to help pay for the refreshments, that was fine, but it was purely voluntary.

  These were clothing optional events. At some point in the evening, everybody got more or less naked, and got down to it. “We keep on going until there’s nothing but limp dicks left in the house,” Darren explained, gleefully. Group sex was the norm, and no one had any problems with voyeurism. The guest list always seemed to includ
e a few guys who preferred to watch, at least for part of the time. If two men were especially attracted to each other and they wanted a little privacy, then that was all right. But most of the guests considered it impolite not to circulate freely, or to have sex behind closed doors.

  If a guest didn’t want to drive home in the wee hours of night, or if he’d had too much to drink, then he was welcome to spend the night.

  Vaughn’s sexual contacts up to then had all been strictly one-on-one. He found the idea of a three-way provocative enough. The thought of having multiple sex partners in one night was little short of mindboggling.

  He agreed to come to the next party. “What can I bring to help out?” he asked Darren.

  “Your libido,” his new acquaintance replied. “Just show up good and horny. My buddies will love to meet you. And I can promise you, you’ll like them.”

  Nearing his destination, Vaughn was more than good and horny. He felt ready to explode with pent-up need.

  Finally, Vaughn turned onto the unpaved track leading to one of the isolated farm properties. According to the directions he’d been given and the map he’d brought along, this was where his cyber buddy Darren lived. Passing the mailbox, Vaughn saw the name and address on it, which confirmed he’d come to the right place.

  The old clapboard farmhouse, which was beside an apple orchard, had its front porch and several of its ground-floor windows brightly lit up. A few of the upstairs windows glowed with a much softer, rather mysterious warm yellow light. Vaughn saw a half-dozen vehicles—two cars, two pickup trucks, a van, and a motorcycle—already parked in a neat row on the grass near the front of the house.

  Vaughn parked his truck at one end of the row and walked up to the porch. He rang the doorbell, and a moment later Darren came to the door. Vaughn recognized him at once. His host greeted him with a broad grin and a hug.

  “So glad you could make it, Vaughn. I finally get to meet you face-to-face.”

  “Same here.”

  “God damn. You’re even better-looking in person than you are on the webcam.”

  “So are you.”

  “Aw, I bet you say that to all the guys you hook up with through the Internet.”

  “I don’t exactly make a habit of doing things like this,” Vaughn protested. “Tonight—my coming here—it’s kind of special for me.”

  “Yeah? Then I’ll make it my business to make it really special for you. You’re not nervous, are you?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “There’s no need to be. You’ll like the other guys. You’ll get along just great with them. Hell, we’re all here for the same thing. No need to be embarrassed. Come on inside.”

  Darren led Vaughn inside the house. Vaughn saw that it was a sizable structure, a relic of the days when farm families tended to be large because of the need for labor. Back then many farms had live-in hired help as well.

  Darren didn’t farm his land himself. He’d told Vaughn that he leased the fields to neighboring farmers. Between that income and some money which he’d inherited and had invested, he lived comfortably without actually working. But it now occurred to Vaughn that it must feel strange at times to be a single guy living all alone in such a big house. No wonder Darren enjoyed entertaining.

  The long dining room table served as a combination buffet and bar. Quite an assortment of liquor and wine bottles was on display. The food included pizza and wings, sandwich fixings, several side dishes, and a few mystery items in lidded chafing dishes with lit tea candles set under them to keep them warm.

  Vaughn saw the coffee can Darren had mentioned. It was already filled with fives, tens, and twenties. Vaughn took a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and added it to the kitty. He didn’t want to be cheap, and he’d be willing to pay more than that to get laid.

  The guests were sitting or standing around in small groups, talking as they drank and ate from paper plates, using plastic utensils.

  “It’s self-service,” Darren told Vaughn. “Help yourself to the chow. If you want a cold beer or a soft drink, they’re in the fridge in the kitchen, that way.” He indicated a hallway leading toward the back of the house. “Hard liquor’s available if you want it, although to be honest, I prefer my guests not to get too smashed. Then I’ll introduce you around.”

  An informal dress code seemed to be in effect. Boots, jeans, T-shirts, and denim or plaid shirts were the preferred attire. Even indoors, many of these men retained their baseball caps. Whether these men lived on other farms, or in the small towns in the area, they all seemed to cultivate an agrarian or blue-collar look. Vaughn, who’d taken Darren’s advice and dressed just as casually, decided that he fit right in.

  One by one, he met the other guests. He was aware of a warm, welcoming ambience in the house. It was almost like being in a small neighborhood urban gay bar, where the regular patrons knew one another. Vaughn was intrigued to find himself in a gay gathering way out in the middle of nowhere. It was giving him a whole new insight into the potential pleasures of rural life.

  Darren introduced Vaughn to a stocky but hard-muscled number named Grant.

  Grant’s handshake was a dead giveaway. His palm and the pads of his fingers were calloused, as were Vaughan’s.

  “Let me guess,” Vaughn said. “You work on a ranch, too.”

  “I sure do.”

  “So you two have something in common,” Darren remarked.

  “Yeah. We’re both gay. Or so I assume!” Grant joked.

  Darren laughed. “I hope you men are horny,” he said.

  “I can’t speak for Grant, but I was born horny,” Vaughn bragged.

  “Good for you. Go have something to eat and drink. Like I told Grant a moment ago—the party, I mean the real party, doesn’t officially start until eight o’clock, so we have about twenty minutes to wait. Excuse me, guys. I have to make sure everything’s ready upstairs.”

  Vaughn and Grant sampled the buffet. Among the cold items were a macaroni salad and a potato salad, both filling. The chafing dishes turned out to contain noodles with meatballs, hot dogs, baked beans, sauerkraut, roast beef for the sandwiches, and thick slices of ham with pineapple rings.

  “Everything’s delicious,” Vaughn declared.

  “Well, eat up, because there seems to be plenty of everything,” Grant said. “Darren always provides a good spread. And I don’t believe in fucking on an empty stomach. A guy has to keep his energy level up.”

  As they ate, Vaughn and Grant chatted with the other guests. Grant seemed to have at least a nodding acquaintance with most of them, no doubt from previous parties, and he introduced Vaughn to them. Some of the guys, Vaughn learned, had driven considerable distances to get there. One man had come all the way from Calgary, driving south and crossing the border.

  “These parties of Darren’s can get kind of wild,” the Canadian informed Vaughn. “I always have a good time here—and I end up going home with a limp dick, and a smile on my face. I wouldn’t miss one of these for anything. It’s better than a trip to a bathhouse.”

  The front doorbell kept chiming at intervals, as more guests arrived. In Darren’s absence, whoever was nearest to the door acted as doorman.

  Vaughn estimated the total head count was closer to three dozen than two.

  A few more men arrived before the eight o’clock deadline, and Darren, who had come back downstairs, greeted them.

  “Are you having a good time?” he asked Vaughn.

  “Couldn’t be better.”

  “You think so? Wait a little. I’d better go mingle,” Darren said. “I want to make sure everybody feels at home. Once the fun starts, though, I expect you to save a place for me on your dance card.”

  “I will,” Vaughn promised. “Looking forward to it.”

  Vaughn didn’t have to wait long. Darren produced a large and loud cowbell, which he rang to attract the guests’ attention.

  “Okay, men, it’s eight o’clock,” Darr
en announced. “Time to get this party rolling. It looks as though everybody’s here. I’m going to lock the front door and turn off the porch light. Any stragglers will have to wait to be let in. And those of you who’ve been here before all know the rules. I’ll run through them quickly. Let’s try to confine all the sexual activity to upstairs. The door that’s closed and locked is my bedroom. The other three bedrooms are The Orgy Suite, as I call it. There are two bathrooms, upstairs and down. Drinking upstairs is fine. And feel free to use any toys you find lying around. But no smoking inside the house, please. Step outside if you need a nicotine fix that bad, or if you want to smoke some weed, and be careful where you throw the butts. We don’t want the Fire Department to come here and interrupt us—not that some of our local firemen aren’t hot,” he added, which earned him a few laughs.

  “And no barebacking,” Darren insisted, sounding more serious. “I don’t approve of it, and it’s my house, my rules. I have boxes of rubbers set out all over the place upstairs, so make good use of them. That’s all. So let’s get naked, and get right down to it. Ball your brains out, men, with my blessing.”

  His speech was greeted with cheers and applause—followed by a general stampede in the direction of the hallway which led toward the rear of the house.

  Chapter Two: Getting the Ball Rolling

  “Where’s everybody going?” a puzzled Vaughn asked his host. “I thought all the sex is going to be upstairs?”

  “It is. The regulars know where to leave their clothes, though. Looks like they’re in a hurry to get the ball rolling. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Darren and Vaughn followed the other men down the hallway. They passed the open door of the downstairs bathroom. Next to the kitchen was a sort of mud room, with a door leading to the back porch. Several items of Darren’s outdoor wear hung from wall hooks, and two pairs of his boots were tucked under a wooden bench. But the most striking feature of the mud room was a row of a dozen free-standing tall metal lockers, the kind found in the locker rooms of gyms.

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