on ice
The only sound Clint could hear was his own breathing as he stood in darkness, the scent of leather coming through his nose as he felt the leather-wrapped tightly across his face. The smooth side of the leather hood was cool when it first tightened around his face, but now his head is heating up, and the sweat is sticking to the leather as the warmth increases the scent.
Pausing his breathing for a moment, Clint listens to hear any sign of the man who pulled the padded leather hood over his shaved head. It had been a while since the hood was slid down over his head, covering his face, removing his sight and filling Clint's lips with a wide and deep pecker gag that slid through a grommet hole in the face of the hood. The hood was just the beginning of a session with a stranger that Clint had only met on the internet.
While not aware of what the time is, it seems that Clint has been standing in one position for a very long time. Believing it to be much longer than the two hours that Clint had thought he would be in bondage.
The surface that Clint was standing upon had become unstable as time progressed, making it a struggle for Clint, as he is wearing a pair of Wesco Jobmaster boots that are tightly laced on his legs. The boots had been custom made with a taller heel than normal to cause some balance issues to the wearer. The heel was thick with the Vibram sole that created a heavy thumping sound as he walked to the spot the Stranger wanted him to stand as he was tied into tight rope bondage.
*******
Arriving at the warehouse in the industrial part of town, Clint found the place damp after a day of heavy rains. Parking his blue Dodge Ram next to the door that was in the photograph emailed to him, Clint looked around to see there was no one around. The building didn't have much exterior lighting. With the cloud cover blocking any moonlight, the structures took on a life of their own by their size. Sighing, Clint got out of his vehicle, stepping into a puddle with his brown round-toe Ariat boot. The dirty water was deep enough to soak into the bottom of his black Wranglers that were stacked on the boot. With no choice, Clint brought his other leg out of the car and soon was standing in the puddle, pissed for not looking where he had parked.
Pulling his jeans up on his waist, Clint shut his vehicle door causing a sound that echoed between the other buildings. An email had instructed Clint to dress casually, which he did, wearing his Wranglers, along with a button-down patterned cowboy shirt and a denim and fleece Levi's jean jacket, brown gloves on his hands, he had put on a black felt Stetson after exiting his truck.
Clint thought he would make a good impression since he liked Western clothing, and the Stranger from their online chats talked a great deal about cowboy-style bondage. Both shared a few fantasy chats that were intense at times, each of them jacking off while wearing their boots and chaps sitting in the bedrooms. Through more and more text sessions, their connection grew, and now Clint is here to meet the Stranger. After receiving the instructions of where they were going to meet, Clint put the address in Google, seeing that the location was in a commercial section of the city. Seeing the location caused some concern in Clint, but the chats had been good and horny, so he took a chance. Now, here he is, standing in a puddle of dirty water in his Ariats, about to meet that Stranger for the first time.
Pulling the warehouse door open, the squeaking of the door made it seem like Clint was stepping into some slasher movie as the sound drifted through the interior of the warehouse. Looking into the building, the space was vast with the sound of dripping water landing on concrete and into puddles from leaks in the ceiling. A few fluorescent lights provide some illumination, causing everything to be seen in grayscale. Some light flickered as Clint looked down to the floor to see a rope made out of hemp with the end starting just before where he stood.
Clint visually followed the rope that extended before him into darkness far into the warehouse space. Bringing his gloved hands together, Clint looked around one more time, then proceeded to step forward, his Ariats stepping on the floor mixing with the dripping sounds that filled the enclosed space.
Moving through the space, following the rope, Clint must have traveled one hundred and fifty yards into the main part of the building. As he moved forward, there was a doorway that looked like a small room with a golden light. The rope was leading Clint to that small room, which made Clint more confident that he was going the right way. Clint looked at the floor as he partially stepped into a pothole in the floor.
Gaining his balance, Clint returned his gaze to the illuminated room.
Suddenly, there was the silhouette of a figure standing in the doorway, Clint figured it was the internet stranger as the Stranger stood with his arms crossed, the light backlighting him. Stepping closer, the Stranger's head was lowered, causing the black cowboy hat that the Stranger wore to hide the man's face. Continuing to step forward in his cowboy boots, the warm light from behind the Stranger was filling in details, allowing Clint could make out that the Stranger was dressed like a real cowboy. Black leather fringed chinks hung from the man's waist ending at the knee, exposing a well-worn pair of starched blue Wranglers that were tucked into a pair of tall custom-made traditional cowboy boots with pointed toes and riding heels. The boots were very ornate with spurs on the heels that were crafted with very sharp points on the rowel.
So far, Clint has been enjoying what he was seeing of the Cowboy. Still standing in the doorway, the Cowboy was wearing a huge silver buckle on his belt with a black denim shirt tucked in and a leather vest on top of that. The Cowboy's gloves were buckskin with long fringe and red kerchief wrapped around the Cowboy's neck.
As Clint was about to enter the doorway, the Cowboy stepped out of the doorway, and Clint entered the room as the light was much brighter than what was in the warehouse. Looking around the smaller room that must have once been an office, Clint finds that the Cowboy is nowhere to be found.
Pausing for a moment, Clint sees some gear sitting on an old desk. Next to the desk are two gold plastic office chairs that have aged over time. Looking around to see if the Cowboy was watching, Clint realized that he was alone. Clint approached the desk sensing the space was much warmer than the warehouse had been. Looking at the desk and the gear, Clint sees a note that is handwritten with very fine calligraphy that looks like it had been composed in the late nineteenth century.
To continue our encounter, you are to suit up in this gear. When you are finished, you will turn away from the door you stepped through, put your hands behind your back and cuff your hands with the iron manacles that are on the desk. Once secured, close your eyes. Do not open your eyes until you are instructed to open them.
Clint flipped the note over to find there were no further instructions.
Dropping the note on the desk, Clink looked over the gear on the desk, which was a full wardrobe made of leather. The manacles looked rusted and old. Clint could feel his cock getting harder in his black Wranglers. Clint started undressing.
*******
The Cowboy kept a steady eye on Clint as Clint was standing tall in bondage. There was a little movement from Clint as he balanced wearing the tall custom-made Wesco boots, the lasso tightly wrapped about Clint's body. The hood kept Clint silent in darkness, able to breathe through two small grommet holes built into the hood. The rope was tight, and Clint was secure as the Cowboy was not lenient when binding his new captive.
*******
Standing naked in the bright room, Clint picked up the first piece of gear that he had been instructed to put on, a pair of side lace leather jeans. Constructed of leather in a rich brown color, Client slid his feet through the legs of the pants, which became snugger as he pulled them up to his waist. Buttoning the waist of the leather pants was a chore as the pants were skin-tight. Zipping up the pants, enclosed Clint's hard cock behind the soft, rough leather inside of the pants.
Sitting in one of the worn chairs, Clint pulled on the Wesco Jobmaster leather boots without socks. Tucking his leather pants into the boots, Clint started lacing up the tall, rust-colored Wesco boots, pulling the laces tightly, then wrapped the remaining lace several times around the top of the boot. Standing, Clint lost his balance slightly as the heels on the boots were taller than what Clint was used to.
Once Clint was comfortable standing in the tall boots, he reached to the desk, grabbing the leather shirt that was made of lightweight black leather that was designed like a denim shirt. Sliding the shirt up his arms and over his chest, the shirt snapped up front with pearl snaps with a Western yolk on the shoulders and chest pockets. After tucking in the shirt, Clint ran a brown hand-tooled belt through the loops on the waist of the side-lace leather pants, buckling the belt with a large silver buckle that had a lasso design on it in gold on a silver background.
Two more pieces of gear were left on the desk, a leather jean-style jacket and a pair of well-worn brown leather gloves. Both went on quickly as Clint grabbed the manacles and pivoted to face away from the door that he had entered. Moving his hands behind his back, the warmth of the room was bringing out the scent of the leather Clint was wearing.
One moment of hesitation, thoughts of what could happen filled Clint's thoughts. He was about to become helpless in an abandoned warehouse wearing tight leathers that he was ordered to put on. Taking a big breath, Clint got the first manacle around his wrist, holding the other in his hand.
The Cowboy somehow provided gear that fit Clint tightly. Clint could feel his pecker growing as it was straining against the tight brown leather of the pants, no doubt creating a visual bulge that the Cowboy would certainly notice.
As Clint was standing in the tall, heeled boots, thinking about the pleasure of the tight leather and his hard dick, he closed the second manacle. Now trapped with his hand behind his back in heavy iron manacles, Clint felt a twinge in his cock as his submission had no turn back. Standing in tight leather, tall boots, manacled in a dank, abandoned warehouse, Clint wondered how long it would take for the Cowboy to return.
*******
The leathered captive was adjusting his weight as his legs were strained by the tall heels of the Wesco's. Sometimes, his legs would wobble, then Clint would lift his leg to stretch, and the pain would cease. Clint was not prepared for the length of time the Cowboy had left the manacled captive stand alone in the former office. There was the temptation to look behind, but Clint didn't want to get caught by the Cowboy not following the orders he was given.
As Clint was focused on the soreness of standing for a long period, it took a while before he heard the sound of the Cowboy's spurs echoing outside the room in the vastness of the warehouse. As the Cowboy entered the brightly lit former office, the sound of the solid cowboy boots was combined with the metal of the spurs. Then the sound stopped, just the sound of dripping rainwater. Clint felt the light breath from the Cowboy float on his neck, followed by the Cowboy leaning in, running his fringed glove hand down the back of Clint's neck, which caused goose-bumps under the leather that Clint wore. The sensation was erotic as the Cowboy certainly knew how to manipulate the touch on Clint's skin.
The Cowboy wrapped his hand around the neck of the manacled captive.
The Cowboy closed his eyes as he brought his other gloved hand and together closed them around Clint's neck. The Cowboy enjoys the light pressure he is exerting on Clint's neck, making the captive's breathing more difficult. The grip was just enough to let the manacled captive know that he was no longer in charge.
The Cowboy's gloves curved around Clint's neck, going front to back, the leather warming on the neck and Clint moaning slightly with the sensual feeling of the gloves on his neck. Through the leather of his buckskin gloves, the Cowboy could feel the pulse of his captive, who just stared forward, allowing the Cowboy to keep Clint standing. Pressing a little tighter, Clint started to struggle with his breathing, which caused his body to move in bondage, wanting to reach and remove the Cowboy's hands from his neck. There was some light choking coming from Clint as the Cowboy immediately removed his hands, then grabbed the captive as Clint swayed, nearly falling forward after the release.
Clint's focus on standing in the restrictive bondage is broken when he senses the Cowboy placing a full leather hood over the captive's head. The hood is lined in smooth leather making it two layers that will encase Clint's head and face. As the captive is plunged into darkness, the Cowboy manipulates the hood to settle properly on the captive's head. The hood has no eye holes as two grommet holes align with Clint's nose to provide him unfettered access to the damp air in the warehouse. There is a larger grommet hole at the lips of Clint as the Cowboy starts pulling the laces tight on the hood. This process keeps Clint unsteady as the Cowboy is rough in bringing the back of the hood closed, encasing Clint in the hood.
Once the hood is tightened, Cowboy pushes in a small, rounded leather pecker gag that fits through the grommet hole and keeps Clint's tongue in place. That is followed by a thick leather collar that keeps the captive's head held high. The collar is locked in the back making sure that the hood can't be removed until the collar is unlocked.
Now that the hood is secured, the Cowboy runs his hands over the leather, pausing his right hand over the nose holes to allow Clint to take in the leather of his glove and reduce the air that the captive can breathe. Clint feels the leather tight against his as his cock is stretching against the leather of the pants he is wearing. The Cowboy keeps his hand over the hood, controlling the breathing of the captive, while looking down to see the boner that Clint has in tight leathers.
As breathing becomes labored for Clint, he starts to struggle, the Cowboy wrapping his arm around the captive, holding Clint tight as the captive moans into the gag that fills his lips. Suddenly, the Cowboy removes his hand, allowing the captive to breathe again.
"Be careful there, cowpoke; you don't want to crash to the hard floor." States the Cowboy as he steadies Clint, then lets's go, watching the captive breath heavy in the leathers.
As Clint works hard to maintain his balance, the Cowboy grabs the captive again, lifting him off the floor and moving him to a spot where there is a large block of ice. The ice has a small piece of thin wood on the top. There is a puddle developing, a the ice has been melting as the small office is much warmer than the rest of the warehouse.
Clint feels helpless as he is moved by the Cowboy, the captive not liking the feeling of being held by the Cowboy. Once the Cowboy sets the captive down, the Cowboy pats his captive on the ass, squeezing the leather pants that tightly encase Clint's ass.
Checking all the knots that keep Clint tightly bound, the Cowboy moves around the captive and then stops, standing in front of Clint. The Cowboy reaches around the captive again, this time lifting him and placing him in the center of the block of ice. Once the tall-heeled Wesco boots settle, the Cowboy slowly removes his hold, making sure that Clint is now balanced properly on the small piece of wood that lays on the ice. Taking a small step backward, the Cowboy keeps his arm out just in case the captive starts to fall.
In his darkness, Clint felt the Cowboy lifting him, but he was unaware that he was standing on the block of ice as his ankles were tied, and he couldn't move to feel the edges of the block. Balancing on the tall heels of the boots is difficult, but Clint keeps his focus and maintains his sense of balance as he feels how tight the bondage is in his skin-tight leather pants.
Confident that the captive is going to be ok, the Cowboy grabs one of the office chairs that were left behind, sliding it across the floor to where the captive stands on ice.
Clint stands alone in the darkness, tightly bound, gagged, hearing only his own breathing. He feels that the Cowboy is pulling something over the hood, moving it to settle around the captive's neck. The leather of the hood extends down Clint's neck, and a thick strap of the collar, which the Cowboy locked after placing the hood.
The Cowboy positions the thick rope around the neck of his hooded captive, setting the rope just below the chin of the captive. As the rope is set, the Cowboy starts tightening the rope as the tension allows the rope to stay underside of Clint's chin. As the Cowboy tugs on the rope with his gloved hands, Clint can feel the thick hangman knot brushing against the cheek covered in leather.
Clint breathes in heavily as he comes to the realization that the Cowboy has put the helpless captive into a noose. Struggling some, Clint knows he can't escape the bondage, nearly losing his balance. The Cowboy wraps his arms around the legs of the captive, making him steady.
As the Cowboy tightens the noose a tad more, Clint realizes his cock is getting harder in the leather jeans. The expansion of his hard pecker is now visible by the Cowboy, who brings his hand down to tap the leathered crotch and provide a little stimulation to the captive. This causes the captive to squirm away from the slaps, challenging his balance and now feeling the noose that is positioned on his neck. The taps stop, and Clint finds his balance again, his breathing through the holes in the hood slightly labored because of the actions of the Cowboy.
There is silence again as Clint stops his breathing to hear what is going on in the space around him. Clint feels the air getting warmer as the leather-encased parts of his body and head are sweating. The leather scent of breathing through the hood changes as there is the faint smell of cigar smoke mixing with the leather. Soon, the cigar smoke is much stronger, causing Clint to cough lightly inside the hood. It is as if the Cowboy is blowing the smoke purposely into Clint's leather-covered face.
"How you doing in there fucker?" asks the Cowboy as Clint hears the Cowboy's deep, slightly raspy voice for the first time. "You look hot-tied up in all the leather, hooded and helpless. I just had to light me a cigar and enjoy your struggle."
Another puff of smoke is blown into Clint's face, causing him to cough again.
"You are right where I want you, and you and I are gonna have a small race. You must be aware now, and I will confirm that I have put you in a noose. Just like the old days, this is a nice cotton rope that I have used for many years. Since we both like the Wild West, I thought you'd get into this game."
There is a slight tug on the noose as the Cowboy grabs it with his gloved hand to let his captive know that he is in charge of the tension. Then, the Cowboy continues.
"I’m going to sit back in my nice leather chair here, enjoy my cigar and watch you struggle.”
With a short, evil laugh, the Cowboy moves closer to the captive, “Now, here is the fun part. Remember when I picked you up after hooding you? You’re standing on a block of ice. I put a piece of wood down to make it steady for you. I’ve turned the heat in this space to rise slowly, which is going to melt the ice. And guess what happens as the ice melts?”
Clint becomes aware of his precarious situation, realizing that the noose will tighten as the block of ice melts. His body will lower with the melting, which will cause the noose to tighten. This scares the shit out of Clint, as he starts pleading to be released. The Cowboy hears the muffled begging from inside the hood, looking up at the hooded head, the neck with a noose wrapped around it. The Cowboy has an evil smile as he takes a long drag on his cigar. The Cowboy lifts his hand to lightly rub the leather crotch of the bound and helpless Clint, feeling Clint’s cock pumping against the tight leather of the side-laced jeans.
Gently patting the leather-encased dick, the Cowboy speaks, “You hang in there fucker….oops, didn’t mean that literally.”
The Cowboy chuckles and moves to his chair. The sound of his leather sliding against the leather of his chair fills the room. Lifting the footrest up, the Cowboy’s boots rest on the leather as the Cowboy takes a puff of his cigar, enjoying the sight of the leather-encased, hooded, captive in tight bondage, trying to balance on the ice block, just waiting for the noose to start pressing and reminding him just how fucked he is.
*******
The rainwater was still dripping in the large warehouse Clint could hear it through the two layers of leather that was snuggly wrapped around his head. Drool had started to pool in his mouth and dripped from behind the leather pecker gag that was pushed through the grommet hole to keep his tongue secured. Beyond the rainwater, Clint could hear the creak of the rope rubbing against the thick leather collar that was slowly tightening around his neck. As the rope was pulling, Clint’s head was tilting to the left, allowing for more pressure on his neck.
Still able to keep his booted feet on the small platform, the ice has been melting on all sides. The puddle of clear water is expanding across the floor as he sways slightly when his feet sometimes move as they get sore from being on his tiptoes the heels of the boots no longer touching the woods.
In the darkness, Clint maintains his somewhat restricted breathing, wondering what the Cowboy is doing as the captive hangs in the empty office. Once and a while the captive can sense the Cowboy’s cigar floating in the damp air that Clint breathes in. This was not the experience that Clint thought he would have when he was driving to the abandoned warehouse district. But each moment that noose tightens and Clint hears the creak of the leather, he feels his dick leak a bit more pre-cum while maintaining its erection.
The tension had been building for nearly two hours for Clint. As the block of ice melted, his balance became uneven as the ice wasn’t melting uniformly. As the block was disappearing, Clint found his breathing becoming more labored. Even with the thickness of the leather collar that was attached to the hood, Clint was being choked. He had given up pleading to be released from the bondage, as he quickly learned the Cowboy had no intention of letting Clint free. Clint’s focus was now on maintaining his balance as being only able to touch the toes of the boots made him waver as the small piece of wood was unbalanced.
The Cowboy just sat in his thick leather recliner, enjoying his Cohiba cigar that had a quarter of it left. With the view of Clint before him, the Cowboy takes his cigar and holds it before him, watching the small whiff of smoke rise in a single stream toward the ceiling of the abandoned office. Seeing Clint barely staying in place with his booted toes touching the wood piece that sits on the top of the ice, the Cowboy can see the tautness of the noose, Clint’s hooded head bend over the white rope that wraps over the black leather of the collar and hood. With Clint’s hands in the manacles, they droop, hanging against the belt that loops through the side-lace leather jeans that are tucked into the Wesco’s.
Occasionally, there is a moan or a deep inhale by Clint to fill his lungs as he nears the point where the ice will have melted beyond where Clint can keep his balance. This is what the Cowboy had been waiting for. Feeling the excitement in his cock, the Cowboy unzips his leathers, fishing his eight-inch cock out of his leather pants with his gloved hand. The cock is nicely framed by the edges of the Cowboy’s chinks, the flesh standing out against the leather pants the Cowboy wears.
Putting his cigar back into his lips, the Cowboy takes a puff, smoke rising as the Cowboy uses his right hand to slowly stroke this hard pecker. Using the leaking pre-cum, the Cowboy’s juices start to soak into his buckskin leather with slow up-and-down action.
As the Cowboy pumps his cock, he sees the first slip by Clint as the captive’s toes slip off the board, and it falls to the floor, leaving the surface of the remaining ice for Clint to try to stop his swinging at the end of the noose. There is the helpless struggle coming from Clint that causes the Cowboy’s dick to tense and harden, as it is the action of a man being helpless that turns the Cowboy on. With the kick of his booted feet, a grunt and heavy breathing are coming from inside the hood.
Clint sways slightly as he tries to connect his booted feet that are tied together to the surface of the ice. With his breathing becoming labored, Clint snorts at times, trying to fill his lungs with the leather, smoke-filled air that allows him to continue to struggle helplessly as Clint knows there is no way to break the manacles that bind his wrist. Sweat is pouring down his brow as the hood is humid and tight against his face. The ropes are tight as they keep his arms and legs bound and useless. Clint can feel his weight pulling him down as the rope around his neck tightens slowly, remind just how fucking helpless he is.
Suddenly, arms wrap around Clint as the tension on the noose loosens, and the captive falls heavily to the ground. The Cowboy guided Clint’s body to the dirty wet floor allowing the Clint to land on his side, Clint’s lungs able to freely fill with air again, now with the earthy scent of mold and mud.
With his cigar settled on the right side of his lips, the Cowboy looks down at the helpless, leathered captive and smiles. There is a temptation by the Cowboy to kick the captive with his pointed boots, but the Cowboy decides on a different plan.
While lying on the wet and dirty concrete, Clint rolls back and forth, struggling to get his wrists loose from the manacles. The Cowboy blows a cloud of smoke toward the captive’s head, then reaches over, lifting Clint so that the captive is now sitting on his ass. Clint feels the muddy water soaking into the leather of his side-laced jeans. With a big grunt, the Cowboy lifts Clint to his booted feet and slides the captive over to one of the well-worn office chairs.
Dropping Clint into the chair, the Cowboy makes sure the captive’s arms are over the back of the chair. As Clint steadies in the chair, the Cowboy removes the gag that had been filling the captive's mouth, revealing a one-inch grommet hole. The Cowboy runs his gloved hand across Clint’s hooded cheek and lightly strokes the cheek to show some warmth towards the tightly bound captive. There is a moan of relief from Clint as he hopes that he will soon be released from the intense experience he has been put through.
The Cowboy then reaches up towards his cigar, taking a few more puffs as the cigar is over eighty percent gone. Taking his cigar into his gloved fingers, the Cowboy smiles as he sees the damp, dark tobacco of the end that has been in his mouth. Rolling it with his finger and thumb, the Cowboy lowers the cigar and pushes it into the grommet hole of the glove. Clint struggles as the cigar fills his lips, and the captive struggles with his breathing then calms as he focuses on breathing through the nose holes on the hood.
Having never smoked before, Clint coughs as the smoke and the taste of the cigar start to fill his lungs and mouth. The Cowboy has an evil smile as he watches his captive deal with the cigar, still bound tightly, unable to remove the cigar.
Lowering his head to be near Clint’s right ear, the Cowboy speaks, “You did a good job with that noose, partner. I enjoyed the struggle, so you will live another day.”
The Cowboy grabs Clint’s shoulder and tightens his grip to send a signal, letting the bound leathered captive that Clint did a good job entertaining the Cowboy. “It’s almost time for me to leave. I’m going to place the key for the manacles into your right hand. How long it takes for you to get out of those iron restraints is up to you. But remember, you’ll have the cigar in our lips until you can reach for it.”
With that comment, the Cowboy places a key with a small fob on it in Clint’s gloved hand. The Cowboy strokes the captive’s body, pressing heavily on Clint’s leather-incased crotch feeling Clint’s hard pecker trapped in the leather.
Gripping the fob tightly, puffing on the cigar on his lips, Clint hears the Cowboy’s boots stepping away across the wet concrete and echoing as the Cowboy enters the large warehouse space.
The sound disappears, and Clint is alone in the warehouse, hearing only the dripping rainwater. Unable to see, Clint works slowly with the fob and key, thinking in his head of how to find the hole to insert the key into the rusty iron manacles that he put himself into.
*******
Sitting alone in his truck, Clint turned off the engine and reflected on what he had experienced. Glad to be home, he ran his gloved hands down the leather side-lace jeans that he put on before meeting the Cowboy in person. He was wearing all the gear the Cowboy required.
After it took a long while to finally escape the iron manacles, Clint realized that the Cowboy had gone and left the clothes that Clint had worn when he arrived. There were no instructions to leave any, so Clint kept the leathers on. The noose was lying on the dirty, wet floor, and Clint decided he would take that also. As Clint lifted the noose, he held it in his hands, looking at the well-crafted knot. As he stared at the knotted rope, he wondered why he wanted to keep the rope as it was a painful and scary experience being noosed. Still, there was a part of the former captive that wanted something to remember what he had been through. There is also the fact that when Clint returned to his truck, he realized that he had creamed his leathers, releasing a large load of his own seed, which scared him as Clint learned he was kinkier than he thought.
After entering his home, Clint was in no hurry to remove the leather, even though the pant were still wet from the water and stained by his cum. Placing the leather hood on his desk, Clint had the urge to see if the Cowboy had left any messages.
The computer screen lit the dark office room as Clint was kneading this hard cock through the leathers with the dirty gloved hand. There was a notice of an email that Clint saw was from the email address that the Cowboy had communicated with.
Clint moved the mouse and then clicked on the file, opening to show a video link was attached. When the video opened, there was Clint, hooded, standing on the ice, in bondage, the noose pulling tightly around his neck. The camera never showed the Cowboy, but there were puffs of smoke that would come into the frame at times.
Watching the video, Clint leaned back in his office chair, unzipped the leather jeans, fishing out his cock that leaped from the leather. Taking his manhood in his gloved hand, Clint found himself jacking off as he watched himself hang lower and lower in the noose as the ice was melting.
Clint never reached the end of the video, as he was so fucking horny, he shot his load a second time with a large grunt, his dick oozing streams of his seed down his cock and pooling on his skin and the leather opening in the pants.
As he caught his breath, Clint clicked to respond to the email from the Cowboy. He wrote a short note to thank the Cowboy for the experience, as it had been unlike anything he had ever faced. Clint finished the email with a comment that perhaps they might meet again, and then Clint hit "Send".
Reaching for some tissue to clean his seed, Clint heard the email program announce that new mail had arrived. Looking at the email, Clint saw that his email to the Cowboy had been rejected, stating that no email address existed.
Sitting up in his chair, with his softening pecker still exposed, Clint went to the chat program that he had used to communicate with the Cowboy. There, he found that the Cowboy’s profile had been deleted.
Sighing, Clint realized that the Cowboy only wanted to use him once and then moved on. Like a hired gunslinger, the Cowboy finds his victim, extracts his use, and moves on. Clint looked at the noose that was sitting on top of the hood upon his desk. There was now a need to feel that noose again.
Would Clint find himself another hangman to use that noose in the future and do that dance of mercy that he did with the Cowboy?