Ridden West Ch. 04: Utah

The Utah ranch, although one of the richest ones in the territory, wasn't a bed of roses for Billy. Mostly it was the boredom that got him. Bryan was nice to him and kept him in the main ranch house. If he'd sent Billy to the bunkhouse, he knew Billy would be fucked silly and would be no use to him.

That meant that Billy was only fucked three times a week, and not always successfully—certainly not for long—even then. Billy had been trained to regular, rough sex, and he didn't object to it. He hadn't objected to the life of a whore other than the out-of-bounds beatings during sex and the smell of some of the men. He hadn't been raised to have any contrary sense of morality and the moral authority in his life, Jeremiah, had treated him like a whore and pointed to it as Billy's natural place in life. He had conditioned himself to the impersonal, indifferent nature of being fucked in a whore house by a succession of men and even enjoyed the rough sex it often entailed.

Billy grew restless with the polite, fatherly, nearly sexless attention the old man gave him in the ranch house. There was no indication that he was anywhere near California or would be able to go there anytime soon. Barnes's promise of money didn't pan out. The rancher said he was paying Billy and he showed Billy that he was putting money for him in a strongbox every month, but the strongbox was going in Barnes's safe. The rancher obviously was terrified that his one chance for a regular fuck and ejaculation, such as they were, hinged on Billy being there and being willing. If Billy took his money and ran, Barnes would be left without his need being met.

After a couple of months, Billy got some relief, though. One day Larry trapped Billy in the woodshed and fucked the stuffing out of him. Larry was a rough fucker, using a bit of fist play to soften the man he was fucking before mounting him and then enjoying some choke play while he was pumping. Billy went with it—gladly—Larry was the only one within reach who could make him feel anything now when he was fucked. A bit of pain was worth someone who could ride him hard and deep for twenty minutes and seemingly hit up into his stomach with the strength of his ejaculations.

Once inside Billy that first time, Larry's knees under Billy's buttocks, the young man's bruised torso reclining back on the dirt floor of the shed, both men breathing heavily, Billy lay immobile, recovering from the blow to his jaw that had dazed him and made his torso fall back. The preliminary struggle over, Larry had started to pull Billy's channel on and off his cock with strong, calloused hands grabbing the young man's hips. Billy had gone up on his elbows, given Larry a look of lust and need, and started to move his pelvis to meet Larry's thrusts with counterthrusts of his own.

Larry's anger rose. This was the saucy little piece who had captured his father's attention and who lived in comfort in the ranch house, while Larry slept with the other men in the bunkhouse.

"Fuckin' little slut," he muttered through clinched lips. He grabbed Billy by the throat, backhanded him hard in one direction and then in the other direction. He released Billy's throat, and the young man fell back onto his shoulder blades again. Larry fucked him harder and deeper, as with half-glazed eyes, Billy turned his head, smiled a little smile, and murmured, "Yes, yes, fuck me hard. Punish me." Being fucked rough brought more arousal out of Billy, and it had been so long since a man had taken him this hard. And of course he was a slut; he'd been conditioned to be a slut, a whore. The way he had survived that was to come to enjoy having a moving cock inside him, the sting of a slap on his check or buttocks.

And Larry's young, thick, vigorous cock was divine when set against three minutes of a tediously achieved erection and a weak squirt from an old man.

Fuck me hard, fuck me long with your young, vigorous cock; fuck on and on, Billy implored Larry silently. Give me a split lip, a black eye, a bruised rib as you thrust inside me thick and virile and hard. It all sends me up on the clouds. The pain heightens my arousal. It tells me I'm still alive, despite how men like you take their pleasure off and release their anger and frustration on my body.

Yes, I'm a slut, he wanted to cry out, as he set his hips in countermotion to Larry's thrusts, Larry too far gone in the fuck to notice it—or to care—this time. But I'm a slut because a parade of men like you wagging your cocks at me and sticking your dicks inside me have made me a slut. Billy pulled his chest back up to press it into Larry's heaving chest, and this time Larry's response was to embrace the younger man closely, to seek out Billy's lips, and go into a brutal kiss, including chewing on Billy's lower lip, drawing blood. Billy jerked away from the kiss, panting hard. He ran his tongue over his lip and tasted the blood. The blood told him he was alive.

This time he was the one to plaster his lips to Larry's and to open his mouth wide, giving entry—welcome—to the tongue plunging inside, gagging him. With a low rumble coming up from his belly, Larry turned Billy on his back and slapped the young man's legs apart, still possessing Billy's mouth with his. Billy dug his heels into the dirt of the floor, thrusting his pelvis up into position for the long, hard slide of the cock inside him. Larry immediately started pumping hard, his head arching back in a howl to the rough wood of the shed ceiling as he blasted Billy's passage with his cum.

Billy tried to struggle up, but Larry backhanded him again so that, as Larry stood above him, buttoning his britches and looking menacing down at the blond whore, Billy fell back, near exhaustion, to the floor.

Not near enough to exhaustion after three months of frustration of the old man not being able to keep it up.

Undaunted, Billy whimpered, "Don't leave. Fuck me again." He elevated his pelvis again, pushing off on his bent legs, signaling the want for the cock again. Yes, I'm a slut, he was yelling in his mind. Men like you made me. He'd had nothing but three minutes three times a week from an old man for months.

Larry smiled cruelly. He slowly unbuttoned and pulled his cock out again, wagging it at Billy.

"So, you want me again."

"Yes, yes, please," Billy murmured.

"You want me, not the old man."

"Yes."

"Just so we both know how it is. Tell my father about this and I'll cut your balls off." He laughed, stuffed his cock back in his britches, and turned and left the shed. His anger was assuaged; his dad's fancy piece wanted him more than he wanted his dad. Larry could see the situation with amusement and from a position of superiority now.

Billy lay there, half buzzed, panting hard, and staring at the young stud who had taken him to hell—and to heaven. He was hard. Sucking on his cut lip, he reached for his cock and masturbated to a rerun in his mind of all Larry had done to him in the cruel, "fully alive" taking.

Life on the ranch wasn't great even after that. But Larry found him and fucked him at least once a week, so Billy had something to think about when he was washing the supper dishes and sweeping out the ranch house. After that first time, Larry wasn't as rough, though. He didn't want to leave any marks his father would see and then come to him about. His father had declared Billy off limits. And his father still held the deed to the ranch. But, more than that, Larry had established that Billy wanted his cock more than he wanted the father's.

And then Bryan suddenly, without warning, dropped dead. As his heart burst at the moment he dropped a massive load in Billy's ass channel, he died a happy man. He not only dropped dead, but he left a written will dividing the ranch between Larry and Billy.

When Larry found out, he burned the copy of the will that was in the house, but he was worried that there was another copy at the lawyer's office. The lawyer had been out to the ranch a couple of times in recent months.

Larry was panicked. With Bryan still laid out on the bed in his bedroom, Larry grabbed Billy, beat him down to the floor in the middle of the living area, fucked him hard and cruelly there, and then dragged the young many out into the dirt in front of the ranch house and called for a couple of horses. When they arrived, and with the ranch hands interested in what Larry proposed to do also mounting up, Larry threw Billy, his wrists bound in chains Larry had pulled out of the barn, belly down, over the back of one of the horses, and they all rode out onto the range to where a cattle birthing pen was fenced off. They tied Billy to the fence, his arms thrown over the top and his feet barely touching the ground, and Larry let loose the cowboys on him, letting anyone who wanted to fuck the young blond had as many goes it would take to kill him.

They had barely started on him, though, when a gaunt stranger in a worn suit rode up and spoke in a strong voice.

"That there's my son. I'll pay you fifty dollars to let him loose and let him come with me and another ten dollars for that there horse for him to ride."

"If we let him go, he can't stay anywhere around here," Larry declared.

"I'm taking him back to Kansas. Is that far enough away for you?" Jeremiah Atwell said, taking the money out of a slit in his belt to show to Larry and the ranch hands. "Sixty dollars is a might better thing to have in your hand than the risk of a rope around your neck, I would think," Jeremiah said. "You kill the boy and you risk the rope—all of you."

Larry Barnes agreed with him. An unconscious Billy was released from the fence, thrown belly down, over the back of the horse he'd been brought here on, and his journey, once more as essentially Jeremiah's sex slave, back to Kansas began.

* * * *

They rode for no more than an hour when Billy started to come to.

"Hello, world," Jeremiah said. "You can show your appreciation to me for gettin' you out of that fix in a short while. Figure we should stop by that stream over there to water and feed the horses, get you into some clothes, and put your butt rather than your belly on that horse's back. I got somethin' that will fit you, but it should be washed and dried. We can fill our bellies too."

Jeremiah stopped his horse in a stand of birch trees next to a stream, pulled Billy down from his horse, and pushed him down on his butt and back against a rock outcropping.

"Can you get these chains off me?" Billy asked, raising his wrists to show Jeremiah that he was bound.

"In a minute or so. You just stay put there. There are chores to do first. Remember that. The chores always come first."

He opened one of the packs on his horse's flank and came up with a pair of breeches and a flannel short, both wadded up. Wading a few steps into the stream, he washed them and then came out of the stream. The water had been only a couple of inches deep where he'd walked. His boots were watertight enough to keep his feet dry. He beat the clothes against a rock outcropping and then stretched them out in the sun there to dry.

Then Jeremiah made a fire and put a coffee pot taken from his pack on it.

"Now for the appreciation," he said as he came over in front of Billy and started unbuttoning his fly.

Chores first and fucking second, Billy thought. Now I remember. "The chains?" he said, lifting his bound wrists for Jeremiah to see. "I can't give you proper attention chained up like this."

"Well, all right," Jeremiah said, helping to unwind the chains and tossing them to the side. "Now spread them legs for me. It's been a long time. Too long."

"Sister Mary—" Billy started to say, as he complied, reclining back, spreading his thighs, and rolling his pelvis up.

"Sister Mary ain't on God's green earth anymore," Jeremiah said. "I had a time of it findin' you again, I'll have to say. And all thanks to her too. She done got what she deserved."

Billy shivered, not wanting to think about what might have happened to Mary Atwell. Jeremiah knelt down between his thighs with a grunt, grasped his buttocks, a cheek in each hand, and raised Billy's pelvis more. He was inside and pumping with another grunt. No conversation transpired as he fucked Billy. Billy closed his eyes and took it without a sound. There had been so many men inside him since the last time Jeremiah was there. He hardly felt a thing at first. There were few men who could make Billy feel anything in a fuck anymore. The last one had been Larry Barnes, and Billy didn't want to think of him.

But then, entering his mind, were the memories of Jeremiah from earlier, Jeremiah being his first, taking his time to seduce Billy and then holding him close, kissing his neck, throat, cheeks, and mouth tenderly that first time he was inside Billy, while Billy's sobs subsided. Jeremiah whispering of his love and gratefulness and of how he was going to take care of Billy forever as he slowly started to pump and Billy trembled under him, awash in the mix of pleasure and pain—and of the revelation, from his orphan consciousness, that here was a strong man who wanted him, wanted to be one with him so much he was inside Billy, a man who would take care of Billy. Knowing that the way to be loved by this man was to have Jeremiah's cock filling and moving his passage.

Billy started to move his hips with Jeremiah, falling into the rhythm of the fuck, and he clutched at the man's massive, moving chest. His mouth went to the flared front of Jeremiah's white shirt, and his tongue slid through the matting of the chest hair, searching and finding a taut nipple.

"We'll have none of that you little whore," Jeremiah growled, rearing back from Billy. "I see there's a lot needin' relearned on how to act proper here." He slapped Billy across the face, and, with a whimper, Billy allowed his shoulder blades to fall back on the rock, he turned his head to the side, moved into his "just another cowboy fuck" world, and lay yielding to but not involved in Jeremiah's fuck.

Jeremiah spilled his seed, pulled out of Billy with another grunt, stood up and buttoned himself up, and went looking for a slab of cured bacon to fry on the fire.

He was standing up from the fire, an iron plate in his hand with sizzling bacon on it, when he spoke next. "Here's some grub. It will give you strength and maybe more energy than you had last time. After we eat I'll fuck you again, and maybe you can show me some more appreciation when I . . ."

A funny expression came over Jeremiah's face. He dropped the plate and pitched forward, face into the ground. The shafts of two arrows were lodged in his back.

Before Billy could cry out or anything, four Indian warriors rode into the clearing on sleek horses. They wore only loincloths and moccasins and had feathers in headbands, one more of a feathered headdress than the others. And although all were hardbodied, the apparent leader of the band was a magnificent specimen of manhood. It wasn't clear whether any of them saw Billy or suspected he was there. Coming off their horses, they gathered around the body of Jeremiah and stared down at him.

Taking the only opportunity he knew he'd ever have, Billy jumped up and ran for the nearest horse, which was one of the brave's horses. Pure adrenalin enabled him to vault on the back of the horse. He dug his heels in the side of the horse to get it to bolt and gallop away.

The leader of the braves was as fast as Billy, and filled with more adrenalin, because, before the horse could take off, he had vaulted on the back of it behind Billy, and the two of them were plastered against each other. Billy could tell that the brave was enjoying this, because he went hard in the small of Billy's back as the horse raced across a scrub plain.

Pitching Billy's body forward, the brave got his cock under the crease in Billy's bare buttocks. He grabbed the sides of Billy's chest on either side, with Billy pushed over and clutching the horse's mane in his bound hands. The brave's hard cock entered Billy's ass, and the savage let the buck of the horse as it galloped across the ground move the cock inside Billy's ass in a pumping action.

The horse made a big circle and galloped back into the clearing. The brave had shot his load inside Billy before they arrived back where the other three braves were waiting. The leader of the band pushed Billy off the horse into the arms of the three braves, who guided his descent to the ground, slapped his legs open, and beat and fucked him into unconsciousness.

When Billy came to, he was spread-eagled, still naked, on his back under the withering sun out on the edge of the scrub field and staked to the ground. The braves were gone.

He was found there by the scout from a wagon train three hours later.

"Well, lookee. What do we have here?" the man said, as he came off his horse beside where Billy was staked. "Dead or alive. Alive I see and, say, aren't you that new whore from the saloon in Cedar Hill? Wanted to have you when I last was through there, but couldn't afford it."

"Please, can you release me? Indians got the man I was traveling with—over by the stream there."

"Man take you off for a private little fuck party, did he?"

"Please, can you release me?" Billy pleaded through parched lips.

"There should be some sort of reward for that, don't you think? Don't you look pretty all staked out like that and spread apart? Makes a man's cock stand up and salute, it does—knowin' that you're a whore anyway. What say I get a bit of privilege first and then I'll help you out."

"Oh, fuck, all right," Billy muttered in exasperation.

"Yep, that's the word all right."

"What word?"

"Fuck. You say it nice and pretty. Fuck me please. Fuck me, Clem. Then I'll do it and release you."

"Fuck me. Fuck me, Clem. Please," Billy said through clinched teeth. What the hell. So many men had fucked him that this didn't mean much.

"Oh, sweet Jezuss!" Billy called out as, kneeling between his legs, Clem clasped their two cock together and stroked them until, keyed up by the attention the savages had given him, Billy released his cum, only to have it captured by Clem's hand and smeared on Billy's hole, where Clem teased the hole by swirling his cock head just within the entrance in the lube of Billy's come.

Billy was writhing to the extent the spread-eagling was permitting under the teasing of the cock.

"Please, please," Billy whimpered. "Stick it in. Give me your cock! Fuck me!"

Clem laughed. "See, you whores aren't the only ones with moves."

He grabbed his cock and slapped it around on Billy's thighs and belly, with Billy whining for it, and quite suddenly he took it in hand and thrust it inside Billy's hole up to the root. Billy cried out and strained at his bonds, as Clem pumped him hard for about twenty strokes and then stopped, holding still, until the urge for both of them to come had passed.

Clem took his time, pumping and then stopping when he came close to shooting, and then pumping again. He was just ejaculating when the first of the Conestoga wagons of the train was coming into sight. Quickly pulling out of Billy, buttoning up, and reaching over to free Billy's wrists and ankles, he muttered ominously, "Not a word of this to anyone. You do and somewhere between here and California, I'll but a blade in your ribs."

The word that thundered into Billy's brain was "California."

"This wagon train going to California?" he asked.

"Sure is," Clem answered.

Men were gathering, holding what women there were back so that they didn't see the body of Jeremiah by the stream or the naked body of Billy. They were babbling among themselves and plying Clem and Billy with questions, when a familiar voice rang out over the hubbub.

"He's hurt and needs attention. Bring him up into my wagon here. I'll take care of him."