Chapter Thirteen #2
I gazed up at this banshee that was going to take everything it wanted from me without a qualm and thanked God I’d made the decision to accept Adam’s offer to come to the Braided Crop Ranch.
Not for the career advancement or the voyeuristic opportunity to catalogue the outrageous amounts of kink that went on here, but because this moment of debauchery by the man who had already stolen my heart was something I had needed for a long time.
My mouth opened on a groan as Puck placed his hands over mine and arched his back, lifting up in a serpentine twist and sliding back down, making my cock think it had died and gone to heaven.
It had. Puck’s body was a holy shrine. I lay there with wide eyes and parted lips, praying silently to the sweaty priest above me.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he growled. “Your cock feels like a torpedo. It’s fucking perfect.” He rocked on my dick, causing ripples of sensation to shoot up through my whole body.
“Puck, Puck,” I panted, gripping his knees, trying to ground myself when this was getting out of control too fast. “Oh, my fucking God. Puck!”
“What? You gonna come?” He laughed, maintaining his rhythm as his dick bounced in the air, shiny with his arousal.
“I—I—” I stuttered, as the pleasure increased and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Puck’s skilled writhing pulled it out of me as easily as a man uncorking a bottle, and with another breath I exploded, my body stiffening as lightning shot from my balls and rolled out my cock. “Aw, fuck. Fuck! Oh, fuck.”
I made the most embarrassing noise as I came, gazing wide-eyed at the glory that was Puck doing aerobics on my cock and smiling like he’d known all along I was his bitch but had waited until this moment to show me.
He sat down hard and jerked his cock so viciously I worried he’d take off into the air. Instead, his breath hitched, and he came, cock shooting all over me as I throbbed inside of him, his throat issuing a long, intense groan as he gave himself up to it.
For long moments, we lay there blinking at each other, letting the intensity subside and the real world break in.
“What…the fuck…was that?” I whispered. “Am I alive?”
“Seems like it. That was the Puck wants to fuck you into the ground special. You like?”
I sighed, still scrambling to rearrange my brain cells. “I don’t think like is the…right word.”
“Well, you survived it. That’s something.” He smirked, flicking some jizz onto my chest with his finger. “I did a Pollock on you. Sorry.”
I glanced down at where Puck’s spunk had splattered onto the skin of my abdomen, then met his gaze. “No, I like it. I love it even.”
He grinned. “You dirty, dirty man. And here I thought you were after me for my brain.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “On a pony-play ranch?”
Puck laughed. “Okay. Well, sure. But you have to admit, I’m smarter than most of these dudes.”
“Well, you’re more of a smart-ass, that’s for sure.”
Puck slid off my dick and propped himself on his elbow. “I don’t think you should be maligning my ass after it just sent you spiralling through the Milky Way.” He swirled a bit of cooling jizz with his fingertip.
“Fine. I take it back.”
“Oh, you’ll take it front and back if I want you to.” Puck realized how ridiculous he was starting to sound and cackled a laugh. “Sorry. I’m a bit punchy right now. That was…epic.”
“Yes, it was.”
He twined his hand with mine as we gazed at the roof of the shed.
“We should really attack this place with a couple of brooms if we want to keep coming here,” Puck said.
“There are a lot of cobwebs up there. Probably tons of spiders.” I sighed. “What if one drops onto me?” I started to get up, but Puck held onto my hand tightly to prevent me.
“Then I will vanquish it in a blaze of fury.” He rolled onto his side and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’ll protect you, Oliver. Always.”
*
ON FRIDAY, ADAM and Kamal set up a projector that I could connect to my laptop in order to show everyone a selection of the best images.
Since the weather forecast was clear the communal supper was postponed until eight, so we could watch the slideshow of the photos when the sun started to go down around nine o’clock.
I was excited. I was pleased with the photos, and I hoped they impressed everyone, particularly Adam, Kamal, and one ponyboy in particular. The ponyboy who kept shooting me shy glances and winks when nobody else was looking.
Puck had hung out with Lincoln and Alex during the meal, keeping his distance from me.
I didn’t mind. I knew that even though we weren’t fooling Adam or Kamal, and likely the other ponyboys realized there was something going on, Puck got a kick out of the fact that we were fucking behind everybody’s backs.
I kind of liked that, too, although it was starting to feel a bit ridiculous to deny what was so obvious.
But if it made Puck happy, I’d keep up the ruse.
Once darkness fell and the meal had been cleared away, I connected my laptop to the projector, and Kamal clapped his hands together.
“All right, all right. Settle down, you hooligans. It’s time for a presentation.”
“Yes, SIR!” Someone called out. I was surprised it wasn’t Puck.
There was general laughter. But everyone did settle down, and Adam took over from Kamal.
“As you know, Oliver has been at our kinky ranch on an important assignment. And that assignment is to capture what he can of our day-to-day activities, in as artistic a way as possible, so we can post these photos to our website and social feeds in order to let people know what to expect and what the Braided Crop Ranch is all about.”
Everyone applauded and a couple of people whistled.
“Tonight, we have a selection of the most…delicious…images that I think I’ve ever seen. Oliver has taken this assignment and run with it, producing a plethora of incredible photos starring”—he gestured at the crowd of ponyboys and trainers—“all of you.”
Again, applause and laughter filled the night air.
“But nobody will know it’s you as we have been extremely careful not to reveal any identifying features in these photos. This also leads to a wonderful sense of universality and timelessness in the images, which adds to their appeal. But enough talk. Let’s get started.”
Adam nodded to me and I projected the first image onto the wall of the main house.
Gasps sounded, along with muttered curses.
I’d chosen this particular photo because it captured the sense of restraint and submission required in the arena, when a ponyboy was ready for his training session and waiting to be taken in hand.
The ponyboy in the photo was Lincoln, but that didn’t signify at all.
The shot of his arms pinioned by the leather armbands, the back of his head as it bowed, with the metal buckle of the ball gag light against his dark hair, and a glimpse of the scuffed toes of his Docs over his shoulder, gave the viewer the impression of a supplicant awaiting orders.
It was an affecting shot with the background out of focus and the black leather accoutrements of the regular tack sharply defined.
I took a breath and clicked through to the next one.
It was a close-up of a cock in the steel cage.
I was the only person who knew it belonged to Puck.
The photo was incredible, with the shine of the steel echoed in the sparkles of pre-ejaculate that dripped from the bulging red tip.
A glistening pearl of fluid was stretched toward the bottom of the shot but remained connected to the glans by a spider’s silky thread.
Someone groaned. Someone else said, “That is so fucking hot.”
I clicked through to the next shot, which was the image of Kamal’s hand in mid-act of pumping a ponyboy’s cock in reward. Everyone here could tell it was Kamal’s forearm and hand by the dark hair that grew in delicate whorls there, but people who weren’t frequent clients of the BCR wouldn’t know.
I heard Kamal’s soft laughter and his muttered, “Jesus,” as the ponyboys cursed again.
“I’m gonna need Kamal’s assistance after this slideshow,” Joshua said.
Kamal turned. “I don’t give out freebies. You have to work for that.”
I risked a glance at Puck. He seemed riveted to the photo, his back straight and hands curled at his sides. But he side-eyed me and quirked his lip in acknowledgement, nodding briefly.
Image after image clicked by, detailing the life of the ponyboys at the Braided Crop Ranch in vivid colour—in the grooming barn and arena and out in the fresh air of the paddock.
I’d included the shot of Puck pissing into the grass that I’d taken that first morning, and when it went up I heard him gasp.
The photo had been taken from the side and only the folded material of his jeans could be seen, outlined by the golden rays from the early morning sun.
An ethereal cloud of vapour collected in front of him, looking like something out of a fairy story and not the result of Puck’s warm piss hitting the cold grass.
“Jesus, Oliver,” he said. I glanced over, worried I’d upset him by sharing this private moment.
But his gaze met mine with awe and subdued appreciation. He stood and walked to me. My finger froze on the laptop key as Puck gracefully lowered himself into my lap, surrounded me with his arms, and nuzzled into my neck.
A comforting warmth spread from Puck’s languid body sharing its heat with me, and also from his public show of affection and the soft clapping of the watching crowd.
Laughter and muttered sentiments such as, “Finally” and “I told you so” wrapped us with acceptance and kindness.
I took my hand off the keyboard and folded my arms around him, kissing his cheek and whispering words of gratitude into his ear for claiming me in front of everyone.
I didn’t know what the future held for us beyond our time at the Braided Crop Ranch.
But I was determined to find out if this powerful thing between us was as significant as it felt.
Because I knew by that point in my life that a connection this strong, this intense, and this unrelenting was something to hold onto with both hands and a whole, fiercely beating heart.