An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 3

By Alex Ironrod

The sound of the chinking spurs and the thud of the barn door told the leather-bound Aggie Jack Thomson that Ranger Brad Steenbeck was back; he jingled his spurs in response. “Wait, boy, while I get things into place,” snapped the ranger. He heard something heavy being pushed into the open space, and then Brad, clad again in tight black leather chaps, high Dehner boots and different western spurs, came into his limited view.

“Right, let’s get my young stallion ready to be finally mastered.” Jack was untied from the post and clumped in his Dehners, enmeshed in leather from harness to chaps and boots, still bound and gagged, to a padded bench, and then forced down on it. His booted and spurred feet were strapped far apart to the bottom corner of the bench, and his body pulled so that his aroused penis slid into a hole cut for the purpose.

Then his wrists were loosened from around his neck and shackled to the opposite corners of the bench. Two straps forced his chest and waist into the leather-like top of the bench, and the reins from the bit gag were shaken loose around his head. Brad walked around, checking the bindings and stroking his butt and the horsehair tail plug growing out of it.

The ranger moved away, returning with a narrow wooden bridge with a saddle cinched on top, which he proceeded to bolt on top of the bench. Jack could scarcely see what was happening in his tight bondage, but Brad came round to his head, swinging a crop in one gloved hand and rumpling his hair with the other. “I think I’ve broken you in far enough that I can now go on to your first lesson under saddle. It will be short and very sharp.”

With that he gathered up the reins, jerking Jack’s bit gag up in his mouth, and swung up and into the saddle. He seized the reins in his left hand and turned the points of his spurs inward. This pair had longer rowels with sharpened edges, which cut into the boy’s sides, as his master settled in the stirrups. So that was the reason for the bridge – to raise the man up sufficiently above the boy to allow the spurs to find their target in the bound body and the reins to force the bitted head higher off the bench, so there was an illusion of movement. The leathered legs drove the spurs in; the crop reached back to hit the victim’s buttocks and to jerk the ass plug and its bushy tail, and the bit-gag and reins tormented the bruised mouth.

Attacked from three directions at once, the Aggie groaned, humped and twisted, but the rider easily mastered him, raking him with the sharpened spurs along his sides, and thwacking his butt. Jack thought he was losing his mind; he was being bent into an animal, a spirited steed for a Texas Ranger. After about fifteen minutes, Brad stopped and dismounted; the boy’s head and mouth ached from the pulling on the reins, and his sides were bleeding from the spur action. “I’m breaking you down, cavalry-cock, into my creature. Now it’s fucking time, with the usual warm up,” growled the ranger. The horse tail plug was pulled out, some lube applied to the hole and the crop started work on the raised buttocks.

The victim hissed and panted through the bit, tossing his head as Steenbeck delivered twelve of the best and then moved himself and his thick prick into fuck-position. Pushing open the cheeks with his gloved hand, he shoved his member into the entrance, moving it around for a covering of lube, and then bored straight in.

The ranger, gathering up the reins and the crop in his hands, bucked his tool up to the hilt, driving himself forward, now beating the bound back and jerking on the reins. Jack admitted defeat – and felt a strange acceptance – the large cock mercilessly and silently split him open once again; the man’s sweating body humped his heated and beaten ass; the reins forced him back onto the prick and the crop laid further stripes along his back. His own member, in its little hole underneath him was leaking pre-cum as he jerked and twisted his bound arms and legs. Two sets of western spurs jangled along the floor.

Suddenly the ranger grabbed the reins tight in both hands, forcing the boy’s head even higher, as he began to climax. “Fuck, what a pony you make, boy,” he panted, “here comes my fucking man juice into your fucking hole.” And he shot his full load, and his sweating, furry chest fell forward onto the victim’s lacerated and harnessed back.

They lay entwined, gasping and groaning for several minutes, until Brad’s member shrank down and out of the jism–laden hole. He pushed himself upright, shoved the horse tail plug back in place and loosened the biding straps and chains. The bruised body lay there, then suddenly jerked up as Jack’s excited penis rose from its dark hole and spewed cum over his harnessed chest and the top of the bench. “Like master, like boy, in the performance department. You’re learning fast. Here, lick up some of your cream.” But the bit gag was in the way and the Aggie ended up with it smeared across his face and hair.

“Never mind, it’s time for bed. You can sleep in the house near me tonight. Come on. Jump to it,” he slapped Jack’s rosy ass, “this way I get to see your stripes when I wake.” The ranger grabbed the horse-hair tail butt plug and frog-marched him forward into the house and into the room with the brown leather covered bed.

The Aggie looked at himself in the full-length mirror – leather harnessed and leather bitted, in leather chaps and leather boots – with whip and spur wounds.

“Yea, now you look like something I would want,” commented Brad, as he slapped a pair of leather cuffs on the boy’s wrists and hoisted his arms up to attach to a chain and hook in the ceiling. Then he produced the shining black leather hood and forced it over the grunting and protesting head, smoothing leather over eyes and gagged mouth, before fastening it to the leather collar. As the laces were tightened in back, the rich smell of Jack’s leathers and his cum drying over his body compensated him for his bruised and blooded sides and butt. The harness enclosed him tightly and the chaps and boots encircled his legs.

Suddenly the ranger pulled him against his matted chest and kissed the hooded mouth, holding the leather head in his gloved hands. “I’ve broken you to my will and I’ve bent you to my body,” Brad murmured, and the boy whispered through the hood and the gag “Yes, master. Thank you, master.” And they ground their leathered bodies together, pricks stirring once more. “Hang there proud, boy, where your master can see you and touch you.”

The Aggie man consciously straightened himself up and clicked his booted heels together, sending the jingle-bobs dancing on his spurs. “I want your cock to remain erect and hard, so let’s leather-tie it to the bed rail. And your balls need to bear some weight to stretch them properly,” muttered Steenbeck, performing the binding and dropping a parachute harness over the ball sacs with a 3lb weight. The boy, already hanging high from the ceiling, scrabbled his feet to regain his balance and gasped with the new pain, as he twisted in the leather cuffs and the harness shifted round his body.

He could feel the ranger walking round him, the spurs clanking on the hardwood floor; hands tightened the knots on the hood, checked a buckle here, tightened a strap there, rotated the butt plug a couple of times and twisted his nipples for a couple of minutes. “Goodnight, my well-fucked boy. Get some rest.”

Jack slumped in his darkness, as he heard the bed creak, the spurred boots fall to the floor, the creak of leather clothing being removed and finally deep regular breathing, with an occasional snore. Was he only a leathered animal or plaything for the older man, or was some deeper feeling creeping in on both sides? He sighed and his body shook gently, alerting his prick in its leather bonds and jingling his spurs. And then he did rest.

Suddenly he woke, as the riding crop revived the painful stripes on his ass and added some fresh raw ones. “Good morning, Jack, a brief warm-up before I honor you with being fucked on my bed,” remarked Brad cheerfully. “I’m going to lower your arms and free your penis, so that you can slide onto the bed.” The leather cover soothed his beaten back and butt, as his hands were lashed widely apart to the headboard, and then his booted feet in their leather chaps were pulled up and over his head and anchored close to his hands. His hot hole was vulnerably open, as the butt plug was yanked out and a pillow was shoved underneath him. Then gloved hands unlaced and pulled off the hood, and he gasped and gurgled through the bit gag in the early morning light. “I want to see your eyes as I penetrate and probe you – and I want you to see me, as well as feel me this morning. I want to see our reactions.”

And Jack gazed at the black leather chaps and vest, which left exposed the thickness and the length of the prick which was to prong him. He’d never noticed that Steenbeck had piercing brown eyes and a scar in the cleft of his chin, or the size of the gloved hands, which unrolled a rubber onto the fully erect cock, and then guided it into his hole with one hand, while the other grasped the back of his head. The butt plugs had made penetration easier, but Jack still struggled in his new fastenings, the spurs sending out a discordant rhythm, as his Dehner boots beat against the headboard.

The ranger’s face came closer, as his tool sank in, inch by inch, and their joined bodies radiated heat and sweat. The penis was fully in the saddle, as paroxysms of pain and pleasure played across the boy’s face and his groans joined the other’s panting breaths. The ranger’s sweating mouth closed over the boy’s gag; his tongue snaked out to lick the tight leather bit and to add its saliva to the mouth. As Brad’s tool climbed up and slid down the chute, his hands tweaked the Aggie’s tender nipples. The boy bucked and gurgled at the fresh pleasure/pain, and the man kneeling over him increased his rhythm in tune, his balls banging at the entrance to the hole.

One hand now held the tousled head in a vice-like grip, forcing eye and mouth contact, while the other caressed Jack’s own rampant prick. Their leathers creaked, their spurs chimed, their eyes glowed at one another with lust and excitement. They sweated together; they groaned together; they panted together, and finally they came together, Brad gasping as his cum rose up and coursed into the Aggie’s passage, and Jack moaning with the cum load up his chute and his own arc of jism shooting up and spraying both their chests.

They were joined and became one. They hung together, exhausted, Jack bent double under the weight of the ranger, who eventually slid his penis out, wiped it across the boy’s swollen and gagged lips and heaved himself off the bed. “That was an excellent fuck session, son, and I’m proud of the way you’re learning to take me all the way in, and, from that expression in your eyes, you’re starting to enjoy it. Now I’ll release your boots and you can rest, while I shower and change, and then we’ll have breakfast.” Jack’s legs fell down on the bed, leather chaps on leather cover, and his spurs rang as he stretched himself.

Suddenly Brad clanked back into the room. “There’s a car coming up the road. I don’t have time to hide you properly, so I’ll put you under this cover, and lock the door. Don’t make a sound – not that you can do much with that bit in your mouth and your hands still tied .” A few minutes later, the Aggie heard a truck pull into the yard and stop. Voices could be heard, the ranger welcoming at least two newcomers into the house. He was talking, as they came into the adjoining living room, “Of course I’m happy to help, if I can, Sheriff, but I haven’t seen a college student out here in the last two months, let alone two days. Who is he again?” A younger voice answered “His name is Jack Thomson and he’s a senior at A & M – about your height, not as broad. I’m a friend of his, and we’ve been looking for 36 hours.” “We found his car abandoned with hoof marks around it,” a deeper voice took up the story, “and, late yesterday, we found his campaign hat in the hills a mile or so away, so we’re checking the nearby ranches.” “OK, Sheriff, you’re more than welcome to look around,” replied Steenbeck.

Jack tensed his body; his arms were still bound to the headboard and his mouth was filled with the leather bit, but he could raise his legs and bang his boots and spurs on the board. That would bring everyone in, but, even as he thought it, he suddenly realized that he didn’t want to be rescued, at least not this way. He wanted to stay with Ranger Brad Steenbeck and follow his tough love and forced obedience to the end. So he remained still, not even allowing his jingle-bobs to sound.

“Well. Sheriff, I suggest we check the barn. He could have dossed down there for the night.” The Aggie could hear the group moving back outside. “Now what’s this about a campaign hat? Is the kid wearing some kind of military uniform?” The front door banged shut, and Jack relaxed, baffled, yet excited, by his decision. And he didn’t even know whether he was welcome to stay here.

About five minutes later, he heard shouted farewells, as the truck was driven away. Boot cleats and spurs clattered across the house and the door was unlocked by an ebullient ranger, “Fucking hell, son, you were terrific. I didn’t hear a sound and wasn’t that the friend you wanted to phone when you arrived?” Brad leaned over the bed, unbuckling the black bit and untying the aching arms. “What came over you? Anyone would think you didn’t want to be fucking rescued.”

The two men gazed intently at one another, Jack rubbing his wrists together, still leathered and harnessed; Brad, curious and anxious, still in work shirt, jeans, boots and spurs. “I want to stay here – with you – and finish this tough training, if you’ll allow it, sir,” the boy spoke for the first time in 36 hours. “Keep you – keep you permanently, as my – what? Son? Mate? Toy-boy? Slave?” “Whatever you want, sir, I’m yours to command,” Jack smiled at the expression on Brad’s face. “Keep you; of course I want to keep you and to fuck you. Come here, son , and we’ll seal the bargain.”

The Ranger pulled the Aggie to his feet, squeezing him in a tight embrace and thrusting his tongue into a now receptive mouth. “Only tell me why, son?” “I want to smell your leather around me, smell and feel your hot cum up my passage, feel and touch your strong prick as it prongs me, touch and feel the leather and rope you bind me with so tightly, experience your tough love and let it master me – and, one day, I want to join you in the Rangers,” the boy explained.

Later they showered and crapped on Brad’s command, and then had breakfast. He had dressed the boy in his best black leather – shining harness, chaps and boots with the jingle-bobs, while he wore his work-a-day leathers. After coffee, he sighed, “Jack, I want to keep you with me always, and fuck and beat you regularly, but you need to go back to A & M, to finish your degree. It’s only for a few months and that degree would make you more valuable as a Ranger.” “But I want to stay with you – in whatever form you want.” “That isn’t possible. I’ve got to go back on duty on Monday. You have courses to follow. We can get together at weekends. I can teach you to ride properly – maybe even Sierra – that’s probably best for both ” “But I want to live with you, to take more of your tortures. It’s not like it was with Mary-Louise – this is hard and rough, yet worth the pain.”

“No, if you want to be a ranger, you have to accept orders and obey them. We’ll keep you here for a day more and treat your bruises and cuts, and then we’ll dress you in those dirty cavalry clothes and make up some shit about your being lost in the hills.” “You’re the master and, of course, I must obey, but I want one more massive fuck session before I go back – with everything – whips, ropes, leather, plugs, those clamp things and your prick rampaging in my hole – and no gag, so that I can yell out loud,” demanded Jack. Steenbeck laughingly agreed.

Then they talked about their future together and their turbulent pasts. Jack came from a wealthy, but loveless family, which moved frequently and where the father was absent on business most of the time. His only friends were those he had met at A & M, companions only, nothing more.

Brad had a more violent past. A Ranger for ten years, he had been married briefly, but spent too much time at his dangerous job. He and his partner had been caught in cross fire in a stake-out in Austin five years before. He’d been wounded in the back and in the chin; his partner had been killed in front of him. He had recovered physically, but mentally and sexually, he was a blank; a senior ranger finally got him drunk one night and introduced him to leather man-sex. It brought him back from despair, but his path had been lonely and had to be disguised from his other colleagues.

He had found temporary partners for fucking sessions and temporary relationships which foundered on the beatings and restraints. Nothing more. “So you see, son, why I want to proceed cautiously to build a proper long-term relationship.” “We’ll both work at it,” enthused Jack. “Now the sun is going down, and it’s fucking time. Can we do it outdoors?” “Well, I could tie you to the supports to the porch out front. Let’s get ready.” Jack was left in his harness and chaps, boots and spurs, with a butt plug added and the cock-ring put back on. Brad appeared in his brown leather work chaps, boots and jingle-bobs, carrying “a few extra toys for the evening.”

He moved the Aggie into position, pulling up and tying off each wrist to the uprights on the porch, facing him outward, “so you can holler to your heart’s content. I’m hanging you high, and binding your feet and ankles together, so that you’ll swing free for me.” Jack’s cleated boots barely touched the wooden floor, and he was already struggling to keep his balance, as the ranger tweaked his rosy nipples, pulling and roughing them up with his black gloves, before clamping first one tender tit and then the other. He grasped the connecting chain, as Jack screamed. “Sure you don’t want a gag? You may need it when I paddle you. I just want your ass warm, and I don’t want whip weals. Here it comes!” The Aggie man grunted, shook his head and gritted his teeth. The blows were lively and stinging but raised no stripes.

Jack began to shout in the evening air, “Five, six, seven, eight….. Fuck, let’s stop the paddling. My butt feels fucking hot enough…. Yes, sir, I know you’re in command. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Thank you, sir…. What are you doing with your hands? Ouch, I can feel the lube going in…. I like your strong arm round my head, master….Come on, prong me, impale me on that long rod….ohhh, shit, I’d forgotten how thick your prick…aaaah, it hurts, aaah, you’re forcing me apart…..shit, shit, shit, I can’t take any more …. Oooh, ease it further in…slowly….you’re filling me up to the hilt….No, don’t take it out……Aaah, aaah, for God’s sake, stop….pain…… you’re killing me…..how can you do this….urgh, it feels good to have you slide like a snake up my passage….here, let me lean back and help you……oh shit, my prick is waving like a fire hose……oh,oh,oh,you’ve sunk right in again….hold me, let me feel your warmed chest and body. Wind your leather legs around me….Fuck, I’m swinging in the air on the end of your prick….Oh, God, I’m hoisted up – it hurts, it feels wonderful… don’t let it stop….Come on , hump me harder….harder…fuck me, fuck me, fuck me my master…..Ah, your glove feels good on my tool;yes,squeezeit…tighter..Oooch, gotta catch my breath…I feel your balls against me….Oh, I’m going to cum…hold me tighter, yank my chain. Shit, that hurts my tits….let me buck back against your pole….Master, master me….fuck, I can feel you coming. Bang me, blast me, fill me, fuck….I can feel your warm man cream firing up my fucking chute …it’s great…oh, shit, I’m coming too….aaaagh… Christ what a fucking…thank you, thank you sir.” Jack stood swaying in the open air, panting, his cum leaking down his chest, still held together by the man’s member, the ranger who gasped and held the harnessed and bound body close.

Brad cut the boy down and pulled him into the bedroom, scattering paddle, rope, rings, plug and spurs as they went, unbuckling chaps, pulling off boots until they collapsed near-naked on the leather bed. “Glad you enjoyed most of it, son. You certainly made enough noise. Now a quick shower together to scrub off sweat and cum, and then you sleep with me tonight.” Soon after, Jack, warm and clean, slid into Brad’s arms under the leather throw, and slept dreamlessly.

The next morning the ranger forced the pace – breakfast; the Aggie man back in his crumpled cavalry uniform, with belt and dirty boots and grimy Prince of Wales spurs; Brad firing up his truck to drive Jack back to college; developing a yarn to explain their connection and finally arriving on campus. “Remember, son, I’ll always want you, take care of you, get you galloping over the hills, teach you to enjoy country pleasures, such as whipping and fucking. Here’s a memento – and a promise for the future – your own pair of jingle-bobs, much better than those sissy spurs. I’ll see you at the weekend.” “ Yes, sir, thank you, sir. I’ll get to work and pass these courses with honors – all for you, my master. I think I love you, sir.” They smiled, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, and clasped hands firmly. Then he drove away, back to the open hills.

THE END

© Copyright by Alex Ironrod 2021. All rights reserved.

If you enjoyed this story, tell the author at alex-ironrod.com

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One thought on “An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 3”

  1. Fantastic story, especially with reference to leather, got me seriously hard reading it even though I’m not into pain.

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