Hey all.
Some more games with love from Burt
Chapter 3
Burt woke up hearing the birds singing just as the dawn broke. He propped himself onto his elbows and looked over to where his victims were, right where he left them.
Mighty and meek Lambert snoring into his gag, and fierce and ferocious Lionel already squirming around in his blanket cocoon.
Burt wandered over to Lionel; he looked down into bloodshot eyes. Lionel must not have slept a wink. The struggling probably continued right through the night.
“Hey, champ. Take a gold nugget from your brother, learn to relax.”
The words seem to renew Lionel’s vigor, as the struggling intensified.
I need to take care of that, pondered Burt, but first some breakfast.
He prepared the embers from last night and restarted the fire, placing the can of baked beans in the flame. While waiting for it to heat up, Burt got dressed. He had his breakfast and set a plan in motion to teach Lionel the lesson of his life.
Burt headed to a small open patch of dirt and proceeded to hammer six wooden stakes into the ground. He made sure they were sturdy and couldn’t be pulled out.
He fetched his twisting and grunting hostage and dropped him, still wrapped up tight, right in the center of the stakes.
Burt removed the blanket wrapping to reveal the outlaw’s toned body, his manhood still erect. There was some white crust on the blanket, so the struggling undoubtedly worked out another orgasm.
Burt untied Lionel’s ankles, pulled off his underwear, and bound each ankle to a separate stake, pulling his lower limbs apart and leaving his naked crotch exposed.
Next, Burt untied Lionel’s wrists, but he was ready for a fight.
As soon as Lionel had an inch of freedom, he turned into a savage beast; his arms swung out, almost connecting with Burt’s chin. Lionel’s one hand pulled out the gag from his mouth and spat the sock out, the cleave gag bandanna falling to his neck.
That was the moment Burt waited for. Lionel’s other hand was now free, and Burt grabbed it, placed his dusty cowboy boot on the wrist, pushing it into the dirt.
“Yeeeaaaaw,” screamed Lionel. He swung his free hand around but to no avail. Burt kept his weight on the wrist.
“Hey, bronco. You wanna calm down? I can assure you it will go easier if you calm down.”
“Fuck you. You piece of shit. No good piece of scat.”
Ok, that was it. Burt knelt down, ducked under Lionel’s swinging fist, and caught it in his hand. Within seconds, the wrist was wrapped in the bandanna that was hanging around Lionel’s neck. He was trapped again, his one wrist digging into the dirt, his other trussed to his neck.
Burt saw defeat set in for a mere second before Lionel started cursing again.
Burt thumped his back hand through the cowboy’s face before slamming his rough hand over the uneven, bearded chin of his prey.
“Shut up, boy.” Burt picked up the wretched sock, which was now soaked and had fallen in the dirt, so some mud was stuck to it. He forced it back into his victim’s cursing gob.
Now they had a standoff.
Either Burt let go of his handgag so he can focus on tying Lionel down further, or he needed the cleave gag, in which case Lionel’s wrist would be free.
Burt was wondering what he would do. He settled on bearing the screaming for a couple of minutes until he had his cowpoke trussed up tight.
He let go of the handgag, and sure enough, the sock was spit out instantly, and the cursing and screaming resumed.
Burt looped a few strands around Lionel’s wrist and left two loose ends; these ends were pulled out to separate stakes and fastened securely. Lionel felt his wrist being held in one place. The way the two ropes were pulling apart made it impossible to even flail his wrist around.
Within minutes, his other wrist had succumbed to the same treatment.
“Now, where were we?” Burt stood over his boy and smirked; he wiped sweat from his brow. He loved a tough roping. He felt his cock swell as he looked at the outlaw sprawled out beneath him. Obscenities spilling forth from his mouth. “Aaah yes, but let’s punish you for this behavior.”
Burt walked over to Lambert, who was now awake and watching and listening silently to his brother’s breakdown. He untied the bandanna and pulled out the wet, stinky sock. “Good boy, Lambert.”
He came back to Lionel’s side and had to force his brother’s spit-soaked sock past his teeth before the shouting ceased. Burt grabbed a piece of stick lying nearby and forced it between Lionel’s teeth, pushing the gross sock further into his mouth. He gagged and coughed, but Burt tied the stick down behind his head, making a natural bit gag.
“There, that’s better, wouldn’t you agree, Lambert?”
“Uhm.” Was the most intelligible answer Lambert could come up with.
“Now for the torture.” Burt made a sugar and water mix and poured it out over his weak, spread-out bounty, making sure some of the mixture got in his armpit hair and his bush.
“Now, something is about to happen, Lionel, and I want you to consider what you did while this plays out. Think if it is worth all of this.”
Burt whistled, and Raider came strolling over; his eyes lit up when he smelled sugar, and within minutes, he was licking at Lionel’s bare body, tickling the stud and sending him into a laughing fit. Every now and then, Raider would try to give the sugar a nibble and painfully bite at Lionel’s skin, prompting painful screams, or try to eat the grass-like things and pull at Lionel’s hairy torso.
The screams of the outlaw were effectively muffled, and his body could go nowhere; he was stuck until Raider had enough. It was that balance between pain and pleasure that Burt loved inflicting on his bounty.
“Gee, Roper, you sure doing a number on my brother.”
“Well, well, old Lambie. Finally joining the conversation. It’s time for your punishment next.”
- was my own chin and I was so proud 
