The awkward bondage made it hard, but he scrambled behind her. She led him through the house, and he had glimpses of other slaves, both male and femal..., being used. He saw women being fucked, men being tortured, slaves of both genders serving their dominants and cleaning the house.She dragged him through a doorway, and he knew they'd reached the kennels. Rows of heavy steel dog cages stretched out. Most were empty, since their occupants were busy elsewhere, but a few still held a slave folded. I wore a pair of low rise jeans, a push up bra and a tight white shirt. I left my hair wild and messy, and my leather boots finished off my “cowgirl slut” look. Of course I hadn’t packed any panties, you know, not enough room in my bag (lol). We arrived at the stadium early to meet up with our contact and get the tickets for the floor seats. Once we entered the arena, I couldn’t get the smile off of my face. So many cowboys, snorting bulls, the whole place just felt like sex. As we sat. "In the short time you've known me; I've been gentle and considerate. I was concerned about Emily, that for some reason this may not have been what you really want, but were just trying to please her. I need to put that to rest before I will move forward." It was a long speech for him, not being in my short experience much of a pointless talker. He was waiting for something from me. I studied him, lots of unsaid things held back. He was clean cut, fit, professional, a few years older than me. Of course the absurd nature of what was happening was lost in the pleasure I was now masking in pretence of sl**p. I was being sexually assaulted and enjoying it. He could not be aware I was now squeezing of my thighs, trying to stimulate my clitoris, and this mearly told my attacker, he was twisting the fuck me button, now superbly erect and sticking out front on my bare breast. As I quietly squirmed and eased forward on the seat, he shifted ever so easily, carefully manipulating my nipple and.