Death in the Rockies

Butch narrowed his eyes and was licking his lips. “He must have liked the goods then. It usually takes him a while to get around to that. Come here.”

I walked slowly to him, surprised that he hadn’t asked me to strip as Slade had done. But that’s what the knife was for, I learned. When I got to him, he grabbed my wrists in a strong grip and raised them over my head. It was only then that I saw the leather leads and wrist constraints hanging from the ceiling.

After strapping me up, Butch sauntered over to the side of the dungeon and turned a crank, which I quickly saw and felt was pulling me up to where only my toes touched the ground. I looked down and saw that there were other leather leads on the floor near my feet and wondered what they were for.

Butch then came and stood in front of me and smiled a wicked smile. I looked down and saw that he was in full erection now.

“You have your choice after I fuck you,” he said, making clear that he intended for that to happen whatever else happened. I wanted him, though, so that wasn’t a concern I had. “I’m not going to do anything to you that we wouldn’t let a ranch client do, but we have to vet that you would do it if asked.” Then, without further explanation he took the Bowie knife and began to cut my clothes away. When he was done and I was naked, he lifted the knife and showed it to me. For the first time, I noticed how unusual the handle was. It was a good foot long and it was thick—maybe two and a half inches or more—but the handle ended in two globular protrusions that were at least three and a half inches in radius.