Misting Waters scooted over on her knees and ruffled his hair.
“Good night, dog.”
She glanced down.
Nothing.
She smiled.
“Good dog.”
Turning Leaves scooted up and managed to brush the fringe of her dress along his shaft.
He pinched the flesh underneath his penis to keep from twitching as she whispered, “Did you like my friends, dog?
They promised to play with you again tomorrow.”
Then she said louder, “Good night, dog.”
Yellow Hawk watched her move away and saw Mike trying to maintain control.
He didn’t know what his daughter had whispered, but it was more than the goodnight he’d heard.
As Whispering Wheat’s lips circled his cock, he forgot about the dog.
Mike tried to ignore them, but when Yellow Hawk split her thighs and buried his face in her pussy, he could smell her juices.
He closed his eyes and hard as he pinched and slapped, when her orgasm gasped through the tent, he was rigid as one of the teepee poles.
The daughters slept through it.
Yellow Hawk glanced over at him and shook his head.
He went back to his passion, burying his hard shaft in Whispering Wind’s channel with wet, slapping thrusts while she clutched at the furs. Her breasts shuddered with each plunge until he groaned out his orgasm.
When he composed himself, he again reached into the pouch at the end of the bed.
Mike trembled and started shaking his head.
Oh, god, not the straps again. I’ll die.
His bound hands frantically slapped at his erection and pulled painfully at his testicle ring as Yellow Hawk approached him.
“Bad dog.”
Mike was sobbing and shaking his head, each turn pulling on the traces. Yellow Hawk held up a strange looking wooden and leather device.
Mike looked at it a moment and screamed, trying to back away.
“Whispering Wheat, hold the dog.
I don’t want it injured.”
Whispering Wheat crawled over behind Mike and he felt her finger brush his hands away and hook through the sack ring.
“Move the traces.”
Her little finger scooted the traces so they trailed down one cheek of his ass. The painful tightening caused him to tilt his head slightly back.
Whimpers uttered behind the gag as he continued shaking his head in terror.
Yellow Hawk unlashed his wrists from the ring and Mike frantically tried to strike him. The big man caught his wrists easily and lashed them to the leash over his head. “This is for your own good, dog.
You’ve been warned about this enough.”
Yellow Hawk slid the leather strip through his ring and over Mike’s dwindling cock, finally depleting with fear.
He was still sobbing and glanced down his wet cheeks to see Turning Leaves staring at his cock with narrowed eyes.
When he tried to buck his hips away, Whispering Wheat twisted the sack ring painfully.
She gently stroked his shoulder and in a calming voice said, “Settle down dog.
This will help you on your journey.”
What the fuck’s wrong with you people?
Mike screamed behind the gag
.
The finger-like piece of smooth dry wood was twisted underneath and pushed past the tight ring of his ass while he shrieked.
Whispering Wheat let go of the testicle ring and Mike bucked his hips in a futile attempt to dislodge the obstruction.
His movements made it rub against his prostrate and caused him to begin to stiffen.
Whispering Wheat’s fingers tightened around the top of his sack, constricting his arousal while Yellow Hawk tightened the looped leather strip around his cock and rolled it under the ridge of his purpling mushroomed crown.
Whispering Wheat released his testicles and blood seeped slowly into his shaft.
A drop of sticky clear fluid oozed from his slit.
The ring under his tip tightened painfully, pulling at the attached leather strip that rubbed along his engorged shaft, through his sack ring and buried in his ass where it attached to the wooden prostrate massager.
His agonizing erection remained stiff with the caress of the smooth wood pressing against his gland.
His balls slowly bloated, their contents trapped behind the ring on the end of his cock.
Mike moaned and concentrated on stopping the instinctive clenching of his rectum against the stimulation, knowing it would only serve to fill his groin with more agonizing fluid.
He would have hung his head if it wouldn’t pull on the traces still attached to his sack.
Yes, that was training too.
Mike automatically walked with a straight back and his head held high like the man he would be after his journey. His sobs turned to whimpers while his wrists were lashed to the traces behind him.
Yellow Hawk stroked the leather strip that rubbed seductively down the length of his penis until Mike had no control over gentle thrusts that set the arousing, massaging chain in motion.
He grabbed Mike’s chin, forcing him to look at him.
“You’re sack will fill with your rutting fluid.
You will be allowed to spill your seed once a day, in the morning.
You will learn to control this disgraceful behavior and time your arousal.” The Indian returned to the furs with his wife.
Mike’s ass spasmed against the wood and his cock twitched again, filling to unbearable fullness with his sperm trapped at the exit.
He glanced down in misery at the bruised coloring of his organ.
He whimpered again as the tracers forced his head back up and he saw Turning Leaves eyes filled with excitement as she slowly licked her lips at his torment.
There was no position that lessened the affect of the plug in his ass.
He didn’t dream, didn’t plan, he wasn’t even sure if he slept.
All he could think about was expelling the device and loosening the leather wedged on his swollen cock.
He tried bearing down hard on himself.
The offending finger rubbed seductively along his gland.
By morning, he thought he was going insane.
The need to cum was all he could think about.
Yellow Hawk knelt in front of him after the women left the tent.
“The Indians are a passionate people, dog.
We have summer feasts out by the fires.
It’s gross misconduct to be aroused by a woman other than your mate.
It’s as bad as adultery in your old world.
You will be trained not to rut.
I told you, you would spill your seed.
You will also drink the offense as payment for disrespecting my wife.”
Even in his lust crazed haze, Mike understood those words.
He shook his head, pulling painfully at his traces while his hips continued their rhythmic, humiliating thrusting.
“You’ll learn to control this quickly, I think.”
Yellow Hawk chuckled, and reached for a thin skin.
It was the intestinal wrapping from a deer, knotted at one end.
The Indians rarely used the birth control method as they wanted children.
Sometimes, if the woman’s health was in question, they had to.
Yellow Hawk rolled the leather ring down the engorged penis while Mike shrieked behind the gag.
The translucent bag was stretched over his erection. Yellow Hawk’s strong hand held it at the base as he untied the ring.
Mike stayed perfectly still, knowing if he moved, the wood along his prostrate would trigger an orgasm.
Yellow Hawk reached down and gently squeezed his swollen sack.
“Come on, dog.
You know you need to release this.”
Mike cried and shuffled back on his knees.
The small wiggle to get away stroked his gland and his hips bucked frantically.
The fingers at his base slid up and down with his movements as the orgasm ripped through him.
Mike bellowed behind the gag at the forceful release and kept thrusting more seed into the thin pouch.
He was finally reduced to weak shudders and Yellow Hawk watched the lessening spurts hit the end of the skin.
He maintained his grip until they ended.
“Good dog.” He swayed Mike’s emptied sacks.
“That feels better.”
He pulled the filled skin off Mike’s spent cock and knotted the loose end.
He took the traces and pulled them through the ring until Mike’s head was tilted back then he tied them.
Mike’s hands were still lashed to the strips and rested on top of his ass, now clenching with fear.
The big man stood over him.
“You have offended my mate and me, dog.
You will make amends.” Yellow Hawk pulled the choker ring.
Mike was trying to wheeze air through his nose when the Indian untied the gag and pulled it out of his mouth.
The Indian made a tiny puncture in the end of the semen filled skin and put an inch of its length past Mike’s lips.
The warm weight of the skin rested on his tongue and slipped as he desperately tried to push it out while still fighting for air.
The Indian released the choker chain and slid his fingers down the skin, widening the punctured hole and emptying it into Mike’s mouth.
With his head tilted back and gasping for air, he swallowed half of it.
When the gag was shoved back in, it was just a matter of time.
The traces were loosened as the dog shook with shuddering sobs.
Yellow Hawk patted his head.
“Eventually, this either won’t become so traumatic, or you will learn to control your rutting.”
Mike’s stomach rolled, his own sticky substance was clinging to the leather strips in his throat and the rest was squeezing its way between the gag and his cheeks as he swallowed.
The panicked moves from the experience caused the wooden finger to do its work and he was already becoming hard again while Yellow Hawk retied the ring.
Yellow Hawk led the sobbing dog out to the cooking fire.
Whispering Wheat already prepared his bowl.
“How long will you keep him ringed?” she asked.
“Three days, then we’ll see how he does.”
Mike groaned.
The only time the wooden obstruction was removed was when he was
walked
in the morning.
Mike was led through town toward the stables, while villagers smirked with disgust at his constant forced erection. Every step made him want to thrust his hips and squeeze his thighs together.
It was agony.
The men snickered and the women shook their heads.
Mike was totally humiliated while being agonizingly and forcibly aroused.
When they stopped to talk to people, the women present would reach out and slap his cock between their hands.
“Bad, rutting dog.”
Mike cried even as he tried to thrust between their palms.
Wind Seeker was waiting for them and Yellow Hawk snapped his fingers. Mike automatically dropped to his knees, rocking his hips like the rutting beast they were calling him.
Even with his wrists in front, he couldn’t reach to untie the ring.
When he tried to roll it, the finger pushed harder against his gland, and it was too long to pull out while it was tied to his cock.
These were the only thoughts going through Mike’s mind.
That, and the need to cum again.
CHAPTER 3
HORSING AROUND
Wind Seeker glanced at the engorged member.
“I see you had to ring him.”
“I was hoping he’d learned, but he began to rut again last night.
He rises to the least amount of provocation.
With his bright blue eyes, I imagine he had his share of women on the flatlands.
You and I have talked about the differences in the ways.”
Wind Seeker wrinkled his nose in distaste.
The thought of men and women rutting indiscriminately with no thought to joining their journey was disgusting.
“He’ll learn.” Wind Seeker patted the kneeling man’s head.
“I’ve come to watch his journey progress.”
Yellow Hawk thought this was a good sign.
Wind Seeker had faith the dog would become a man, too.
They walked into the stables.
Mike closed his eyes.
A small part of his mind was fearful Wind Seeker would think of an even worse torture.
Trying to stand still and stop his ass cheeks from clenching, he concentrated on the smell of the hay, horses and leather.
Yellow Hawk attached two traces to the front choker loop, ran them through his nipple rings and split them on either side of his cock to attach to the ring. The soft tanned strips rubbed along the sides of Mike’s swollen shaft and aroused him further.
The stroking of the leather on the base of his cock started him pushing forward.
Yes. Yes, that‘ll work.
His relief was a few strokes away
.
His hips began a frenzied thrusting, frantically clenching the strengthening muscles in his ass and rubbing his erection against the traces.
He gasped when the hated gag was removed.
Mike’s eyes were squeezed shut in concentration as he tried to force an orgasm past the tightened ring.
The Indian’s chuckled softly at his self-abasement when his lips quivered in anticipation of a release that could never be accomplished.
He was so completely preoccupied, he hardly noticed the rubber ring slipped behind his teeth.
Two reins were clipped to the sides of the bit and hung down from his mouth.
Yellow Hawk went over to the table and came back with a straight razor.
Wind Seeker lifted up on the front tracers pulling on his sack and nipples until he opened his eyes and glared up at him, angry at the distraction from his efforts.
“Easy boy, you will stand still.”
The Indian grabbed his aching cock and twisted when he felt the rocking begin again.
“He is a randy one,” Wind Seeker acknowledged.
Mike was reduced to clenching his ass into a comforting push into Wind Seeker’s fist.
Wind Seeker saw a bead of sweat travel down the horse’s forehead and the strained features of his concentration.
“You were right to ring him.
It’s keeping him distracted.
He should get through the first days easier now,” Wind Seeker remarked.
Yellow Hawk shaved the inch growth, leaving the three inches on his crown. He wrapped a strip of leather close to his skull so the wavy black tail stuck out and could swing.
Mike was curious about what they were doing to him, but his throbbing cock demanded his attention.
Every time it pulsed, his ass contracted causing the finger to press.
He’d rock forward into Wind Seeker’s fist, only to be painfully reprimanded.
It was becoming a vicious circle of frustrating denied arousal.
The fact that he was pissed off because he was being stopped from masturbating into the big man’s hand caused Wind Seeker to chuckle again with amusement.
Through painful mistakes, Mike learned he could no longer tilt his head or turn it side to side because of the tracers down the front.
He could only hold his head up, facing straight ahead.
With Yellow Hawk pulling the reigns, Mike was led back through town.
His head faced forward, his back was straight, and his mouth was held open while his tongue moved restlessly.
Drool trailed down his chin.
His cock was stiff and the tracers rubbed along his root, causing him to fight a losing battle to keep chasing his elusive climax.
They stopped at every home so the tribe could admire the horse.
He‘d close his eyes and eventually begin his thrust, sure that if he could just have one release, he would be able to stop humiliating himself.
In the back of his mind he registered the Indians’ laughter.
“Uck ewe. Uck ewe, I alost ot it.
Den, uck ewe,” his scream garbled through the ring bit.
Yellow Hawk was right.
The ring kept him distracted.
The warriors congratulated Yellow Hawk for helping the soul journey from dog to horse, while the captive knelt at his feet rutting his hard shaft into the air.
The Indians found his behavior curious.
It had been twenty years since a flatlander was brought through the journey, and many were surprised to learn it was true.
Part of the flatlanders’ journey was to learn not to rut.
The Indians were raised with the respect not to let their desires override their pride and strength and most believed it was a natural phenomenon, not a learned condition.
When they finished the greetings, Yellow Hawk led him to the stream.
He picked up a small bowl and filled it with water.
After he untied the back tracers, he snapped.
After a month of conditioning, Mike automatically dropped to his knees at the sound.
Yellow Hawk placed the bowl in front of him. “Water yourself, horse.”
The Indian shook his head as the horse remained kneeling on the ground with his eyes closed, bottom lip trembling with his pumping hips.
He pulled his lock of hair and the horse opened its eyes.
“Water yourself.”
It took a second for the words to register.
Mike leaned over and lapped the water.
It immediately fell out of his open mouth and every successive attempt resulted with only a few drops making it down his throat when he curled his tongue and let it flow toward the back.
“Finish it, horse.
You’ve been exerting yourself with your rutting.
You will not dehydrate.”
Mike needed to climax.
The hell with his thirst.
He was so close.
He’d drink after his balls emptied.
Yellow Hawk pulled his tracers until he caught his attention again.
Mike realized he was not going to be able to move his hips against the straps until he did as the Indian asked, so he worked at the task, finally sucking the water into his mouth and lifting his head to swallow. The up and down motion caused the plug to stroke him and he whined his displeasure at the frustrating teasing drip released from his cock.
Yellow Hawk ignored him.
At last, the bowl was empty and he was brought to his feet.
Yellow Hawk retied the back tracers and squeezed his full sack.
“The makings of a good breakfast tomorrow.”
”Uck ewe. Uck ewe, ath hole.
I alost ot it.”
Frustrated
tears flowed.
Mike dug in and wouldn’t move any further.
From the side he heard women laughing.
Yellow Hawk held his reigns by his chin so he couldn’t turn his head.
He waited for Mike to stop crying and whispered, “Gentle Wave is at the stream with her friends.
She’s watching you now that you’ve journeyed to horse.
Several times her eyes have traveled to your stiff cock and full balls with desire.
She’d be a good match for you when you are a man.”
Mike stilled.
It seemed crazy that a woman would be impressed by his current state.
“Many of the young women will wait to see if you become a man.
The journey is a test the natural men don’t take.
The women don’t know if they truly have a strong mate.
A man who’s taken the journey is known to be strong and proud.
When you’re a man, consider Gentle Wave.”
Yellow Hawk thought about his own words and realized Turning Leaves might make a play for the horse now, too.
That could be disastrous.
Whispering Wheat again had the answer after they discussed it.
When her daughters settled for dinner, she mused out loud, “It’s a shame the horse is so young.
It will be at least a year before he’s a man, and even then he’ll have no importance for a long time.”
Turning Leaves sneered at the horse.
“My flatlander is ten years older, Mother. You see what a good match that would be for me, and he wouldn’t have to be ringed.
That animal’s disgusting.”
Mike was back to the frenzied thrust against the tracers.
So close, oh god, that’s it, oh, god.
He was so far gone it didn’t register that all he was doing was filling his sack.
His sperm would never travel past the ring.
Whispering Wheat knew to wait until the celebration to break the news.
If she agreed now, Turning Leaves would suspect something.
Mike knelt by the side of the pit, reigns hanging on the ground on either side of his bowl. He continued his thrusting knowing the relief of an orgasm was within reach if he could just push a little harder.
His testicles were heavy and bloated to a painful degree.
Yellow Hawk took a strip of leather and tied it around his full sack.
Mike couldn’t look down to see what he was doing, but tried to rub his erection against the man’s fingers while he worked.
He
walked
the horse behind the teepee into the grasses and untied the cock ring.
A tiny squirt of pre-cum expelled and Mike groaned as blood flowed uninhibited into his penis.
Yellow Hawk placed the stiff organ between his palms and slapped him repeatedly until it softened a bit.
Mike was shrieking and trying to pull back. Yellow Hawk finally decided it was soft enough and slapped the reigns across the top of the tortured organ.
Mike automatically pissed as he’d been trained.
The cock strap went back on and his balls were released.
He was stiff again by the time they got back to the fire.
When they entered the teepee, Mike’s reigns were tied to the beam they’d used for his leash.
The tracers were kept on and he leaned to the side of the structure on his knees.
His erection skimmed the rough surface of the tent.
When Yellow Hawk woke up, Mike was facing the tent thrusting away at the friction.
“Trying to rut my teepee now,” Yellow Hawk chuckled.
“I guess it’s better than you thinking about my wife.”
Deep circles hung under the horse’s eyes.
Mike watched him walk over with the skin and cried, continuing his frustrated thrusting.
He knew the orgasm was close and wailing sounds came out of the ring gag.
Yellow Hawk grabbed his choker ring and turned him around.
“You know the lesson, horse.”
Yellow Hawk captured the erection and bagged it.
Mike closed his eyes and gasped in relief as he obediently filled it with even more viscous fluid than before.
The Indian untied the front tracers and pulled down on the back two, emptying the sack into the horse’s pried open mouth.
Mike tried to work it out with his tongue.
Yellow Hawk gently pumped his already hardening cock until the thrusting began.
He continued to hold the horse’s head back.
The horse closed his eyes, his world of illusive arousal distracting him again.
Yellow Hawk held his cock and stilled him with his ring.
Mike needed to push, if he could just push.
“We will stay like this until you swallow your offense, horse.”
Mike miserably gulped and was rewarded with the ability to thrust into the air again.