The Good, The Bad And The Irresistible

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

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I'd been on the trail for a couple of weeks now, tracking a gang of rogues who'd been bailing up stagecoaches in the district, making off with the menfolk after relieving any ladies present of their jewels and valuables. 

The kidnapped gents would invariably be found a few days later, buck naked (or near enough) and left stranded in the middle of nowhere, full of dark tales of dishonourable handling and physical abuse; the details of their treatment only vaguely outlined in the press reports that had now started to seep out. 

Those details were enough to peak the interest of a bounty hunter and bona fide queer gent like myself; Buck Foster, 56 years of age, college educated and the best man-hunter money can buy. 

I’d tried my hand at various money-making ventures over the years, from university lecturer (poetry and literature, for my sins!) to farming and sideshow roustabout, but bounty hunting seemed to suit me best of all; I liked money and I liked men, and I was at my best when I worked alone.
 
I had little doubt that it was the Daytona Boys committing these outrages, three brothers known for their wild ways and partiality for cowboy flesh. The more scurrilous papers were referring to them as the Cowpoke Gang, which I thought rather good, and which had whetted my interest even further.

Much moral indignation was being paraded by local worthies condemning their activities, whilst the more prurient members of society had begun following their adventures with barely disguised relish. Needless to say, the authorities were aghast at such an assault on society’s moral fibre, and a large reward had been posted for information leading to their capture. Which is where I came in. 

I’d been able to track down a few of their victims and some had agreed to talk to me about their ordeal, in strictest confidence naturally. To a man they were all good looking gents, ages ranging from late 20s to mid 50s, and I would happily have had my way with any and all of them. 

Each one spoke shamefacedly of having been used most indecently by the hooded gang members, speaking darkly of threats to their manhood and attacks on their virility and honour, code words I understood all too clearly. Each had been branded with a letter ‘D’ on one, or occasionally both, buttocks, and most were only too happy to let me see this vicious mark of their ordeal, for which favour I was extremely grateful.

One of the victims I had interrogated, a good looking lad from the east on his way to get hitched to his fiancé, spoke in less hellfire terms of his ordeal, and I could tell by the way he dwelt over certain lurid details that the mistreatment had not been wholly unpleasant to him. The movement in his pants as he outlined one particularly outrageous violation left me in no doubt that the experience had opened his eyes to possibilities he may not have dreamt of previously. 

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I had expressed an interest in a more practical demonstration of his untoward encounter, and when we both ended up in bed together that evening I doubted very much if his intended marriage would be going ahead.

The memory of that revealing and energetic night was causing stirrings in my loins now, as I trotted along on horseback following the broken trail of the lewd desperadoes, at most a day or two ahead of me. The pommel on my saddle moving against my crotch did nothing to extinguish the pleasurable sensations of my hardening tool, and before long I felt a sudden liquid release into my already trail worn undergarment. One more stain, more or less, wouldn't make too much difference at this stage. 

I slumped forward in the saddle, letting the waves of pleasure drain my body momentarily as my trusty companion plodded on, following the rutted path of the barely discernible track we were following. 

My enervation was rudely broken by raucous laughter coming from somewhere further ahead. Suddenly awake and alert, I gripped the reins and directed Thunder into the scrub which surrounded us on all sides, guessing as best I could the direction of the sound. 

Instinctively feeling my tension, the horse walked as if on ice, barely snapping a twig as he negotiated his way through the dense foliage, honing in on the occasional bouts of laughter that rose up just ahead of us. Dismounting I cautioned him to stay put and crept along through the tall gorse bushes, expecting at any minute to find myself confronted by one or more of the Daytona boys.
 
The sounds were directly in front of me now, just beyond a head-high stand of prickly shrubs, and I crouched low, peering through the thicket into a clearing alive with a most troubling spectacle. 

A youngish man, probably in his mid 20s, blindfolded and naked, was tied securely between two trees, legs and arms spreadeagled, one of the brothers hard up against him, his cock embedded deep within his arse, riding him like a bronco, whipping his ass with a switch and whooping like a cowboy at a rodeo.  

His curvaceous buttocks (forgive me but I can’t help noticing such things) were criss-crossed with welts from the whipping, his tormentor's hand covering his mouth to stifle the cries escaping from his lips, his agony fuelling the lout’s sadism and lust.His brothers, also buck naked with cocks hard as rifles, were clearly waiting their turns, tugging at their stiff members and barracking their sibling on to greater effort.

I knew that I had to do something, but was shocked to realise that my own tool was hard in my pants once again, the scene before me filling me with a lust that I felt ashamed of. It was all I could do to stop myself spilling more of my seed, my mind racing as I struggled to conquer my lustful thoughts and come up with a plan that would save the fellow from the brutality happening before my very eyes. 

What I didn't see coming, distracted as I was by my own hard member and shameful thoughts, was the branding iron one of the gang had fetched from the fire. I had seen the marks on the backsides of some of the other victims, but the unbridled debauch I had been witnessing had momentarily caused me to forget this additional outrage. 

Too late I remembered the danger as the scalding iron was pressed into the victim’s already battered buttock, the boys whooping and hollering as his body arched with pain and torment, his attacker continuing his assault on his arsehole with increased ferocity.
 
Goaded on by this additional torment the lad with the branding iron threw it aside and pressed himself up against his brother's back, penetrating his sibling and slapping his sweat soaked cheeks like the flanks of a galloping horse. 

The third brother, not to be left out, grabbed his own stiff tool and rammed it into this brother's behind, the three boys now fucking each other as well as their struggling victim, the light from the campfire illuminating the wild scene in an infernal glow as twilight began to settle over the land.
 
Distracted as they all were in each others arses I saw my chance. Creeping out of the shadows I advanced on the heaving mass of rutting man flesh, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling out my ripe, hard cock, ready to give them a taste of their own medicine.
 
Drawing my pistol from its holster I forced my rock hard member into the rectum of the exposed caboose, clamping my hand over his mouth and holding the barrel against his temple, hissing in his ear that if he stopped fucking his brother he'd never fuck anything again. 

My own cock was sliding in and out of his hole as he continued to roger his brother with increased intensity, cold steel and hot flesh giving added impetus to his efforts. I felt his body shudder as his orgasm hit, and as he released his seed I knocked him out with the butt of my gun, letting him fall to the ground senseless beside me.

With not a moment to lose I repeated the manoeuvre with the next in line, the same message, the same effect, and now I found myself fucking the last member of the gang, unaware that the cock pumping his hole was not that of his sibling. 

I could tell from his frenzy that he was nearing release, and I pumped him with as much force as I could to bring on the climax. When it arrived it was sudden and fierce, he cried out as if in pain, and I could feel through my own root deep within him his prick spurting again and again. 

It seemed almost cruel to interrupt such pleasure, but I am not a sentimental fellow and I pistol-whipped him as I had his brothers, sending him to join them unconscious on the ground. 

My dick, swollen and needing release, slipped from his hole and instantly began spurting spunk across the back of the bound figure now directly in front of me. I knew that it would be useless to resist, so grabbing it I pumped myself until the last thick strands hit the ground at my feet and I fell to my knees, exhausted and spent.
 
Looking up I realised that the lad had passed out from the pain of the ordeal, the letter “D” branded into his left butt cheek fierce and raw. Struggling to regain my composure I forced myself onto my feet and tucked my sloppy tool back into my pants before cutting him down and laying him as gently as I could on a patch of soft grass.

Recovering my senses I hogtied the naked brothers where they lay, ensuring that I could tend to their victim undisturbed. I had some useful salve in my pack and hurriedly went to retrieve Thunder from his nearby hiding spot. 

The young gentleman was coming to his senses by the time I returned, and I reassured him that his ordeal was over. Putting his trust in me he allowed me to tend his scalded rear, wincing at the flash of pain as the lotion took hold but holding himself in check as I gently rubbed more of the salve into the welts that crisscrossed his butt cheeks. A not unpleasant task, and I was pleased to see his body relax as my hands went about their good work.

His name was Conrad and the ordeal had left him shaken and bruised, but despite the rough handling he had sustained no other major injuries, and he seemed more indignant than outraged at the use that had been made of him. 

Getting him to his feet I saw that he was stocky and solidly built, and when he turned to face me I couldn’t help but notice his thick penis, average in length and pleasing to the eye, despite the bruises and small cuts that covered his shaft and generous foreskin. A pair of plump smooth balls showed similar signs of misuse, and his full ginger bush was  unkempt and matted with who knew what excretions. 

“Those boys need to mind their teeth when they suck a guy’s prick” he opined as he looked down at his abused member, making me laugh out loud and bringing a dazzling smile to his exhausted face. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any of that lotion left?”

I did indeed and he didn’t flinch or even look surprised when I went to apply it to his tender manhood, which was already showing signs of life despite its battered state. I assured him that once it properly healed I had other treatments I could offer, and his smile told me that these ministrations would be only too welcome.

The day was drawing in by this stage and I fetched some blankets from the camp to wrap him in while we sorted out the issue of clothing, and what precisely our plan was for getting the gang to the nearest town. Between the two of us we felt more than able to handle them, and we determined that after a good night’s sleep we would set out first thing and deliver the horny miscreants into the not so tender arms of the law.

In the meantime two bodies were better than one at keeping warm during a cold early winter’s night, and after a hastily prepared meal we snuggled in together under a layer of blankets, managing a few hours sleep in between getting to know each other a whole lot better. 

The groans and complaints of the trussed and shivering gang did not disturb us in the least.