Author's Note: This is a sequel to Psychological Research, where Heather is forced to acknowledge an unexpected love of bondage during a psych experiment. Thanks as always to Bethany (Handcuffgirl) for edits and suggestions.


"I really shouldn't even be asking, it's just that I'm in such a bind..."

That must have been the tenth time that Heather's cousin delayed whatever she had come to ask. Heather's curiosity was definitely piqued. Her cousin, Brittany, came from the wild side of the family and always seemed to be up to something interesting. She was in town for the week and had stopped by to ask a favor, but was sure taking her sweet time to get to it.

"It's just that I know you've always been kind of... reserved," Brittany said. "So you should definitely feel free to say no, okay?"

"C'mon," Heather said, starting to get a little exasperated. "Just throw it out there. You know you can ask me anything."

That was true. The cousins had always been close friends, even though their outlooks on life seemed to be polar opposites. Heather was a quintessential academic who carefully organized every facet of her life. Organization was essential to achieving goals, she believed. Graduating at the top of her class would not be possible without it, nor would getting accepted into a top Psychology Doctorate program.

Brittany, on the other hand, was the definition of a free-spirit, taking life's adventures as they came and never worrying too much about what the future might hold. After high school, she had taken off to see the world, paying her way with a series of odd jobs that were never going to lead to a career. Heather didn't even know what her cousin was currently doing for work; it was just so hard to keep track.

The opposing life-views never interfered with the girls' friendship. They were very close in age and their families had lived close to each other while they were growing up. Because the girls shared so many physical characteristics - height, hair color, athletic bodies - people always joked that they might be twins, and they spent so much time together that it almost seemed true. Their paths had diverged since high school, though they tried to keep in touch as often as possible.

"Okay, here goes," Brittany said, finally getting to the point. "I've been travelling with the rodeo, and I need to find someone to fill in for me tomorrow night."

"Well, if it's a job I can do, I'm sure I'll be happy to help," Heather replied.

"Don't be so sure..." Brittany warned. "You see, it involves getting tied up."

Heather did her best to keep her racing heart under control as her cousin described the newest addition to the lineup of rodeo events. Ever since the psych study that Heather had participated in a few weeks back, she had been forced to admit that her body exhibited an intense sexual reaction to bondage. She had wanted to experiment further, but just couldn't figure out how to do it without embarrassing herself and throwing her carefully planned life into chaos. Now her cousin seemed to be presenting the perfect opportunity. She listened with rapt attention.

Brittany explained that rodeos had always been macho affairs, so it was inevitable that one of the rodeo circuits would try something like this. The new event was almost identical to an event called Calf Roping, where a cowboy on horseback chases down a calf, catches it with a lasso, then ties the animal's legs together. The only difference was that instead of calves, this new event used girls. They called it Cowgirl Roping, and it had quickly become a major hit.

The impulsive cousin had signed on to be one of these new cowgirls for the first season. The last rodeo of that season was the very next night, but Brittany could not compete. She had just learned that she was pregnant. While there wasn't much risk of a cowgirl getting hurt, there was a very definite chance that she might slam face-down into the dirt, and an impact to the stomach just wasn't something an expectant mother could accept.

The problem was that Brittany's contract required her to compete for the entire season or she would have to give back almost the entire salary they had been paying her. If a physical injury had prevented her from competing it would have been a different story, but the men in charge had written a clause that treated pregnancy the same as dropping out. Progressive labor laws had apparently not yet come to the rodeos.

Heather was so turned on by the thought of getting tied up by some cowboy that she almost forgot to congratulate her cousin on her pregnancy. After the obligatory hugging and fawning, Brittany again explained that the favor she was asking could definitely be turned down.

"Really," Brittany asserted, "this is a huge thing to ask, and I wouldn't even be asking except that I've already spent the money that I would have to give back and I would be totally screwed. But shoot, this is crazy, I really shouldn't have come to you. It's totally not your kind of thing. I'm sure I can go find someone else who looks enough like me..."

"No, I'll do it!" Heather said excitedly, then struggled to tone it down. "I mean, I'm your cousin and you need help, so of course I'm here for you. Just let me know how this is going to work."

After a night of erotic dreams and a very unproductive day, the time finally came for Heather to get suited up. The cousins were standing in Heather's bedroom, one naked in anticipation of the costume she was about to put on, and the other holding a full-body harness.

"These straps are going to hold this anchor firmly on the middle of your back," Brittany explained. "That's where the cowboy is going to lasso you. When you get yanked off your feet, the harness distributes the force across your body so you don't break anything, and this padding means that even if you land right on the anchor it won't really hurt your back."

Brittany started by tightening wide leather straps around the tops of Heather's thighs. The naked girl felt the beginning of a tingle down below and wanted to believe that the cause was just the proximity of someone else's hands so close to her pussy. Just a few weeks earlier, she would have believed that fib. Following that damn psych study, however, she knew that her body responded to the feel of restraints, and she craved more.

Another wide strap circled Heather's chest, just below her breasts, then two straps went over and around her shoulders. The ensemble was held together by straps that ran up the sides of her torso, which Brittany tightened as well so that Heather's body was held in a tight embrace by the harness. The straps didn't restrict her movements in any way, but the knowledge that the anchor they held on her back would be used to capture her was definitely making her hot.

The anchor was shaped something like a wing nut. The sturdy leather wings were about ten inches across at their tips, then narrowed down to about four inches at the base where the anchor was fixed to a leather pad and held against the middle of Heather's back by the straps of the harness. It seemed like a relatively small target, but some quick internet searching the night before had shown just how accurate these cowboys could be with their ropes. They would be able to easily throw their lassos around the tips of the anchor, at which point the rope would cinch down around the base, giving the cowboy a tight leash on the cowgirl. The thought sent shivers down Heather's spine.

"You okay?" Brittany asked. "You look a little nervous, are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yes!" Heather shouted with far more enthusiasm than she intended. "I'm fine, really, let's keep going. I assume there's more to the costume than just this harness?"

There were more pieces to the costume, though they didn't cover all that much more of Heather's body. A short, tan-colored, frilly skirt just barely covered the straps around her thighs, but left the rest of her long legs bare. The skirt came with built-in matching panties. High-cut as those panties were, the loose skirt would expose them if so much as a small breeze came her way.

An equally skimpy halter top hid the straps that ran over Heather's shoulders and hung loosely down just low enough to cover the strap underneath her breasts. The only straps left showing were the ones running vertically along her body. There was no bra, and the garment provided almost no support. Heather's breasts, like her cousins, weren't huge, but the full C-cups would definitely be doing a lot of bouncing if she tried to run. With embarrassment, she realized that was surely the point.

A pair of calf-high cowgirl boots went on next, and the two girls were relieved to see that their feet were still the same size. Brittany explained that the thick leather of the boots would ensure that her ankles wouldn't get chaffed when she was hogtied. The rope the cowboys used for hogtying was apparently called a Pigging String, and was quite rough so that they could quickly tie a simple knot that would not slip loose. Part of Heather's brain floated away with thoughts of that rope around her ankles. The part of her brain that still retained some ability to think rationally asked how her wrists would be protected.

"Well," Brittany hesitated, "that's where the next piece of the costume comes in. The guys who designed this needed a way to protect our wrists, but they also decided that us cowgirls shouldn't be able to use our fingers. You see, just like in calf roping, the pigging string has to stay tied for six seconds after the cowboy gets back on his horse. If we could use our fingers, then the quick knot would be a simple to untie. So, they designed these to sort of level the playing field."

Brittany pulled a pair of elbow-length leather sleeves out of her duffle bag. At the end of each sleeve was a hard-plastic hoof. Heather just watched with a mixture of disbelief and excitement as the first sleeve was pulled up her right arm until her hand was forced to ball up inside the hollow hoof. Brittany then tightened a pair of built-in straps, one around Heather's wrists and another just above her elbow. Brittany explained that the straps had been added after the first rodeo, when one of the sleeves had flown off during the competition and conked some poor spectator in the head.

With the second sleeve similarly fastened in place, neither the horny part of Heather's brain nor the analytical part missed the fact that the hard hooves encapsulating both her hands had rendered her fingers entirely useless. She realized that when her cousin had said the hooves would level the playing field, that had not meant making things more equitable between cowgirl and cowboy. Rather, it was the differences between cowgirl and calf that were being eliminated.

Heather knew she wouldn't be able to do so much as open a door or adjust her costume by herself. She figured that if she needed to, and if she had enough time, she would be able to undo the buckles using her teeth and find some way to yank the sleeves off. Barring that, she wouldn't be able to do much of anything by herself except run around and look pretty. Her cousin must have noticed Heather's rapid breathing, because she asked again if everything was all right.

The next piece of the costume explained how Heather was going to be able to fill in for her cousin without anyone being the wiser. "I know this is pretty silly," Brittany said, "but right now I'm glad that the designers thought it would be funny to give us all calf masks."

Brittany held up a piece of leather that Heather figured should really be called a hood, not a mask, since it would clearly be covering her entire head. The front had been painted to resemble the face of a calf. The top had a large number 13 printed on it, to distinguish its wearer from the other girls who would be dressed in identical outfits.

As the hood was pulled on, Heather had to wonder if her head was larger than her cousin's, given how tight it felt. Once Brittany had finished lacing the back of the hood closed, leather squeezed firmly into her head and face from all sides. The eye holes and nose holes did line up perfectly, however, so she had to assume that it was sized well enough. She was rather surprised to find that the hood had no hole for her mouth, and that the leather was so tight that she could hardly separate her jaws. She tried to say something about this to her cousin, and was only able to mumble something rather unintelligible.

"Yeah, I find that kinda annoying too," Brittany said. "But it's not like you have to speak during the rodeo, and that's another good thing for us. Nobody will find out it's you under there and not me. Okay, one more piece to your costume."

Heather's eyes must have bulged in their sockets when she saw Brittany pull the very tall, leather collar out of her bag, because her cousin confirmed one more time that she was okay. The hooded girl just nodded and listened to the rational for the collar as it was buckled closed around her neck.

"Just in case the cowboy's lasso gets thrown over your head instead of the anchor on your back, this will make sure that you don't get hurt," Brittany explained. "But don't worry, it's never actually happened, it's just something that the lawyers insist on. The cowboys are really quite good with their ropes."

Heather wasn't exactly worried, but the feel of the leather around her throat was definitely bringing back memories and setting off sparks in her pussy. This collar was even wider than the one that had trapped her neck during the experiment, and it was curved to fit the line of her chin and her shoulders. The tall, stiff leather prevented her from bending her neck forward or back, which Brittany explained would help reduce whiplash when she was lassoed. To Heather, it just felt like an inexplicably delicious restriction to her movement.

"Okay, you're all done up," Brittany said. "Let's take a look at you."

Heather gave herself an examination in a mirror while her cousin made sure everything was in place. What she saw made her heart flutter. The outfit was definitely designed for maximum sex appeal. Bare legs, bare arms, and a bare stomach were on full display even when she was standing still. When she moved, the flimsy skirt and top showed off even more skin.

An entire stadium full of watching eyes would be roaming that skin. The only consolation was that those eyes wouldn't know her identity. They wouldn't know it was a straight-A psychology student under the mask; they would assume it was the same free-spirited girl who had been competing during the rest of the season.

Brittany timed it so that she and Heather arrived at the arena just moments before the cowgirl roping event started. She made a number of phone calls to her boss, telling him that she was running late but assuring him that a friend would drop her off on time, dressed, and ready to go. That way Heather could run right in with her mask on and not have to show her face or talk to anyone before the event began.

"Now remember," Brittany said before they parted, "as soon as you're done, come straight to the women's room in the back of the lower level, and don't let anyone else help you get your costume off. I'll meet you there, we'll trade outfits, and nobody will ever know it wasn't me the whole time. Thanks again, you are an absolute life saver."

Heather nodded, took a deep breath, and ran out of the car. She was glad that the timing required her to hurry, because it gave her less time for second thoughts. She just ran right to the door that her cousin had pointed out, where one of the rodeo staff was waiting to let her in and direct her to the rest of the cowgirls.

A matter of seconds after leaving the car, Heather had been hustled over to a group of nine other girls dressed just like her, all waiting for the cowgirl parade to start. Brittany had explained that all Heather had to do for this parade was walk with the rest of the girls across the arena. That sounded simple, until the scantily-clad student was actually out on the dirt and she felt the weight of thousands of eyes bearing down on her naked flesh.

Heather's knees buckled and all of a sudden she wondered if she had gotten herself in too deep. During that psych experiment, there had been cameras but there hadn't actually been anyone in the room with her. She had thought that it would be better to know who was watching her, rather than the unknown of whoever might be behind the cameras. That might have been true if the audience consisted of two or three academics. Instead, she was on display in front of a massive crowd of spectators who were hooting and hollering in support of all the smooth, bare skin in front of them. She had no idea that rodeos were so popular, or so rowdy!

Only by reminding herself that she was anonymous behind her hood was Heather able to find the will power to make it across the arena. She knew there wasn't any other real option at that point anyway. If she tried to bail out, she would almost surely end up exposing her identity, and that would get her cousin into even worse trouble than if her Brittany's pregnancy had simply been exposed.

Getting to the other side of the arena was a bit of a relief, if only a temporary one. All ten cowgirls were herded into the same pen that was used by the calves during the real calf roping contest. Heather really did feel like a piece of meat at that point, standing in the pen with the other girls as thousands of eyes beat down on them.

A man's voice came on over the loudspeaker, announcing the first matchup of the event. Heather was somewhat relieved that she wasn't called first, thinking it would be a good thing to watch one of the other girls go so she would know what to expect. She quickly discovered that knowing what to expect made things even worse.

The first cowgirl walked with one of the staff wranglers over to the pen's gate. Just ten feet away, waiting behind another gate, was the cowboy who would be chasing her down. The contrast between the two couldn't have been more striking. The cowboy was a big man, well-muscled and fully clothed in blue jeans, a flannel shirt, sturdy boots and a wide-brimmed hat. The cowgirl, on the other hand, wore clothes that could barely be considered decent and she couldn't have weighed much more than half what the man weighed.

To make the size difference all the more striking, the cowboy sat atop a large, powerful-looking horse, while the cowgirl stood down in the dirt. On top of all that, the girl had no use of her hands, while the man's nimble looking fingers held his horse's reins in one hand and a long lasso rope in the other. He kept his pigging string between his teeth, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

This was certainly not going to be a fair contest, but then, it wasn't meant to be. The point was to see how quickly the cowboy could rope the cowgirl, not whether the cowgirl could actually escape. All the same, Heather's mind bristled at the inequity, even as her heart trembled at the thought of being taken down by such a man.

A loud horn blew, and the gate in front of the cowgirl was thrown open. The wrangler gave her a completely unnecessary swat to her ass as she sprinted out into the arena. Heather was mesmerized watching the pumping legs and bouncing breasts of the fleeing cowgirl. Then, after what must have only been the two second head-start time, the horn blew again and the cowboy charged out.

What happened next seemed to go by in a blur. One moment the girl was on her feet running, the next moment there was a rope around the hitch on her back and she had been yanked right off her feet. To Heather, it seemed as though cowboy was on her before she even hit the ground, flipping her over and wrapping his pigging string around her ankles and wrists. The cowgirl was hogtied in an instant, then lay struggling in the dirt as the cowboy casually walked back to his horse.

The next six seconds seemed to stretch on forever, making Heather wonder if the judges' stopwatch had broken. They were supposed to blow the horn if the cowgirl stayed tied for six seconds, but after an eternity the girl was still belly-down in the dirt, trying in vain to tug one of her limbs out from underneath the pigging string. Her skirt had ridden all the way up, showing off her thigh straps and bare skin up to her high-cut panties.

Heather couldn't help but imagine that she was the one hogtied and helpless in the middle of the arena. That got her heart beating harder than she had ever remembered feeling it beat before. Could she really go through with this? Could she handle being roped and hogtied the way that woman had just been?

Heather decided that her heart might really explode in her chest if she was sent out into the arena to compete like that. She took as deep a breath as her adrenaline-filled body would allow, then walked over to the nearest wrangler to try to talk her way out of the situation. Maybe she could say that she was feeling violently ill and desperately needed to get to the bathroom, or just that she'd twisted her ankle and couldn't run.

She frantically started in on one of those excuses, only to find that between the tight fitting hood with no mouth hole and the din of the excited crowd, there was absolutely no way that she could communicate anything. The wrangler just laughed at her, told her she was just going to have to wait her turn, and gave her a playful swat on the ass to send her back to the rest of the group.

The contact with her butt sent sparks shooting through her body. She realized that being touched by a real person while helpless was going to be far more intense than being controlled by an inanimate machine. The logical part of her mind wanted to be mad that this stranger had so causally slapped her ass, and set off all the fireworks in her body. That was, however, how all the wranglers handled their cows, and the cowgirls had willingly signed up for the same treatment.

Heather wanted to give the man a piece of her mind, and also needed to deliver her excuse as to why she needed to leave the event, so she reached up to try to peel her hood off. She figured if she could just pull it up past her mouth, she'd be able to speak and wouldn't risk revealing her identity.

With the hooves on her hands, however, she was completely unable to grab the bottom of the hood or untie the laces down the back that held it in place. Frustrated, she brought her right wrist up to her mouth so she could undo the buckle and free her hand to do the work, only to realize that her mouth was covered by the hood and would provide no help whatsoever.

It was an obvious catch-22. She needed her hands to free her mouth, but she needed her mouth to free her hands. She couldn't believe that she hadn't realized this earlier; she must have been so taken aback by the hood and then by the collar, that she just hadn't put it together.

The flustered cowgirl tried to rub the buckle with her other trapped hand, but the buckle was fairly stiff and there was no way it was coming undone without the use of fingers or teeth. That meant that Heather was actually trapped within her costume until someone else freed her. She took a moment to compose herself after a wave of helpless pleasure washed through her, then walked back to the wrangler to try to plead her case once more.

She really did try her best to make her lie understood, but the wrangler couldn't understand a word. This time he was considerably gruffer, shouting that he had work to do and telling her to stop fooling around. He then grabbed the anchor attached to her back, spun her around, and gave her a much harder slap to her ass as he shoved her back towards the other cowgirls.

Heather was mortified-and electrified-by the rough treatment. She realized that there was going to be no subtle way to avoid the contest at that point. Surely if she made some massive scene, someone would pull off her mask and ask her what was going on. Then she would be discovered, and of course she would still be essentially helpless and in the hands of some wranglers who would be very upset with her. She didn't really think they'd do anything terrible to her, but it might well be worse than just going through with the event. Her only real option was to go forward. She tried to steel her resolve and prepare to be roped.

Watching girl after girl get taken down by big strong cowboys did not help build Heather's resolve. She kept hoping she'd be called next so that she could get it over with, but the announcer kept calling the other girls instead. No matter how fast those girls ran or how nimbly they tried to dodge, they always ended up with the lasso around their anchor, yanking them off their feet and into the dirt. Some girls then tried to hide their arms to prevent from getting hogtied; some even tried to fight back. Regardless, the cowboy was always able to pin them face-down, pull their limbs behind them, and wrap his pigging rope around their ankles and wrists.

Heather's apprehension grew with each girl she saw get taken down and tied up. The knowledge that she would only be hogtied for six seconds before being released didn't help one bit. Each time she saw the pigging rope get tied off, it seemed to take an eternity before the judges blew their horn and the cowboy walked back to set his calf free. How on earth was she going to survive that eternity?

From her psychology studies, Heather knew that the perception of time could vary widely based on a person's mental state. On one level, she understood that her own arousal and agitation were to blame for the apparent lengthening of the six-second hogtie period. That knowledge, however, did nothing to help her address the problem. She knew the only solution was to try to calm down, but with each passing round her anxiety only grew.

By the time Heather was the only cowgirl left in the pen, she was so worked up that she almost didn't realize that when the announcer referred to Brittany, he was really referring to her. It turned out that Brittany had amassed the best running record of any of the cowgirls that season. She had therefore been paired with the cowboy who had the best roping record of the season. If she did well, she would be the champion cowgirl. Likewise, if the cowboy did well, he would be the champion. They could not, however, both win.

"Can the talented Sean Beatty catch and tame the wild beast?" the announcer asked the crowd. "Can the beautiful Brittany evade the master's rope?"

The crowd was really fired up to see this final, winner-take-all match. No one was more fired up than Heather. The man sitting on his horse just ten feet away must have been the most handsome cowboy of the group. He had a dark complexion and a powerful frame, and some of the biggest hands she had ever seen. In a matter of seconds, those big, strong hands would be on her body, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her heart was beating so hard she worried it might literally break one of her ribs.

When the gate in front of her opened, Heather started sprinting without even thinking about it. She barely registered the gratuitous slap on her ass from the wrangler behind her. All she felt was an animal urge to get away, and she ran faster than she had ever run in her life. Of course, her top speed was still no match for the horse galloping behind her. She felt puny compared to the massive animal, and had a fleeting concern about getting trampled.

In an instant, that concern was wrenched from her mind as she felt a massive tug from the harness around her thighs and shoulders. Though she had seen the same thing happen to nine girls before her, she was momentarily confused about what was going on. Before she knew it, she was on her back in the dirt and she saw the cowboy striding towards her, his pigging sting held at the ready between his teeth.

Heather was desperate to get away. Scrambling onto her feet as fast as she could, she tried to run, forgetting that the anchor on her back was still tied to the large horse via the cowboy's lasso. All that cowboy had to do was give his lasso a tug and she was pulled back off her feet, to the great delight of the crowd.

The strapping cowboy was on her then, and though she struggled like a wildcat, she quickly felt her limbs get yanked behind her. Her strength was no match for the man's powerful muscles. She was absolutely helpless in his hands, his big hands that gripped her with confidence and strength. Those hands, however, left her body almost the instant they first touched her.

Heather wondered if the man had somehow forgotten to tie her, then she realized to her amazement that the job was already done. Her wrists and ankles were secured together behind her. She was lying hogtied in the dirt, a captured calf that the whole world was watching.

While the six second waiting period had seemed to drag when Heather watched the other cowgirls, it was nothing compared to the eternity that she herself was forced to endure. Her whole body felt alive in a way it had never been before. The thousand eyes burning into her naked flesh each somehow transferred their energy into her, giving her an intensity of feeling that was surely many times greater than her nervous system was designed to take. She felt herself tugging at her bonds, but each tug only confirmed her helplessness and set off another massive explosion in her brain.

The over-stimulated girl knew she should just try to lie still for her own sake, but logical decision making no longer held any sway over the actions of her body. She continued writhing in the dirt, riding higher and higher on the ever increasing volume of the crowd's cheering.

At long last, she heard a horn blow and saw her captor approach once more. Instead of untying her, however, he just stood over her as the judges announced the final score. What had seemed like a terrifyingly long run to Heather had actually been a record-setting short time for the cowboy. He had won the day's event, and had therefore been named the champion of the entire season.

"As a prize for his victory," the announcer's voice boomed, "our champion cowboy gets to 'wink wink' carry his captured calf home with him. Let's hear it again for Sean Beatty everyone!"

The crowd roared their approval. Heather just laid there and grunted, unsure what the announcer's statement meant for her. She desperately wanted to get free at the same time that she desperately wanted to feel the cowboy's big hands on her body once more. The process of getting untied was supposed to provide both. Instead, she was apparently going to get the hands without the freedom. Her body was thrilled. Her brain wasn't so sure. Neither had any actual say in the matter.

The cowboy had gotten back on his horse and guided the animal to stand right next to her. Heather felt herself get lifted off the ground via the anchor on her back. The cowboy was pulling her up via his lasso as if she weighed no more than a child. When she was level with the horse's back, she felt his big hands grab on to her waist and rotate her upright. Those hands, manipulating her body with ease, delivered blasts of pure pleasure wherever they touched.

The cowboy placed Heather down, upright on the horse, just in front of his saddle, with her knees straddling the animal's back. The hogtie that still held her meant that her knees were kept bent and her hands were useless behind her. Therefore, all of her weight ended up resting on her crotch.

To make matter worse, Heather couldn't help from sliding backwards, causing the pommel of the saddle to press into her lower back and forcing her to lean forward. She could not, however, lean all the way forward and rest her body on the horse's neck, since the cowboy held her firmly upright with one strong hand. The resulting position directed all pressure straight onto her pussy, which was protected only by the absurdly thin fabric of her panties.

If Heather could think straight, and if she had any ability to communicate, she might have told the cowboy behind her that her position was completely unacceptable. As it was, she could do nothing to prevent the cowboy from spurring his horse into a trot. Each time the horse landed, her pussy was ground further into the animal's back, sending yet more shock waves through her tormented body. She was mortified to feel an orgasm building and only hoped she could delay it long enough to get out from under the eyes of all the spectators.

The cowboy, unfortunately, was in no rush to leave the spotlight. He guided his horse in a full victory lap around the arena, showing off his prize to all the onlookers. Heather knew her bare legs were on full display. She knew her bouncing breasts were front and center. All she cared about, however, was the growing tidal wave in her pussy.

The humiliation, and the feel of the strong hands that held her in place, only built that wave further, and it crested long before the trotting horse left the arena. At that point, the trembling girl was too far gone to care if the crowd recognized her spasms for what they were or simply assumed she was shaking with the bouncing of the horse.

Heather came back to earth as the cowboy was guiding his horse into a private stall marked with his name. He hopped down, then lifted her off and set her gently on her knees in the hay.

"Brittany, I'm so happy I could kiss you," he said as he untied the laces at the nape of her neck and pulled the hood off her head.

In Heather's post-orgasmic glow, she really just wanted the gentle kiss from the big cowboy who had captured her. She failed to remember that having her mask removed was a big problem.

"What in the hell?" the cowboy shouted loudly, before switching to a harsh whisper. "Who the fuck are you? I don't know what kind of trick you're playing, but I'm not going to let you ruin my victory. You're just going to stay put right here until I figure out what to do."

Heather opened her mouth to try to form an explanation, but as she did the cowboy stuffed his handkerchief inside and pulled the tight hood back down over her face. She felt the laces get tightened even more than before, ensuring that the cloth wouldn't be leaving her lips and that she was even less able to make noise than before.

Her body tensed as the man's hands again went to her waist and lifted her up, this time depositing her in an empty oak barrel in the corner of the stall. All she could do was shake her head pathetically, which did nothing to prevent her captor from fitting a lid onto the barrel, plunging her world into darkness.

Heather was left in a kneeling hogtie, out of view of any prying eyes but even more helpless than before. She tried again to wriggle out of the pigging string that bound her wrists and ankles, but soon decided it was impossible. She might have been able to get free if she had the full use of her fingers, but those digits were trapped securely in the tight confines of the hooves that encapsulated her hands. Likewise, she might have been able to make herself heard over the din of the rodeo if she had the full use of her voice, but between the handkerchief and the hood, her pathetically soft calls for help were definitely not going to be heard by anyone.

The trapped girl had no choice but to wait, bound in her uncomfortable position and still wearing her sexy costume, until the cowboy decided what he wanted to do and came back for her. The various possibilities bounding around her brain made her worry. They also made her hornier than hell.

Brittany waited in the bathroom for a long time after the cowgirl roping event. She wondered where the hell her cousin had gone. Had she forgotten which bathroom they were supposed to meet in? Or had something else happened?

The pregnant cowgirl really didn't want to risk going out into the rodeo for fear of being caught, but she couldn't just wait forever and she had to find out where Heather had gone. She pulled her sweatshirt's big hood over her head, hoping it would hide her face from anyone who might recognize her, and went to seek out the cowboy that she heard had been assigned to compete against her.

When she finally found Sean, she pulled him into a private corner before revealing herself.

"You!" he shouted before she yelled at him to keep his voice down. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Why weren't you in the competition today, and who the hell is the girl I've got trapped in a barrel in my stall?"

"You have her where?" Brittany shouted before getting the volume of her own voice under control. She continued in a hushed but steely tone that scared the much larger man, "We both would have been fine if you'd just let her go like you were supposed to. Now she's been tied up in a barrel for almost an hour and she's probably going to press charges against you, me, and this whole organization. What the fuck were you thinking? No, don't answer that, I know that thinking isn't your strong point. Let's just go see if it's going to be possible to straighten things out."

The two decided they would need some real privacy before freeing the girl they feared would be beside herself with fury. As gently as possible, they moved the oak barrel containing the bound cowgirl out of the semi-private stall and into a truly private room. Brittany didn't like the idea of bumping her cousin around inside the barrel or leaving her tied up any longer than necessary, but she wanted to maximize her chances of calming the prude girl down before anyone else got involved.

Brittany started spewing excuses the moment they lifted the lid off the barrel. She continued apologizing and asking how she and Sean might make up for everything as she unlaced the hood and pulled it off the bound girl's head. The babbling continued even as she started to pick at the pigging string.

As soon as Heather was able to spit the handkerchief out of her mouth she yelled, "Stop!"

Heather turned to the cowboy and blurted, "Make it up by taking me, right here, right now, exactly as I am." The look in Heather's eyes and the lust in her voice left no doubt as to what she meant, and the invitation was all the cowboy needed.

Brittany, after getting over her momentary shock, just fished a few condoms out of her purse, left them on a table, and said, "Well, okay then. You two have fun. Call me when you're done."

Brittany couldn't be sure that her cousin even heard her, and certainly didn't expect a phone call any time that night. She was a little hesitant to leave Heather as helpless as she was, but Sean wasn't really a bad guy. Hell, he might be the father to Brittany's baby, and while she had slept with more than one of the cowboys, she had always tried to pick only the best. He could be a bit thick, but he wasn't likely to do anything else as stupid as leaving a girl bound and unattended in a barrel.

Given that Heather was apparently quite turned on by the barrel treatment, it seemed impossible that Sean would do anything that the girl actually disapproved of. Brittany just shook her head and told herself she owed her supposedly-reserved cousin a serious re-evaluation.

Heather had gone to the rodeo expecting only to take a step or two towards exploring her unexpected love of bondage. She ended up finding someone who loved to tie her up as much as she loved to get tied up. Can a Cowboy and a Psychologist really make it together? Who knows, but after the insane night of love making the two shared, one thing was damn sure: they were going to try.