The Cowgirl Blues

Emily would have very much liked to get off the wooden horse.

Unluckily, her feet were caught in the stirrups. They weren't designed for an actual rider, and they'd somehow managed to trap her ankles, preventing her from moving her legs. She was held very tightly against the horse, her lady-parts pressed right up against the vibrating saddle, and no amount of wriggling would set her free.

She'd also have liked to cover herself up, seeing as how she was now completely naked in a room full of laughing people. Unluckily, her hands had gotten tangled in the reins. She wasn't sure how, exactly, but they'd become bound together around the horse's neck, giving her no way to hide her bouncing, jiggling breasts. She was tied down. If there was a way to escape, she couldn't think of it.

Of course, it was hard to think coherently about anything at the moment.

The shooting gallery ran the full length of a very long tent. People stood behind the counter, taking shots at targets that popped up from behind cactuses and outhouses. It was Wild West themed, of course. Bad guys fell out of windows, saloon doors swung open, Indians attacked and tiny wooden models of cowboys rode off into canvas sunsets.

The horse was mounted on a set of tracks that ran behind the counter. Once somebody turned it on by shooting ten outlaws in thirty seconds, then shooting the church bell, it was designed to ride back and forth along the gallery, in front of the display, neighing and bucking as it went. The bucker was broken, though, so it was really more of a vibrate than anything else.

It was supposed to stop riding a while, and go back behind the screen, but that part was broken too. So it usually just kept riding as long as it liked.

Emily sat on her horse, being paraded up and down before the crowd of laughing people with their phones out, stark naked, her tits bouncing and her face the deepest shade of red imaginable. All her willpower was focused on trying not to do one thing. Something she really, really didn't want to do in front of all these people.

She was trying not to cum.

She tried to think about ice cubes. She tried to think about the Chicago Cubs. She tried to think about her fourth-grade maths teacher, Mr. Blobb, and his bad habit of picking his nose and eating it. She tried to think about how she'd been caught naked and masturbating by dozens of people, the screen whipped away to expose her to the world in all her bare-breasted, panting glory... wait, no, not that!

She whimpered.

It still felt really good.

She really, really hated how good it felt. But she couldn't deny that it felt good.

Oh, god, no. Not in front of everyone. Don't make me...

"Howdy, partner!"

With an effort, Emily turned to peek behind her. She was being followed. Followed up and down the track by a small mechanical cowboy, attached to a metal arm, floating along behind her horse. It was holding...

Oh, no!

The cowboy was supposed to whip the horse along, but it had been installed out of place, so usually it just managed to whip the air just above the horse's back. This time, there was something in the air above the horse's back. A bottom. Specifically, Emily's bottom.

"Ow!"

"Whoa there, naughty girl!"

"Oww!"

"You're a real bucking filly!"

The cowboy's horsewhip was small by horsewhip standards, but it was made of real leather, and it stung. It lashed across Emily's upturned bottom, leaving a randomised pattern of thin red lines. She howled and kicked and wriggled and could not escape, even for a second.

"Ow! Ow! Owwwwmmhhyyygoooddddd...."

The horse hit the end of the gallery, stopped, turned and began to judder back the other way. The cowboy followed, spanking away.

"Calm down, wild thing! You're gonna buck me right off!"

Emily screwed up her red face, her breasts jiggling for all they were worth, her bottom striped with whipmarks, the saddle still bringing her clit to another plane of existence. She wasn't going to do it! Not in front of all these people! No! She was a good girl!

"God... yes! Yes, yes, yes! Wait, no! Don't look! No, stop, stooooopppp! Ohh! Yes! Yes, YES!"

As she screamed out her first public orgasm, her head tilted back in ecstasy, her hair falling down around her bare shoulders, the vibrating saddle didn't stop vibrating even for a second. After all, it was a carnival ride, not a sex toy. If some girl wanted to use it to get herself off, it wasn't going to stop her, but it saw no reason to give up on its job just because she was done. It kept going vibrating as strongly as ever, taking Emily towards the other end of the track. And the cowboy kept whipping away.

"Yes, yes... wait, no! No! Let me go! Oh, god, I'm sensitive! Stop!"

Some part of Emily wondered if this was her punishment. She'd wanted to cum. So she was going to be made to cum, over and over again, without rest, for hours and hours on end, with everyone watching. Tied up, naked and cumming. And getting her bottom whipped, of course. In front of the whole festival. It was the deepest, most complete mortification she could possibly imagine. Every nerve in her body quivered with shame.

And some part of her, though she really didn't want to admit it, was kind of enjoying it.