A Real Cowboy

I always wanted to be a real cowboy. Not a cowgirl, a cowboy. I can’t help seeing cowgirls as some sort of fantasy cowboy. And it’s not that I don’t like being a girl. I’m quite happy with who I am. It’s just that I believe a cowboy is the real thing.

It all began when I saw my dad and his workers tying cattle. I know that for many people, it is a brutish activity. If it were for them, they would forbid it. But for me, it was a metaphor for dominance. Of course, at that age, I still didn’t know what dominance was, but I knew that it was my kind of thing.

It’s not easy to be “kinky in the prairie”, if you know what I mean. And it gets worse if you want to play the role of a woman. 9 out of 10 cowboys won’t let you tie them, no matter how much they love their woman. And the other one will agree as long as nobody finds out.

I thought that if I showed myself tough with the boys, one of them would eventually agree with my idea. It’s weird, but, if understood as a boy’s game, a cowboy would allow himself to be tied by another cowboy. Anyway, things were going fine, except that Jeb Hancock was always bullying me. And it was Jeb that I liked the most out of all my father’s workers.

So, one afternoon, I’m working at the barn, and Jeb comes in. He starts teasing me, and before we realize it, we’re fighting on the straw. At some point, he tells me that I’m not and will never be a real cowboy. I get so upset that there and then I tie him like I tie the cattle. He fights back, but it’s useless. By the time I finish tying him, I’m breathing heavily and on the brink of orgasm.

“I’m a real cowboy”, I tell him before leaving the barn and letting him tie up the whole night.

On the next day, he said he loved me, and I kissed him.

This is my Shibari story.