Cowboy's Dungeon

Moving with a smooth grace, Natalie hung her Stetson on the hat-hook just inside the barn door, and then stepped into her husband's playroom. Over the years, he had slowly added more and more sex toys, until the room could rival any dungeon of depravity. She paused just inside the threshold and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of tanned leather, sweat, and sex. If she listened closely, she could almost hear the echoes of her moans and screams from the night before.

Trembling as the memory fanned the embers of her lingering passion, Natalie continued her journey into the room. Ahead of her, along the back wall, stood a giant wooden cross where her husband often strapped her by her wrists and ankles, and whipped her ass to a rosy hue. Whips, paddles, and chains adorned one wall, while along the other a row of mirrors gave an air of class to the rustic room.
As she reached the center of the room, Natalie paused again. She ran her fingers over the waist high, saddled "horse," and felt the crotch of her jeans growing damp.

Attached to the ceiling, the homemade horse was a curious contraption; it was made up of a wooden bench with a saddle laid over it. It was held in place by ropes run through a series of pulleys and levers, and hung a few feet from the floor. At the flick of a switch, a motor started that would cause Andrew's invention to rock, tipping slightly forward and back with each motion.