Bling Cowgirl Boots Novels & Stories

“Speaking of…Chassie. Over here.” Skylar turned and watched as the woman sauntered toward them—saunter being the operative word. Her gait screamed one hundred percent cowgirl. So did her clothes, she was no rhinestone belt wearing buckle bunny. She wore battered lace-up boots, skin-tight faded jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt emblazoned with, “Real Cowgirls Do It Best in the Dirt”. Dark brown hair as long and glossy as a horse’s tail was plaited in a single, thick braid that fell past her butt. An angular face—apple cheekbones, pointed chin, broad forehead and a generous mouth that hinted of Native American ancestry.

I want to remember what it’s like to be owned by him. I reach behind me, holding on to the edge of the saddle to keep myself steady as he yanks at the fabric at my waist. I lift my hips, allowing him to pull the fabric off. He rips my panties at both sides, stripping me until I’m only wearing a pair of cowgirl boots. Cade’s hands are warm as he pushes my thighs open. I rest my feet on the edges of other saddle stands, baring myself to him.

I did have a relative in Utah, and he might actually be in the hospital. On Saturday I arrived at her home at nine in the morning with the extra helmet. It fit. We went to The Boot Barn and got her into a nice pair of western boots, perfect for sitting on the back of a bike. The saleswoman was a biker and helped a lot. She recommended boot socks and we got three pair. She also recommended jeans she liked and told us how to season them. I didn't let Colleen see the tab. It was over three hundred dollars.

But there was something he loved about the way it was worn in, the stories it had to tell. He turned from the new saddle and his eyes fell on a pair of women's boots perched on a display table. They were fashioned of tan leather, with pointed toes, and embroidered with purple flowers here and there. He picked one up and gazed at it, turning it this way and that. If Jenny's going to be working with the horses, he mused, she should have more foot protection than those flimsy sneakers I bought her. "Those would look beautiful on you," Roberto joked as he placed Cole's repaired saddle on the counter. "They go with your eyes." The man laughed heartily.

The boots matched some of the embroidery on the dress, and the way they climbed up her legs toward her thighs once again had my mind going places I didn't want it to go right now. "I think so," she answered, breaking me from my daydream. "How much for the boots?" I asked the woman who was still busy stitching more shoes. She looked up to see what Sage had selected and studied the boots. "Twenty rone," she answered, looking back to her work. This was an expensive town to live in. I was glad we were only passing through. "Thank you," Sage said, still not moving from her spot. The craftswoman's head snapped up, ancient gray eyes studying Sage.

Once it was on he felt something similar being slipped onto his left foot. The boy was finally allowed up off the enema rail and he was able to pull up his right leg enough to see what was on his feet. He was wearing very strange leather boots, but instead of soles like regular shoes, his boots had horseshoes under his toes. The inside of the boots were designed to force Cody to only walk and stand with his toes over the horse shoes, which was extremely uncomfortable and awkward.

GENEVIEVE, had chosen to replicate the Bratz doll "Wild West Yasmin." Her hair was a cascade of chestnut waves, secured with a bandana that matched her bold turquoise eyeshadow. She tugged at her fringed suede miniskirt, ensuring it fell just right over her cowgirl boots. The corset top she'd found at a vintage store cinched her waist, emphasizing her free spirit. She was the kind of girl who'd climb the highest tree or dare to kiss a frog, all in the pursuit of a good story.

Walking away, he waves for me to follow and leads me to the tack room at the front of the barn. I close my eyes and breathe the smell of horse and leather in deeply, and when I open them, Beau is staring right at me, a soft smile playing across his lips. He doesn’t say anything, just turns around and rummages around on a shelf, pulling out a pair of cowboy boots. Holding them upside down, he knocks the heels together a few times, giving them a good shake. “Always check for spiders,” he says giving them another hard knock. I hope he’s joking, but I don’t think he is.

“Good girl.” She collared me first. The thick black leather band was heavy around my neck, engraved in gold with “Factory Cow #47 – Elena – Heavy Producer – Breeding Stock.” A large brass cowbell hung from the front, jingling with every movement. Next came the tail. She lubed a thick, flared butt plug and worked it slowly into my ass until it popped past the tight ring. A long, silky black-and-white cow tail swayed behind me, brushing the backs of my thighs. The fullness in my ass made me moan again, another low “Moooo” escaping my lips.

She couldn’t wait to surprise her new friend with it once they got settled. “I hope this is alright?” Whitney splayed her palms out on the denim surface of the skin tight jeans from Urban Outfitters and grinned impishly. So she does own a pair of boots. Hollis whistled in approval at the tan hiking style footwear, and let her eyes trail up to Whitney’s cotton pink sweater with the words “Candy Girl” inscribed on the center. The other girl’s hair was tied up in a messy bun, and even without makeup her skin gave off a fresh, dewy glow.