Cowgirl Up

London storms into the bedroom in the exact same cowgirl costume Peyton’s already wearing, and the sight of it snaps something inside her. Peyton’s palm cracks across London’s face. London drops hard. Before the sting fades, Peyton stuffs a ball between her teeth, cinches her wrists behind her, then loops rope tight around her ankles. The door slams. London thrashes on the floor, writhing, bucking, until one knot finally slips. Free, she ducks behind the bedframe, breathing through her nose, waiting. Peyton steps back in and London lunges. In seconds Peyton’s arms are yanked back and locked, her body shoved face-down onto the mattress. A few ruthless tugs and she’s hogtied, gag forced between her lips. London leaves her there, wriggling and cursing into the rubber. Then Blake wanders in. Peyton tries to shake her head, to shout through the gag, but it’s useless. London is on Blake before the warning lands—arms jerked tight, body flipped, hogtied beside Peyton, another gag crammed home. Once both girls are trussed side-by-side, London’s crop whistles down across bare skin, first Peyton, then Blake, sharp stripes blooming. She tickles them next, fingers digging until muffled laughter turns frantic. Finally she lashes their bound bodies together with one last rope, leaving them pressed hip to hip, helpless and breathing hard. The bedroom door clicks shut. Peyton and Blake are left alone, bound tight, waiting for whatever comes next.