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"description": "[i]Sunlight bathed Angel’s naked body in a warm, golden glow as she was tugged into the air high enough to peer down at the street. From the wrought-iron balcony of the third-story of the saloon, the view stretched out in front of Angel like a painting. Steamboats huffed lazy tendrils of smoke into the pastel sky, their twin stacks rising proudly as steamer traffic on the Tennessee River churned below. A grand paddle-wheeler, draped in red, white, and blue bunting, sat anchored at the pier, its gangplanks alive with porters hauling crates and passengers disembarking with travel-worn elegance. \n\nHorse drawn wagons and surries clanged along the cobblestone avenue beneath, green and creaking with life as vendors barked out their wares from sidewalk stalls. The mingled scents of salt air, freshly-baked bread, and hot gumbo drifted upward, twitching the dog’s nose. The Junkyard was a hole in the wall saloon along the docks, far away from the house on snob hill or the dalmatian filled apartment at 101. \n\n“Now isn’t this a be-e-utiful sight.” Buster’s voice cut through the warm afternoon air, confident but laced with just enough teasing to make her pulse quicken. The bare chested doberman gave the loose end of the line another yank, which Angel felt from her end through the pulley set in the roof above. “Real good. Like you belong in a painting or somethin’.” \n\nAngel rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress the smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, please. You wouldn’t know art if it bit you on the tail, Buster.” \n\n“That’s what I love about you,” Buster gave the rope a firm tug, and Angel gasped as the knots tightened against her body. “You always got that spark.”\n\n“And you’ll never catch it, Buster,” She snorted, gaining another foot with a hard jerk. \n\n“I dunno Angelcakes, the situation might say otherwise.” He chuckled, his fingers deftly working the ropes as he secured the final knot to a hitch on the railing.\n\nHe stepped back and put his hands on his denim clad hips, admiring his handiwork. Angel was suspended in midair now, her petite frame bound in an intricate hogtie. The ropes crisscrossed her body in a way that was both artistic and impossibly restrictive. The crotch rope dug just enough to be felt as she swayed gently, suspended four feet above the balcony floor. Her creamy yellow tail curled above her, and her expressive blue eyes were narrowed in defiance and anticipation. Her breasts pointed downward, the pink nipples firm and sensitive against the cool breeze. \n\n“Comfortable?” Buster’s tone was a mix of amusement and challenge as he walked around her, inspecting his work from every angle before standing in front of her. \n\nAngel arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping. “Oh, so comfortable. I could hang here all day.” She shifted slightly, testing the ropes. The pressure against her wrists and ankles was firm but not painful, and the sensation around her torso sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.\n\nBuster leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re something else, you know that?”“\n\n“So I’ve been told.” \n\nHe laughed, low and deep, before pushing her shoulder to give her a spin. The world blurred around her as she rotated, the cityscape coming into view. The balcony overlooked the bustling street below, and though she was secure in the middle of the space, the thought of being seen sent a thrill through her. \n\n“Yah like the view?” Buster asked, his voice dripping with amusement.\n\nHer eyes darted to the busy street below as she turned to face out. She could see people walking, chatting, completely unaware of the scene unfolding above them. “It’s… interesting,” she admitted, her voice a little breathier than she intended. \n\n“Would it bother you if someone looked up?” Buster’s grin widened. “See your naked tits hanging in the air. I’m sure the view from below is just per-er-erfect.” \n\nAngel hesitated for a moment, then shrugged—or at least tried to, given the restraints. This wasn’t her first time on display, and she wasn’t going to give him any pleasure of a fun response. The spin slowly eased until she was swaying back in forth in a lazy arc. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the sensations. The ropes were firm but not painful, the pressure grounding her in the moment. She felt weightless, suspended in midair.\n\nHe laughed again, clearly enjoying her bravado. “That’s my girl.”\n\n“I’m not your girl!” She snapped, opening her eyes to glare at him. “I only stayed with you ‘cause I was young and stupid. Now? I’m just young.\"\n\nBuster clutched his chest like she’d wounded him, letting out an exaggerated gasp. \"Ouch. Breakin’ my heart over here, Angel. And after all the nice things I was just sayin’ about you.\" He walked around her, his hand brushing against the ropes holding her aloft. He gave them a gentle tug, and Angel’s breath hitched as the pressure increased. “I know you. I know you like how this feels.” \n\nHe grabbed her feet and gave her another, harder, spin, and this time Angel let out a soft yelp as the world blurred around her. The sensation of being so utterly at his mercy was intoxicating. She felt a rush of adrenaline, mixed with something softer, warmer. He leaned against the railing and watched her twirl like a top until the rope holding her aloft went taught. Angel paused for a second, facing him with a hard glare, before the rope began to unwind and force her into an equally quick spin in the opposite direction. \n\nBuster’s gaze flicked downward, and something else crept into his smirk. He reached a hand out and caught the pom by her upper arm. He slowly turned her so that she was looking over the railing. \"Well, well… lookie there.\"\n\nAngel shook her head hard enough to audibly flop her ears, attempting to stop her vision from swimming. She frowned, following his line of sight. And then she saw her! The Dalmatian moved through the crowd below, her easy, bouncy stride unmistakable. The street lamps caught the soft sheen of her coat, her bright, expressive eyes scanning the street, unaware of the pair lurking above. Angel's stomach tightened, an instinctive jolt of nerves sparking in her chest.\n\nDolly.\n\nBuster hummed knowingly beside her. \"Now this is interestin’. You’re lookin’ a little tense there, sweetheart. Someone you don’t want seein’ ya?\"\n\nThe pom bit her lip, trying to find the words, but said nothing. \n\n“Went all silent there, for someone who was talking a big talk a few moments ago.” He pressed, his fingers trailing down her arm to where her hands were tied behind her back. He gave her hands a squeeze. \n\nShe forced a scoff, shifting her body within the bindings as if she could physically shake off the tension. \"Please. I’m not hiding from anyone.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" Buster drawled, his smirk deepening. \"Then why ain’t you callin’ out to her?” he pushed her towards the railing, so that her head hung over the edge. “Give her a bark? Maybe blow her a kiss?\"\n\nShe craned her head back and cut him a sharp look, jaw tightening. \"You’re real funny, Buster. Absolute comedian.\"\n\n\"Oh, I know.\" He let her swing back as he leaned in just a fraction, lowering his voice to a silkier tone. \"But you ain’t laughin’.\"\n\n Angel exhaled, slow and controlled, fixing her gaze on the street below while pointedly not looking at Dolly. She could feel Buster watching her, relishing every second of her restraint.\n\n\"What’s the matter, babe? Feelin’ a little guilty?\" he purred, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern of the rope on her hip. \"Or is it somethin’ else? Maybe a little rush? Bein’ up here butt-ass naked and wrapped up like a Christmas gift, her just down there, none the wiser… kinda thrilling, ain’t it?\"\n\nThe pom swallowed hard. Because damn him, it was. It was dangerous and reckless and entirely too tempting. The kind of bad decision that made her blood pump hot and fast. \n\nBuster must’ve seen it flicker in her eyes, because his smirk curled slow and smug. \"Yeah… that’s what I thought.\"\n\nShe gasped as the doberman let go of her and allowed the rope to finish unwinding. Her spin slowed into a lazy sway back and forth. Angel exhaled sharply, then snapped her muzzle in his direction, as if trying to bite him. \"Don’t get cocky.\"\n\nBuster laughed. \"Too late, babe. I’ve been cocky the second you stepped out of your panties.” \n\n“Fuck you!”\n\n“Oh, later. Guaranteed,” his smirk deepened. “You ready for the final touch, Angelcakes?”\n\nShe tilted her head meeting his gaze with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Final touch?”\n\nHe held up a ballgag, the black leather gleaming in the afternoon sun. “Open wide.”\n\nAngel’s big, floppy ears went backwards for a split second, but she perked them back up. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he pinched her muzzle and forced her mouth open. The woman let of a soft grunt as he slid the gag into place. The straps tightened behind her head, securing it firmly. Angel tested it, her movements restricted even further now.\n\n“Perfect,” Buster murmured, his voice low and satisfied. “You’re going to enjoy the sunset. Then, I’m lowering you into my bed and you’ll see just how cocky I really am.” \n\nHe grabbed her muzzle and gave her yet another spin, and this time Angel’s protests were muffled by the gag. The world blurred once more around her as she rotated, the sensation of being completely at his mercy sending a reluctant thrill through her.\n\n\n\n********[/i]",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "Sunlight bathed Angel’s naked body in a warm, golden glow as she was tugged into the air high enough to peer down at the street. From the wrought-iron balcony of the third-story of the saloon, the view stretched out in front of Angel like a painting. Steamboats huffed lazy tendrils of smoke into the pastel sky, their twin stacks rising proudly as steamer traffic on the Tennessee River churned below. A grand paddle-wheeler, draped in red, white, and blue bunting, sat anchored at the pier, its gangplanks alive with porters hauling crates and passengers disembarking with travel-worn elegance.
Horse drawn wagons and surries clanged along the cobblestone avenue beneath, green and creaking with life as vendors barked out their wares from sidewalk stalls. The mingled scents of salt air, freshly-baked bread, and hot gumbo drifted upward, twitching the dog’s nose. The Junkyard was a hole in the wall saloon along the docks, far away from the house on snob hill or the dalmatian filled apartment at 101.
“Now isn’t this a be-e-utiful sight.” Buster’s voice cut through the warm afternoon air, confident but laced with just enough teasing to make her pulse quicken. The bare chested doberman gave the loose end of the line another yank, which Angel felt from her end through the pulley set in the roof above. “Real good. Like you belong in a painting or somethin’.”
Angel rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress the smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, please. You wouldn’t know art if it bit you on the tail, Buster.”
“That’s what I love about you,” Buster gave the rope a firm tug, and Angel gasped as the knots tightened against her body. “You always got that spark.”
“And you’ll never catch it, Buster,” She snorted, gaining another foot with a hard jerk.
“I dunno Angelcakes, the situation might say otherwise.” He chuckled, his fingers deftly working the ropes as he secured the final knot to a hitch on the railing.
He stepped back and put his hands on his denim clad hips, admiring his handiwork. Angel was suspended in midair now, her petite frame bound in an intricate hogtie. The ropes crisscrossed her body in a way that was both artistic and impossibly restrictive. The crotch rope dug just enough to be felt as she swayed gently, suspended four feet above the balcony floor. Her creamy yellow tail curled above her, and her expressive blue eyes were narrowed in defiance and anticipation. Her breasts pointed downward, the pink nipples firm and sensitive against the cool breeze.
“Comfortable?” Buster’s tone was a mix of amusement and challenge as he walked around her, inspecting his work from every angle before standing in front of her.
Angel arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping. “Oh, so comfortable. I could hang here all day.” She shifted slightly, testing the ropes. The pressure against her wrists and ankles was firm but not painful, and the sensation around her torso sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.
Buster leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re something else, you know that?”“
“So I’ve been told.”
He laughed, low and deep, before pushing her shoulder to give her a spin. The world blurred around her as she rotated, the cityscape coming into view. The balcony overlooked the bustling street below, and though she was secure in the middle of the space, the thought of being seen sent a thrill through her.
“Yah like the view?” Buster asked, his voice dripping with amusement.
Her eyes darted to the busy street below as she turned to face out. She could see people walking, chatting, completely unaware of the scene unfolding above them. “It’s… interesting,” she admitted, her voice a little breathier than she intended.
“Would it bother you if someone looked up?” Buster’s grin widened. “See your naked tits hanging in the air. I’m sure the view from below is just per-er-erfect.”
Angel hesitated for a moment, then shrugged—or at least tried to, given the restraints. This wasn’t her first time on display, and she wasn’t going to give him any pleasure of a fun response. The spin slowly eased until she was swaying back in forth in a lazy arc. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the sensations. The ropes were firm but not painful, the pressure grounding her in the moment. She felt weightless, suspended in midair.
He laughed again, clearly enjoying her bravado. “That’s my girl.”
“I’m not your girl!” She snapped, opening her eyes to glare at him. “I only stayed with you ‘cause I was young and stupid. Now? I’m just young."
Buster clutched his chest like she’d wounded him, letting out an exaggerated gasp. "Ouch. Breakin’ my heart over here, Angel. And after all the nice things I was just sayin’ about you." He walked around her, his hand brushing against the ropes holding her aloft. He gave them a gentle tug, and Angel’s breath hitched as the pressure increased. “I know you. I know you like how this feels.”
He grabbed her feet and gave her another, harder, spin, and this time Angel let out a soft yelp as the world blurred around her. The sensation of being so utterly at his mercy was intoxicating. She felt a rush of adrenaline, mixed with something softer, warmer. He leaned against the railing and watched her twirl like a top until the rope holding her aloft went taught. Angel paused for a second, facing him with a hard glare, before the rope began to unwind and force her into an equally quick spin in the opposite direction.
Buster’s gaze flicked downward, and something else crept into his smirk. He reached a hand out and caught the pom by her upper arm. He slowly turned her so that she was looking over the railing. "Well, well… lookie there."
Angel shook her head hard enough to audibly flop her ears, attempting to stop her vision from swimming. She frowned, following his line of sight. And then she saw her! The Dalmatian moved through the crowd below, her easy, bouncy stride unmistakable. The street lamps caught the soft sheen of her coat, her bright, expressive eyes scanning the street, unaware of the pair lurking above. Angel's stomach tightened, an instinctive jolt of nerves sparking in her chest.
Dolly.
Buster hummed knowingly beside her. "Now this is interestin’. You’re lookin’ a little tense there, sweetheart. Someone you don’t want seein’ ya?"
The pom bit her lip, trying to find the words, but said nothing.
“Went all silent there, for someone who was talking a big talk a few moments ago.” He pressed, his fingers trailing down her arm to where her hands were tied behind her back. He gave her hands a squeeze.
She forced a scoff, shifting her body within the bindings as if she could physically shake off the tension. "Please. I’m not hiding from anyone."
"Oh yeah?" Buster drawled, his smirk deepening. "Then why ain’t you callin’ out to her?” he pushed her towards the railing, so that her head hung over the edge. “Give her a bark? Maybe blow her a kiss?"
She craned her head back and cut him a sharp look, jaw tightening. "You’re real funny, Buster. Absolute comedian."
"Oh, I know." He let her swing back as he leaned in just a fraction, lowering his voice to a silkier tone. "But you ain’t laughin’."
Angel exhaled, slow and controlled, fixing her gaze on the street below while pointedly not looking at Dolly. She could feel Buster watching her, relishing every second of her restraint.
"What’s the matter, babe? Feelin’ a little guilty?" he purred, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern of the rope on her hip. "Or is it somethin’ else? Maybe a little rush? Bein’ up here butt-ass naked and wrapped up like a Christmas gift, her just down there, none the wiser… kinda thrilling, ain’t it?"
The pom swallowed hard. Because damn him, it was. It was dangerous and reckless and entirely too tempting. The kind of bad decision that made her blood pump hot and fast.
Buster must’ve seen it flicker in her eyes, because his smirk curled slow and smug. "Yeah… that’s what I thought."
She gasped as the doberman let go of her and allowed the rope to finish unwinding. Her spin slowed into a lazy sway back and forth. Angel exhaled sharply, then snapped her muzzle in his direction, as if trying to bite him. "Don’t get cocky."
Buster laughed. "Too late, babe. I’ve been cocky the second you stepped out of your panties.”
“Fuck you!”
“Oh, later. Guaranteed,” his smirk deepened. “You ready for the final touch, Angelcakes?”
She tilted her head meeting his gaze with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Final touch?”
He held up a ballgag, the black leather gleaming in the afternoon sun. “Open wide.”
Angel’s big, floppy ears went backwards for a split second, but she perked them back up. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he pinched her muzzle and forced her mouth open. The woman let of a soft grunt as he slid the gag into place. The straps tightened behind her head, securing it firmly. Angel tested it, her movements restricted even further now.
“Perfect,” Buster murmured, his voice low and satisfied. “You’re going to enjoy the sunset. Then, I’m lowering you into my bed and you’ll see just how cocky I really am.”
He grabbed her muzzle and gave her yet another spin, and this time Angel’s protests were muffled by the gag. The world blurred once more around her as she rotated, the sensation of being completely at his mercy sending a reluctant thrill through her.
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