We ride up under your blooming hanging tree. It’s just you, me, and Blackie now. I shiver as you put the noose over my head and gently slide my braids out of the loop. The noose around my neck makes my whole body realize and feel it. This is it. I will be hanged now. For real. There’s no escape. Only the noose around my neck. The feeling is extremely claustrophobic. Yet it makes me incredibly wet. I will swing. I will be strung up. The warm horseback under me will slide away. And I will hang. Under your blooming hanging tree.

I can feel your eyes on my milky white collarbones and slender naked shoulders. I realize that my short breaths make my breasts bounce ever so tenderly under the thin red dress. You lift the slipknot. I hear the sound of the rope slide through the knot behind my left ear. I swallow, and feel the tight rope jump over my larynx. I shed a tear. It runs down my cheek as the noose closes my throat and changes my heavy breath into the small sounds my tongue makes as it is forced hard up against my palate. It sinks deep into my skin while the slipknot tilts my head to the right, twists it ever so slightly to the left, and stretches my soft neck. My legs slide, failing to find grip as my bare bottom is gently lifted from the horseback in front of you. My lungs work really hard now, still making my titties bounce merrily, but you can no longer hear me breathe. You talk into my ear with a low, comforting voice as you open your fly. With a hand between my legs you find a wet opening in my smoothness and aim as you slack the noose slightly, allowing me to impale myself on you. Your heavy hands on my naked shoulders help me down, stretching my soft neck as your tip gently pokes my womb. You realize that you’re my first as you feel my warm honey flow and leaves start to fall from the tree. You hush the horse and tell me it’s all right. That it is a perfectly natural thing here under your hanging tree. I am young, with the face of a child and the body of a young woman. For all you know, I may be too young to even be here. But as you told me on our way here: That’s none of your business. Too young or innocent for that matter: Your noose is one-size-fits-all. And it does... It fits my young neck perfectly. You whisper in my ear as you move your large cock deep inside me repeatedly:

“In a moment, little girl, Blackie and I won’t be here. But the noose will. It will carry you and feel more real than anything you’ve ever felt. From then on it will only be the two of you in this whole wide world. And once you’re there, I want you to relax and let the noose do the work. Don’t fight it. It will win no matter what you do. Just enjoy your hanging. I sure will. You will hang, girl. You will hang so beautifully.”

I moan, I cry, I tremble against your helping hand as you hurt me with your grand cock. I cum as I feel you jump and splash over and over deep up in my helpless body. We share the moment, the girl and her hangman. Blackie is patiently idle, as if he knows what’s going on. Then it’s over. You whisper in my ear as you withdraw:

“It’s time. I will launch you now, girl. Have a safe journey.”

You make sure the rope is secured and step down. Then you take Blackie’s bridle and look up at me. I look back at you with my eyes wide open in fear and excitement. With my back straight from the hard way you tied my wrists to my elbows I know you can’t help looking at my boobs that move with the pace of my rapid breath as you lead Blackie gently away from under me. The noose tightens, the limb bows gently and the slipknot changes the angle of my little head while my begging and crying is silenced. My bare bottom slides and my wetness dries against the big warm animal as I am slowly drawn backwards, before I leave the horseback for good. Birds take off in the tree above my tilted head as the limb takes all my weight and I start my pendulum move with leaves falling like confetti around me, and my bare shoulders and bouncing boobs make you realize once again why you love horse hangings more than anything.

Thanks to editor MephMarwood