Chapter XVI A Tale of Tortures Past
As Ernie the Weasel pleaded with a glowering Black Jack Slocum to subject
their dark-haired prisoner to some severe breast bondage, the beautiful Latina
looked from Ernie to Jack and back again in abject horror. She knew that some
men liked rough sex; she knew that there were men who enjoyed hurting women.
But she had no idea that there were men who enjoyed abusing a woman's body in
such a depraved fashion. She knew that protesting was of little use, but she
could not stop herself from shaking her head from side to side and feebly
imploring, "Please ...no ... I beg you."
"Then talk, mija! Where's my fucking money?"
"Please ... I know nothing ... I have told you so all night ... Please ...
Just go ... I will say nothing."
Ernie Gibbs squinted through his good eye and chuckled. "That's OK,
sweetheart. You can't hold out much longer. Go ahead and get started, Jackson.
I reckon I saw me something in the kitchen that'll loosen her pretty little
tongue oncet you finish workin' on her sweet tits!" Ernie gave each of
Teresa's cane-ravaged nipples a nasty twist before turning on his heel, and
winking at his sinister sidekick as Slocum began uncoiling a a length of white
cord....
********
As he moved toward the kitchen Ernie's thoughts turned to the bizarre
story Jack had related to him across a campfire, a few nights after their flight
from the Wilson Ranch.... {for the full story, see "The Outlaw's Revenge"
chapter 13}
In his deep, rasping voice Jack had recounted what had transpired in the
hours after Honey Wilson had gotten loose from her bonds in the middle of the
night, and had accidentally shot Ernie during a struggle for his gun. How the
delicious young blonde had left Ernie Gibbs lying unconscious alongside the
corral gate, while she had begun to run, naked as a jaybird, toward the haven of
the Dunbar ranch a few miles down the road.
That lone gunshot had roused Jack Slocum from a deep, half-drunken sleep.
After determining that his partner was unconscious but alive, he had angrily set
off after Honey Wilson atop his black stallion, Cyclone. He had finally caught
up to her at daybreak, when she was only a few hundred yards from safety, in a
field studded with prickly chaparral.
*******
Jack had paused then to light one of old man Wilson's cigars in the
campfire, and he had taken a long swig from a bottle of stolen bourbon, before
continuing with the story. He went on to tell how pissed off he had been at
bein' woken in the middle of the goddamn night to chase after their escaped
prisoner, and how he had vowed, as he tracked Honey down, to make the blonde
tease pay dearly for disturbing his sleep.
When he'd finally caught up to the long-legged beauty and lassoed her from
behind, Jack had gagged her and tied her hands behind her, giving her gorgeous
peaches-and-cream melons an extra bit of jut, not that her youthfully firm
knockers had needed it. And then he had taken some black rope, not much thicker
than twine, from his saddlebag and started looping it around Honey's luscious,
pink-nippled breasts.
Normally Jack Slocum wasn't much of a talker, but as he began to recount
the details of Honey' recapture, Ernie found himself listening breathlessly.
Him and Jack had shared a lot of adventures with more fine-lookin' women than
Ernie could count, but somehow he'd never been around to see one of Jack's
tit-ropings. As Jack continued his story, Ernie's cock slowly began to swell in
his filthy dungarees, until it was hard as a hunk of fool's gold.
********
Jack had related how he'd wound the black rope as snugly as he could around
Honey's pinkening pleasure-globes. He had tightened the cords mercilessly, until
the faint bluish veins in her breasts stood out, and the numerous scratches that
Honey had sustained while running for her life through the brush of that lonely
field, had begun to seep tiny trails of scarlet. He told how the voluptuous
blonde had looked at her deliciously swollen and pain-wracked breasts in
agonized disbelief.
********
Black Jack had paused in mid-story, to take another long pull at the
bourbon he had swiped from the Wilson ranch. Ernie remember how his pard had
stared deeply into the eerie glow of the campfire, as if trying to preserve
forever, in his mind's eye, the erotic events he was describing. Ernie had
squirmed awkwardly during this brief interval, his prick pulsing painfully
against the too-tight crotch of his pants.
After lazily blowing a couple of smoke-rings at the crackling embers, Jack
had gone on to recount how Honey's bound and bulging tits had reminded him of
the sweet, round grapefruits he'd picked as a boy. Jack had chuckled gloatingly
as he remembered the look on Honey's horrified face when he'd told her how he
used to like to take a firm, ruby-red grapefruit in each of his big hands and
squeeze 'em until the juice ran out of 'em. When he told Ernie how he had
filled his hands with Honey's tightly-roped knockers and crushed them between
his powerful fingers, just like he had done with those long-ago grapefruits,
Ernie had almost come in his dingy dungarees.
Jack had told him how he had tried to lift the lovely blonde by her stiff,
swollen nipple-buds, and then, after failing in that attempt, he'd given her
creamy jugs a ferocious slap with the hard-knuckled back of his hand. How Honey
had slumped to her knees in agony on the dusty trail, and how he had picked her
up and back-handed her swollen, tightly-bound tits again.
Then Black Jack had taken the long leads from her breast ropes, and
hitched 'em to Cyclone's saddle horn. The black stallion had pulled the young
blonde beauty by her trussed-up love-gourds the whole two miles back to the
secluded swimmin' hole on the Wilson Ranch. Jack had followed on foot,
occasionally hurrying Honey along with a stinging flick of his whip across her
bare back, her rounded buttocks or her long, strong thighs.
When they had reached the pond Jack had untied Honey, so that she could
clean herself up a little. After she'd washed her hair and bathed her nude body
until it sparkled in the morning sun, he had jumped her again, slamming her down
on the soft grass along the edge of the tiny lake and then throwing himself down
on top of her. A brutal struggle with the athletic blonde had ensued. At one
point Honey had almost broken free, and had kicked him squarely in the face,
breaking his nose and causing his blood to gush everywhere.
Ignoring his pain, Jack had vengefully evened the score by pulling her
down again and cramming his choking horse-cock down Honey Wilson's throat until
she could scarcely breathe. Then he'd finished off the enjoyable matinee by
planting his hairy ass on Honey's rib cage, and using the side of his big hands
to crush her succulent tits together while his thumbs and forefingers abused her
taut nipples. Then he'd rammed his huge erection through the soft curves of
Honey's cleavage endlessly, until his sperm-heavy cojones, sore from a hundred
delicious collisions with Honey's firm young breasts, shot their viscous load
into her beautiful face and onto her blood-spattered treasures.
When Black Jack Slocum had finished his narrative and rolled over to get
some shut-eye, Ernie had lain there under the stars, his cock throbbing,
visualizing in his mind's eye each incident in Jack's erotic adventure, reliving
it vicariously, wishing that he could have been there to be part of it. When
Jack's snoring had grown regular, he had undone his fly and stroked himself into
an intense orgasm, tantalized by visions of black rope tightening inexorably
around Honey Wilson's superb breasts. He could almost see her tasty nipples
standing out like pink rivets, and he could almost hear her moans of anguish
echoing across the vast deserted prairie....
