Chapter XVIII The Texas Thunderbolt
Jack walked over behind the bar and picked up the ancient undersized broom
that he'd seen Teresa use to sweep the floor when he'd first come in to the
cantina. As he expected from its appearance, it felt as if been home to a
colony of termites for a generation, but even though most of its insides seemed
to have been hollowed out, the broomstick offered intriguing possibilities.
With a quick snapping motion, Jack snapped the broom handle across a bony
knee, breaking off the sweeping end and leaving himself with a jagged-ended,
yard-long club. Jack smacked the slender broom handle against his palm, as he
walked back toward Teresa, who was trembling noticeably. Her blood ran cold as
she considered the possibility that her reptilian-eyed tormentor was going to
use this new weapon on her defenseless body.
Jack was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. There was no way in hell he was
gonna let his loud-mouthed sidekick have first crack at Teresa's delicious orbs
after he had gone to all the trouble of wrappin' em up in those tight white
ribbons!
Teresa looked from one desperado to the other in desperation -- the cane's
bite had been appallingly painful before; the thought of Black Jack Slocum
whipping her bound breasts with the wooden rod he was slapping against his palm
was inconceivable.
"I said, 'the first minute's mine'" Jack repeated coldly. "That OK with
you, Ern?"
Ernie looked a little glum, but assented. "Yeah, sure, Jack." Ernie, as
always, was deferential to the senior partner of the firm of Slocum & Gibbs.
"Back that sweet ass 'a yers right up against the bar, mija," Jack snarled.
"Yer gonna need it to hold you up." Black Jack Slocum bared his fangs at Teresa
as she tremulously retreated until her cane-marked buttocks pressed up against
one of the barstools. Ernie gave her asscheeks a quick squeeze as he kicked the
wooden stool out of the way, and then Jack put the jagged tip of the broken
broom handle into Teresa's belly button and pushed her backwards until her hips
were flush against the edge of the bar.
Ernie had overcome his initial irritation at Jack's taking over; this
promised to be good! With every passing second, Teresa's breast bondage seemed
to make her tits swell up bigger and harder and rounder as they mushroomed
boldly outward from the constricting breast-ropes.
"I'm fixin' to take me a little batting practice, Teresa," Jack grinned.
"Less'n you decide you wanna tell my third base coach, here, what you done with
his money?"
It hadn't occurred to Ernie before, but in their trussed-up state, Teresa's
boobs did somewhat resemble a seamless pair of tawny, over-sized baseballs. He
was itchin' to get his own hands on those babies, now that Jack had cinched 'em
up so nice. But tonight, as always, Black Jack was batting lead-off.
Teresa's dark eyes were glazed; she stared at Jack's weapon blankly, as if
she could not credit the evidence of her brown eyes. But she did not, or could
not, speak.
Jack stood slightly to Teresa's right and a few feet back -- far enough
away to take a nice full swing.
"Batter up!" Ernie called out. "Step right up to the plate, partner,'
Ernie cheered. "Let's see you lay into them beisbols! They called him
'Joltin' Jack, The Texas Thunderbolt', back in east Texas, mija. Sweetest
swing you ever saw!"
Teresa's tear-filled dark eyes were aghast with horrified disbelief.
"No...no.. you can't.."
"Yeah, but I'm a little outa practice, Ern. But let's see if I can't smack
me a double," Jack grinned as he leered down at the bloated, brown-tipped
spheres that protruded so provocatively from the tit-choking ropes.
"Play ball!" Ernie barked.
The words had hardly left his mouth when Jack swept his hollowed cudgel
back with one hand and, then swung it in an upward arc toward the taut
undercurves of Teresa's breasts with a swing worthy of the great Cap Anson
himself.
WHUPPPPPP!!!, the improvised bat embedded itself deep in Teresa's abused
pleasure-mounds, its jagged end raking the side of her left breast.
"Aaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiieeeeeaahhhh!!" Teresa screamed, as she sank to her knees
in agony.
"On your feet, mija." Jack growled. "Hell, I only got a piece of that one.
Let's see if I can't make better contact this time. On your feet, I said!
Andale!"
As their tortured prisoner struggled to her feet, Ernie noted that Jack's
swing had opened up a red-edged gash just below the nipple on Teresa's left
breast.
"Yeahhh, you got some good wood on that one, Jackson," Ernie enthused, as a
second thin stream of crimson began to flow. "But you got under that one a
little. Let's see you straighten out that swing this time."
Jack gave his diminutive sidekick a toothy grin. Then, like a good batsman,
he practiced his stroke by slowly taking the blood-stained rod back on a
horizontal plane and then deliberately guiding it forward. He let the wicked
broom-handle kiss the tips of Teresa's rigid brown nipples, daubing them
scarlet, for an instant, before drawing it back again along the same plane.
Twice more he repeated this motion, grooving his stroke. The tips of Teresa's
young breasts shivered as if she were naked in a hail-storm.
"Hold still, darlin'," Jack warned, "Or I'm gettin' out the matches
again." Teresa took a deep breath and tried to compose herself - anything, even
this, was better than the bright-burning lucifers.
"That's better," Jack acknowledged and the he took the rod all the way
back, extending his long and powerful right arm to its fullest, before sweeping
it forward with a savagery that would have propelled a baseball to the deepest
reaches of a Texas ballfield.
"WHHUPPPPPP!!!!" This time the makeshift rod unleashed every scintilla of
its violent energy on the very centers of Teresa's breasts, hammering her dark
chocolate nipple-buds violently back into the surrounding breastflesh.
"AAAAAAAUGGGGHHHHHAAAAAHH!!!" Teresa screamed the screams of the damned, as
she absorbed the atrocious punishment before crumpling slowly toward the floor,
just managing to brace her fall by leaning over one of the barstools.
Amazingly, though, despite the savagery of Jack's blow, Teresa's brown and
battered nipple-nuggets sprang back to life with a youthful resilience that was
remarkable to behold.
Jack had to give her credit. He had ripped into Teresa's lovely breasts
with everything he had, but still she refused to talk. He was more than ever
convinced that Teresa didn't have Ernie's dough.
But Ernie wasn't so sure. And he'd been concealing something behind his
back ever since he had come out of the kitchen....