Chapter XII A Birthday Spanking
After rinsing his hands, Ernie returned to the bedroom, where Jack was
patiently waiting, enjoying Teresa's frantic, face-down writhing on the bed.
"What's with the bar stool, Jack," Ernie asked.
"Well, partner, I thought we'd give our birthday girl, here, a friendly
birthday spanking. But the way I figger it -- if you're gonna give a pretty
girl a spanking, she oughta have her ass high in the air. Like this."
Black Jack grabbed Teresa by the hair again. But this time he also put a
hand under her midsection, and lifted her upward to a kneeling position on the
bed. Jack's thick middle finger found its way between her legs and dug into her
for a moment, while Teresa squirmed helplessly. When at length he removed his
questing finger, he said, "Now lay that bar stool crosswise on the bed. Right
in front of her, up against them pretty legs. That's right."
"I'm gonna untie yer arms, now Teresita." The kneeling dark-haired beauty
breathed a deep sigh of relief; her arms and shoulders ached from their long
captivity. "But only for about thirty seconds," Jack chortled, as Ernie slapped
his knee at the cruel jest.
In a minute or so Jack had undone the heavy bonds that imprisoned her arms,
and unwound the revolutions the ropes had made on her chest. The coarse ropes
had left deep impressions just above her wrists, around her upper arms, and
across the tawny skin of her back and chest.
Teresa had about ten seconds of relative freedom before the hard-eyed
gunman pushed her body forward over the stool that lay sideways on the bed.
Then Jack took a length of rope and wrapped it around Teresa's right wrist
several times, before lashing it securely to the front bedpost, down at mattress
level. Jack paused once or twice to jerk all the slack out of the rope, making
sure that Teresa was trussed up tighter than a calf at a west Texas rodeo.
When he finally did secure the rope to the bedpost, the well-toned muscles of
her right arm and shoulder were stretched to their limits.
It took the snake-eyed outlaw only another minute or two to imprison her
left arm in similar fashion. When he was done, Teresa's wrists and ankles were
securely lashed to the four bedposts. The tremulous light from the candles in
the four corners of the room highlighted the fact that every muscle in her arms
and legs was stretched bowstring-taut. Her thighs and midsection were angled up
over the over-turned stool, thrusting her delightfully curved derriere high into
the air. Teresa's dark-tufted pubic mound rubbed painfully against the edge of
the stool, and her opulent, dark-tipped love-globes hung from her chest, proud
and full and defenseless. Worst of all, Teresa thought, Ernie had lifted his
dreadful bag of tricks up onto the bed, and he was rummaging through it yet
again.
"Well, Jack, I just don't think an ord'nary spanking is good enough for our
Teresa. Especially since it's her eighteenth birthday. Seems to me that calls
for somethin' special. How about we welcome her to 'adultery' -- get it, Jack
-- adultery! Haw!! -- with these. Made 'em myself."
And Ernie withdrew two gleaming lengths of polished wood -- perhaps thirty
inches long, each tapering slightly to the diameter of his own pinky finger.
Leather grips covered the lower six inches or so of one end of each home-made
cane.
"Here, Jack, try it. You'll never find a purtier target."
Jack was partial to "Black Betsy", but as he swished the cane through the
air once or twice, he was impressed. While Ernie fondled the yielding flesh of
Teresa's shamefully upthrust bottom-globes with one hand and pinched an
alcohol-damp nipple with the other, Slocum slapped the cane down fiercely on to
the mattress a few inches from Teresa's left ear. The cane made a satisfying
pop! when it made impact with the mattress.
Teresa's heart sank -- the whoosh of the cane as it whistled past her ear,
and the resounding pop it had made when it hit the mattress, were ample evidence
of the speed with which it cut through the air. "Por favor," she moaned
miserably, as she squirmed in her bondage. "Please ? go ? I will say nothing to
anyone."
"But mija," Ernie smirked, "we can't leave without celebratin' yer birthday
right and proper, can we Jack?"
"I reckon that would be right ungentlemanly, of us, Ern. How many you
think we should give her? Eighteen?"
Teresa gasped through the lump that had formed in her throat. She could
not bear the thought of receiving eighteen cane-strokes across her taut, tender
buttocks.
Ernie bent down so that his damaged eye was only inches from Teresa's face.
"Aw, eighteen each, I think. Let's go all out -- a girl only has one eighteenth
birthday. Let's make it an occasion she'll never forget." Ernie cupped her chin,
and forced her to look him in the eyes, the one ghastly and the other brimming
with ferocity. "Just like I ain't forgot last Saturday night!"
Ernie straightened up and swooshed the cane through the air viciously once
as Teresa shuddered in terror. Ernie could see the muscles in her thighs and
buttocks quivering. He hadn't even touched her yet. But he was fixin' to give
that sweet Mexican ass something to quiver about soon enough.
"OK, Teresa -- here's the deal. We're gonna play us another game. The
Birthday Game. And of course me 'n' Jack hope you do better at this one than
yer sorry ass showing at 'Reach for the Sky.' To make sure we don't give you
too many birthday spanks, you're gonna keep count for us. After Jack hits you
the first time, I want you to say "Uno. Gracias, Senor Jack. Uno mas, por
favor".
Teresa listened to his words with barely-disguised dread, her
tequila-drenched breasts still tingling. Was there no end to their cruelty?
"But when I hit you the first time," Ernie went on, pleased with the
cruel game he had thought up, "I want you to say 'One. Thank you, Master Ernie.
Another, please.' And so on. Got it? Think you can remember all that?"
Teresa hesitated before answering. Bad choice. She heard a whistling sound
followed a split second later by a loud THWICCKK as Ernie's cane buried itself
in her thigh-flesh. "Aagghh!! she gasped.
"When I ask you a question, you answer, understand!" growled Ernie
menacingly. "And don't make too much noise or I'll gag you again, and we'll give
you twice as many. Got it?"
Teresa, nearly exhausted, was not at all sure that she had "gotten it".
But she nodded her head, the only part of her body that she could move.
"That's better. And don't fuck it up, Teresa. Cause every time you mess up
the count, or get us mixed up, or use the wrong lingo, you're gonna earn
(hee-hee, "Ern", get it, Jack!) a penalty stroke. Or the way me and Jack look at
it -- a bonus stroke. You got it?"
Teresa nodded hurriedly this time.
"Jack, my good man, you may have the honors," Ernie bowed clumsily, and
took a position on Teresita's right. Jack, still bare-chested, but wearing his
dark pants again, towered over their trussed up victim from his position on her
left. In the shimmering candlelight, Teresa could see the eerie and ominous
shadows of the two men on the wall above the sturdy iron headboard. And then
she saw the silhouette of the diabolical cane slide up the wall at moderate
speed and then disappear in a blinding blur of motion.
THWICKK!! "Aaah!" Teresa yelped in pain. Jack had taken careful aim and
whipped the meaty flesh of her left calf, about a third of the way up her leg.
"Well?" Ernie asked.
Choking back the pain and remembering the lines she had been instructed to
recite, Teresa mumbled, "Uno. Gracias, Senor Jack. Uno mas, por favor".
"Good. He'll give you 'uno mas' in a minute. But now it's my turn." And
the naked, ferret-faced little man stroked his depleted cock a few times and
slashed her sharply with the cane, high up on her bronzed right thigh.
"Aaah!! One. Thank you, Master Ernie. Another, please?"
Then Black Jack THWICCKED her sharply across her left calf again, this time
higher up. Teresa croaked out a pathetic "Ooouuww!! Dos. Gracias, Senor Jack.
Uno mas, por favor?"
Ernie countered by cracking her across her spread-eagled right thigh,
leaving yet another thin line on her lovely cafe-au-lait skin.
" Aaiagh!!" Teresa moaned as her smooth, bare thighs vibrated gently under
the force of the blow. "Thank you, Master Ernie. Another, please?"
Ernie looked down, and noticed that Teresa had closed her eyes in
anticipation of the next stinging blow. "C'mon, Jackson! Warm that ass up nice!
Cause I got her birthday present right here," he added, grabbing his crotch.
Winking slyly at his partner, Ernie the Weasel held up his hand just as Jack
was about to deliver a stinging blow to Teresa's upper thigh. But it was Ernie
himself who whipped his cane down sharply across the very summits of Teresa's
deliciously rounded buttocks. THWICCKK!!
"Aagghh!" gasped Teresa, and then, thinking that they were still
alternating blows, she choked out the necessary words, "Tres?. Dios, ayuda me ?
Gracias, Senor Jack. Uno mas, por favor".
"Wrong! That was me, sweetie. That's one bonus stroke for me, Jack.
You'd better keep them brown eyes open, girl!"
Jack slashed his cane across the tender flesh of Teresa's lower thigh,
leaving a fourth ruddy stripe across her left leg and eliciting another soft cry
of anguish. Teresa had barely finished mouthing her mantra, when Ernie ripped
into the meaty curves of her tempting buttocks yet again, laying this stroke
just below the prior one.
What an ass she had! Ernie thought. Most girls' butts were either too
bony, or too fat. But Teresa's was a springy, firm-fleshed delight, a sadist's
dream come true. Not too hard, not too soft. It was damn near fuckin' perfect,
was what it was! With every stinging stroke, the last six or eight inches of his
cane seemed to work its wicked way into Teresa's yielding bottom-flesh like a
warm spoon sinking into a scoop of melting ice cream.
"Let 'er have it Big Jack! I wanna see her ass smokin' like a Mexican
barbecue!"
Jack bared his teeth in a wolfish grin and moved directly behind their
beautiful bound prisoner. He slid the last few inches of the rod along the dark
groove between Teresa's inviting buttocks as she ground her hips futilely
against the barstool. The grim-faced desperado scratched at the rough stubble
on his chin while he ground the rounded end of the cane against Teresa's winking
bottomhole for a moment and then slid the slender shaft of the cane down her
sensual lust-crease and toyed with her fleshy labia for a few seconds. "Yeah,
mija, we're gonna have us some fun tonight!" he muttered gruffly as he took up
his position on the side of the bed once again. A moment later Teresa heard
the brief whistle of the cane a moment before it etched another line of fire
across her burning backside.
"Aaaieahhh!" she cried out. Jack's had been the worst cut so far. She
was barely able to gasp out the mandatory, "Gracias, Senor Jack."
Ernie eyed Teresa's spread-eagled body hungrily for a moment and then
followed with a fierce stroke that seared the base of her buttcheeks, sending
visible spasms of pain rippling through the body of his bound victim. Belts and
whips had their good points, but Ernie reckoned that there was nothin' quite
like the feel of a cane biting into helpless female flesh. Belts and whips
struck, and struck hard, but the 'feel' of the impact was somehow more
transitory. A good cane-stroke sent satisfying waves of power up through his
hand and arm all the way to his shoulder. The sense of mastery was visceral.
Was there any better way for a man to rejuvenate his spent lust than this,
Ernie wondered, as he and Jack continued to take turns etching scalding lines of
pain into Teresa's buttocks and thighs. His hairy balls were tingling again, and
his cock was coming back to life with a vengeance.
Jack was taking more time in between cane-strokes now, teasing Teresa with
the whip for a while before slashing it into her shapely bottom or across a
tautly-stretched thigh. Ernie used these longer intervals to lean against the
edge of the bed and grind one of Teresa's tequila-slick nipples between his
thumb and forefinger with one hand, while he stroked his reviving erection with
the other.
Ernie was an ass-man and when it was his turn to wield the cane he pretty
much concentrated on the alluring curves of Teresa's sweat-soaked buttocks,
THWICCKKing her tempting bottom-ovals savagely, sometimes laying the last six
eight inches of the rod across one cheek or the other, sometimes striping both
wiggling bottom-globes with the length of the cane. With each succeeding stroke
he added another dark line to the angry pattern of horizontal marks he had
painted on her naked behind, with each blow eliciting a tortured moan from their
spread-eagled prisoner.
Halfway through the count, the relentless duo switched positions, partly to
have access to the other side of Teresa's body, and partly to confuse her. Try
as she might, as the caning wore on and her stamina flagged, Teresa began to
make mistakes in the count, and twice she got confused and used Spanish to Ernie
or English to Jack. By the time they had reached fifteen strokes each, she had
earned five penalty strokes, two from Ernie and three from Jack, who kept score
by making a notch in a night-table with his Bowie knife each time she slipped
up.
Jack's third to last stroke was yet another punishing slash across the ripe
curves of her upthrust bottom. "Ooooooohhh," Teresa moaned. Her tawny buttocks
were en fuego from the fierce strokes of the cane. "Diez y seis. Gracias,
Senor Jack. Uno mas, por favor?"
Ernie moved around to stand directly behind her. Jack had sure had a good
idea about sticking that stool under her, Ernie thought. Teresa's body was
curved like a golden rainbow, her calves and thighs taut, with her elevated
bottom a perfect target at the very apex of the lovely arch.
Ernie rested the cane atop Teresa's plump left butt-cheek, bisecting it
vertically. A dozen angry horizontal weals darkened the smooth brown skin.
Ernie gently tapped the cane across them, letting Teresa feel the hard wood on
those fresh lacerations. And then Ernie, gripping the cane a little more
firmly, lifted it high and brought it down violently on her superbly rounded
bottom, leaving a livid dark line perpendicular to each of the others.
Teresa let out a full-throated cry of agony at that one. "Auuurgghh! O,
Dios. No mas, por favor. No mas!"
"Now didn't we ask you nicely to keep it down? You'll get a penalty stroke
for that one, Teresita, and you'll get another for not counting. You markin'
'em down, Jack? How many's that make -- seven? And I'm up 4-3, right?"
"Yup," the big man answered, as he used his knife to etch a seventh notch
into the night table. And moments later the rangy gunslinger ripped into
Teresa's dancer's thighs yet again, a few inches below the base of the sweet
groove that separated her compact buttcheeks.
Teresa convulsed in pain, but managed to squeak out, "Diez y siete.
Gracias, Senor Jack. Uno mas, por favor?"
"Damned straight you can have another one, mija," Ernie grinned and took a
step to his right. He let the cane rest on Teresa's right bottom-cheek this
time, again at right angles to the earlier strokes. And again, he tapped her
derriere, several times, just to let her know that another blow, every bit as
punishing as the last one, was in the offing.
Tap...tap...tap...tap...tap. Ernie let the suspense build. Teresa was
mewing in terror, and her coppery ass-cheeks were aquiver with apprehension.
Tap...tap...tap...tap... And then the terrible cane went up and then came
slashing down to explode on her resilient right bottom oval, leaving a searing
vertical gash of pain across the lattice of earlier marks.
"Aaauuugghh!," the poor Latina cried out, but less loudly this time. And
somehow she managed to find the words, "Seventeen. Thank you, Master Ernie.
Another, please?"
"You betcha you can have another! Go ahead, Jack." Ernie winked at his
partner. But it was Ernie who slashed her brutally between her wide-spread
legs, the cane savaging her most sensitive flesh.
"Aaaagghh!!" Teresa writhed in agony, to the extent she could writhe,
before gasping out, "Diez y ocho. Gracias, Senor Jack. Uno mas, por favor?"
"Wrong, again, estupida. That was me. That makes eight penalties." Ernie
was stroking his throbbing cock even harder now. Give her one last good one,
Jack, before I fuck this Mexican slut. I can't wait no more."
Jack didn't disappoint him. He buried the cane deep into the back of
Teresa's right thigh, drawing yet another anguished moan from the girl on the
bed, and then tossed the cane to his partner. He gave Ernie a conspiratorial
wink and said, "I'll leave you two to celebrate her birthday. How about that,
mija," Jack jeered as he gave Teresa's sweat-sheened bottom a hard smack with
his big bare hand, before feeling between her legs. "I ain't worked up sech an
appetite since I strung Honey Wilson up in her daddy's barn, Ern! I'm gonna
rustle me up somethin' to eat and scrounge me some more of that tequila." Black
Jack Slocum's lizard-like eyes slid over Teresa's nude body once again. "Have
fun, Ernesto!"
"You go ahead, Jackson. Me and our Mexican cutie's gonna have us a fine
time while yer gone. Ain't we, mija?" Ernie growled.
Teresa was glad to see Jack turn and head for the door, but her relief was
short-lived. She felt the mattress beneath her buckle under the added weight of
pure evil, as Ernie Gibbs slowly clambered up onto the back of the bed.?
