Chapter XVII Breasts in Bondage
Ernie, who had been leaning against the kitchen table for a minute or two
staring blankly into space enjoying his erotic daydream, snapped himself back to
alertness. He chided himself for drifting off into a fantasy, no matter how
pleasurable, when the real thing -- the voluptuous Teresa Martinez -- was
waiting in the next room, her man-teasing lust-globes by now no doubt protruding
as boldly from a Jack Slocum breast bondage as Honey Wilson's had from hers.
Impatiently he located the articles he had come for and began to head back to
the bar area of the cantina, more intent than ever on making the thieving Latina
reveal where she had stashed the money she and her brothers had stolen from him.
Meanwhile Jack, true to his reputation, had wasted no time. Despite
Teresa's pleas for mercy, he had taken the same long length of thin, white cord
they had used on Teresa earlier, and set to work. But, just as he had had
trouble tying Honey's slippery tits, at first, because they had been spattered
with hot grease earlier that same night, Teresa's moist breasts were still
glistening wetly as a result of her dousings in the tub and the cord refused to
'bite' properly. Black Jack Slocum had used a few handfuls of coarse West Texas
sand to get rid of the slickness on Honey's boobs, and get 'em ready for ropin',
but there was no sand in the cantina.
But then Jack had an inspiration; diving into Ernie's knapsack he pulled
out the fifteen-foot length of thick rope that Ernie had presented as an option.
It was the heavy type of rope that boatmen used to moor riverboats to a dock --
an inch or more in diameter, and irritatingly coarse. Jack hacked off a
two-foot chunk of the thick rope, while he eye-balled Teresa's slippery breasts.
Her proud, mahogany-tipped nipples stabbed the air defiantly.
"OK, Teresita," Jack grinned sadistically as he stepped behind her and
reached around to give her a good look at the length of rope. "This'll get them
titties nice and dry!" he growled, and then he took the rope in both hands and
slid it into the crease formed by the undercurve of her breasts. Then, lifting
first one arm and then the other, and using the same sort of sawing motion one
might use with a bath towel, Jack scraped the prickly rope back and forth
against the tender undersides of Teresa's love-mounds.
Wincing, Teresa pulled away from the cruel embrace of the coarse rope.
'What's the matter, sweetie -- my little bath towel here ain't feminine enough
for you? Well, I'm gonna dry your tits off, Teresa, so I can rope 'em up nice
and purty for my pard. It's up to you, darlin'. We can wipe 'em dry with
this," and Jack held up the coarse rope. "Or I can dry 'em off with this."
Slocum reached into his shirt pocket, and pulled out a match stick.
Teresa, her hands bound tightly behind her, could do little but back away from
him, shaking her head fearfully, until a pair of barstools in her path prevented
her from retreating any more. Jack followed her, a sinister grin on his face.
When he was within arm's length, he swept the match across a rough wooden table
top, and watched as the tip of the Lucifer burst into flame. He held the match
up in front of Teresa's face to let her see its hungry little tongue, and then
he casually lowered his hand until the match was positioned about two inches
below Teresa's ardent left nipple, its tiny triangle of flame licking upward
hungrily, eager to catch the perky brown bud in its fiery embrace.
Teresa shook her head wildly, "No ... please ... not el fuego...."
"You gonna be a good girl, then, and hold still while I dry you off?"
Teresa looked down at her nipple, which seemed to surge saucily upward with
a life of its own, in its desire to escape the flaming match. Then she looked
up to see Black Jack Slocum smiling sardonically down at her. " Si ... si ... I
... I will ... hold still. Por favor ... please ...do not burn me."
"Glad you're seein' things my way now, mija" Jack smirked as he blew out
the match. "But jes' so's you don't forget .... " Jack's long arm reached out
and touched the crinkly roseate of Teresa's left breast with the smoking
match-tip.
"Oh, Goddddddddd.!!!" Teresa moaned, as she tried to twist away,
overturning one of the barstools, but Jack nimbly spoiled her attempts to
escape, grabbing a handful of her ebony hair and holding the spent Lucifer to
the underside of her nipple until its once-fiery fury had cooled.
"No," Teresa panted. "No mas ... please."
"Well, you gonna hold still for the rope or ain'tcha?"
"Si ... si I will. But please ... no more matches"
"Well you best hold still, Jack growled, "cuz next time I ain't putting the
match out first!' The tall gunslinger reached for the heavy rope again, and
spun the dark-skinned beauty around, smashing her naked thighs into the bar
stool. Then, holding an end of the rope in each hand, he positioned the rope
against her ripe melons an eyelash below her dark breast-tips, and began to saw
the rope back and forth across Teresa's tender breast-flesh.
Teresa groaned as the painful friction of the rope seemed to flay the skin
from her breasts. Her body screamed at her to try to elude the bristling hemp,
but her mind feared the flame of Jack's matches even more than the abrading
rope.
And so she stood there and endured the abuse as Black Jack dried her tawny
mounds by deftly working the rough fibers of the hawser across every inch of her
tender breast-flesh.
When Slocum was satisfied that Teresa's dark-nippled lust-globes were
sufficiently dry for the bondage ropes to bite properly, Jack tossed the thick
rope aside. He retrieved the thin rope and began coiling the pale, white
quarter-inch cord around Teresa's delectable breasts. Jack's craftsman-like
hands moved back and forth between her mocha-hued melons, encasing them tighter
and tighter in a painful hempen cocoon. He worked quickly, but not so quickly
that he did not take the time to pause at each encirclement of a succulent
breast to jerk every last millimeter of slack from her breast bindings. Each
time Jack yanked at the ends of the ropes, tightening the stranglehold on her
love-globes, Teresa moaned in agony.
Jack looked up for a moment as Ernie re-entered the bar, but then El Raton
got a sudden glint in his eye, reversed direction and returned to the kitchen.
Jack could hear the unmistakable sound of the crackling logs in the dwindling
kitchen fire being prodded back into life. "What the fuck is the crazy little
bastard up to now?" wondered Jack. "We ain't got no time to cook no fucking
breakfast!"
Jack finished tying Teresa's other breast, pulling the ends so tightly that
Teresa, for her part, could only stare at her painfully swollen lust-mounds in
suffering and chagrin. The thin cord bit fiercely into the base of each of her
pleasure-globes and Slocum had tied a Gordian knot at the precise epicenter of
the figure eight, a knot which seemed to draw the cords all the tighter around
her tender flesh. Who would have believed that there were men cruel enough and
ingenious enough to think of such a hellish way to mistreat a woman? And who
would have believed that there were men would find the molding of her
beautifully-shaped breasts into bulging balls of tit-flesh so captivating?
Just then Ernie returned from the kitchen, with one hand concealed behind
his back. His eyes were ablaze with ... what? ... lust? ... fury? ... madness?
The grotesque little man took a long look at Jack's handiwork, licking his
thin lips, enthralled by the way the tough cord gripped the bases of Teresa's
cane-marked breasts, and delighted by the way the ropes thrust her
stiff-nippled spheres of breast-flesh forward for his enjoyment.
"Ooooh, yeah, sweetheart," Ernie enthused. "Those babies were definitely
fit to be tied." Ernie slapped his thigh, tickled by his own joke. "Turn around
for me, mija. Nice and slow. So I can get a good luck at them juicy tits!"
Blushing furiously, but knowing that resistance was worse than foolish,
Teresa did a slow, sensuous pirouette while Ernie squinted appreciatively at the
way the rope and the knots bit into her mouthwatering melons, hoping to learn
the secret of Slocum's wizardry.
"Geesus, Jackson, if you ain't got them beauties lookin' mighty fine, I'm
Jesse Fucking James! Hot Damn!! I swear to God these must be the sweetest pair
'a chi-chis this side of the Rio Grande."
Ernie slid behind Teresa and cupped her bulging man-pleasers in his gnarled
fingers. "Hell, I always said you was the best man with a rope I ever seen,
Black Jack. Mmmmm-mm," he crooned as he thumbed the dark crests of Teresa's
swollen breasts and pressed his dungaree-covered erection against her buttock
cleft. "Damn it to hell," Ernie babbled as his hands roamed freely over
Teresa's nude breasts, "if her tits don't look like they're fixing to pop! Watch
out our Mexican cutie don't hit you in the eye with one of them nips when they
do, Jackson!" he chuckled. "Damn! They're purty as a picture, ain't they?"
Ernie spun Teresa and slapped a bulging breast lightly with his left hand.
"Firm as a side of beef, but tender as a fillie meen-yon. Nice work, Big Jack!"
But then the smile of delight vanished and an evil leer stole across the
Weasel's disfigured face. "But you'd better wise up and tell me where my loot
is, mija, less'n you want me and Jack to work on these chi-chi's some more!" he
rasped as he smacked her breast again, this time hard enough to draw an audible
gasp of pain from the dark-eyed beauty.
Ernie wiped a stream of spittle from the corner of his mouth as he admired
Teresa's breast bondage. By some arcane architectural artistry Jack had woven
his cocoon of rope underneath her splendid breasts so skillfully that the cord
seemed to lift them up for his delectation. They looked just perfect for what
he had in mind.
"Five more minutes, Big Fella. Five more minutes, and we'll be outa here.
With my damn money!"
Jack frowned. "You're gonna have'ta make do with four minutes, Ernesto.
The first minute's mine."
