Chapter VII The Weasel with the Whip
"The old eye's feelin' a little better now, Jack -- Give me a shot at this
slut!"
Jack Slocum stepped back. On the best day of his ugly life Ernie had never
looked too good. But between his horribly swollen face and the malevolent sneer
on his lip, right now he looked like the personification of evil.
Ernie squinted intently at the woman who was responsible for his agonizing
headaches. She was rather tall, an inch or two taller taller than his 5' 5";
Ernie didn't like tall bitches -- never had. He didn't like the way they looked
down on him. And nothing pleased him more than to cut a tall girl down to size,
to reduce her to a kneeling, groveling slut who would promise him anything if
only he'd stop the pain.
"Tell you what, Teresita. I'm gonna leave the gag out, for a while, OK?"
Teresa nodded gratefully. She hated the choking panty-gag, not least
because it caused her to slobber like a child. She had felt utterly humiliated
when Jack had ogled her drool-covered breasts with such obscene and obvious
pleasure.
Ernie interrupted her train of thought by snarling, "But you start makin' a
lot of noise, and the gag goes back in."
Ernie began by flicking the four strands of the whip against Teresa's right
thigh. The pain of the whip was different from the pain of the belt -- the belt
left a generalized pain over a wide patch of flesh; the slender-thonged whip
produced a more intense pain, albeit one concentrated in smaller areas.
Ernie backhanded her briskly across the other thigh, enjoying her spasmodic
jerks of pain, taking satisfaction from the sensations of suffering that welled
up in Teresa's beautiful dark eyes. Then, his own hideous face distorted with
pain, he drew the whip further back and swept its fiery tails across the outside
of one lovely thigh, and then he backhanded her across the other.
"Aaaaaah!" Teresa gasped in pain.
"Yer gonna wish you'd sucker-punched some other guy, you fucking bitch!
Spread your feet further apart, dammit - and stand tall on those toes! How
many times do we have to tell you!" When Teresa's golden-brown body was fully
extended, and her sleek quadriceps muscles were strained to an eye-catching
tautness, the ugly little man slashed at her beautiful legs again -- Left !
Right! -- the whip cracked loudly in the stillness of the Mexican night, each
report drawing a muted moan of suffering from the striking young beauty.
A hideous half-grin crossed the good side of Ernie's face as he swept the
leather thongs back and forth Teresa's soft thigh-flesh two-four-six more times
in lightning-like succession. As each crisp blow landed, Teresa gasped softly
in pain, only just managing to keep her arms extended high over her head.
Unlike his taller, more deliberate partner, Ernie the Weasel paused between
lashes only long enough to savor her soft cries of suffering and to examine
briefly the freshest streak in what had become a garish pattern of lurid
lash-marks.
"No mas," Teresa gasped faintly. Please..."
Ernie, paused, sweating profusely. He noticed, not for the first time,
that Teresa, in between grimaces of pain, was looking yearningly toward the
ancient grandfather clock that stood against the far wall. "Hey, Jack. Our
little Mexican cutie here keeps lookin' at the clock - like maybe she's
expectin' someone."
At these words, Teresa, not thinking, spat at the ugly little man in front
of her, spraying saliva over his face. "Cobardes! My brothers weel keel you
both, Yankee dogs! You will see!"
In less than two heartbeats Teresa felt the vicious tongues of Ernie's whip
bite into each of her swollen breasts. "Is that so?" Ernie smirked, before
snapping the tails of the whip across the gentle curve of her mons. "Them
greaser hermanos 'a yers ain't gonna keel nobody!" he snorted as he slashed at
each of Teresa's glorious coppery tits again, aiming for, and finding, her dark,
puffy nipples. "So don't think yer goin' home from the dance, just yet, mija!"
"Aiiiiaa! Aaaghhhh!!" Teresa moaned as the whip scalded her succulent
breasts. Even Ernie's dire warning to be still could not stifle her cries of
pain.
Ernie was interrupted briefly by another long, rolling thunderburst
which began far off in the west and then seemed to roll toward them until it
seemed to settle above the dusty crossroads of Piedras Negras, where it exploded
with a deafening rumble.
"Hoooo-eeeey," that was a good one!" Ernie mumbled before calmly
removing a dingy, wadded-up red neckerchief from a pocket. "See this, Teresa?
Look familiar?"
When the Weasel had finished unrolling the bandanna unrolled it, Teresa got
a good look at the big ring Ernie had concealed within it. Pepe's ring. Her
brother's cheap, showy ring that he was so fond of. That he would never have
parted with willingly.
Ernie calmly used the dirty kerchief to wipe the spit from his face.
"So you think your brothers are gonna 'keel' us, do you?" he repeated
sarcastically, as he stuffed the foul piece of cloth roughly into her mouth.
"Now why would they want to "keel" us? We're just a couple of friendly
cowpokes. Ain't we, Jack?"
"That's right, Ern," his sinister partner answered, as he stepped
closer, fondling his doubled-up belt menacingly. "Hold 'em high, honey!" he
barked at Teresa, and then he drilled the lower curves of Teresa's cafe-au-lait
breasts with a venomous uppercut.
"Ngggmmpfphhhh!!" Teresa whimpered pathetically into her gag
Jack's cock pressed angrily against his denims, as hard as the monoliths in
Monument Valley. But he was in no hurry. He enjoyed his own peculiar style of
foreplay as much as the sex act itself. He'd given Honey Wilson a thorough
working-over before raping her among the haybales in her daddy's barn. And when
he'd finally taken her, while Ernie used a burning cigarillo on her quivering
peaches-and-cream breasts, it had been with a soul-shattering climax. He was
fixin' to give Teresa Martinez the full treatment, just like he'd done Honey
Wilson.
"That's right, Ern," Jack agreed with a dark scowl. "We're jus a coupla
good ol' boys from east Texas. Wouldn't hurt a fly, would we?"
"Not us," smirked the little man with the evil grin as he took careful
aim and swung the biting strips of rawhide viciously into Teresa's rounded
breasts.
"Nnnggggghmppffhh ..." Teresa's agony was stifled by the neckerchief.
"You shouldn't 'a spit on me, mija. No broad spits on Ernie Gibbs,
especially no Mexican or half-breed or whatever the hell you are!" Ernie eased
Pepe's big-stoned ring onto the ring finger of his right hand.
The little man with the hideously distorted face brandished the ring
just a few inches from her eyes. "I'm sure Pepe would have wanted you to have
this, Teresa," Ernie smiled evilly. "Hold her for me, Jack, so that I can give
it to her nice and proper-like."
There was stark terror in Teresa's dark brown eyes now, as her hopes
sank with the realization that her brothers would not be coming. She tried to
dart away through the doorway that led into the kitchen, but the man in black
was too quick and too strong. He caught up to her and slammed her painfully
against a flimsy table, overturning small baskets of garlic and chilis, and
spilling their contents. He quickly seized a wrist and twisted it behind her
in a painful hammerlock, while he held the other firmly at her side.
Ernie approached them, a demonic look in his one good eye. "Did you
really think you was gonna spit on me and get away with it?" he snarled.
Jack spun Teresa around so that her shapely buttocks were pressed
against the edge of the table. Ernie clenched his right fist, turning the ring
into a sharp, protruding weapon, and with his other hand grabbed a handful of
the Latina's lustrous black hair for leverage. "We're gonna have to have us a
little ring ceremony, Jack" Ernie grunted, as he lifted his fist chest-high,
letting the light from a kerosene lamp play for a moment on the glittering,
uneven crystals of the faux gemstone. Then, his rheumy eyes grim, Ernie the
Weasel pressed the rough imitation stone against the firm but yielding flesh of
Teresa's perfect left breast. And then he forced it inward, grinding the
ring-stone deep into the tender tissue of her young breast.
"UNNGGGGGHHHH!!" Teresa screamed through the neckerchief, dislodging
it. The pain was excruciating. Teresa struggled desperately to escape from
Slocum's grip, but Jack's hands were bands of steel on her arms. The veins in
Ernie's forearms stood out as he worked the terrible ring deeper into Teresa's
tender tit-flesh. "That's it, Ern," the big man growled as he held her fast.
"That'll teach her to spit on a Texan!
His clenched yellow teeth witness to the intensity of his wrath, Ernie
pulled the ring away after a few seconds, pleased with the deep indentation it
had left in her breast. And then the malicious little man pressed the sharp
stone up against the soft inner curve of Teresa's naked right breast. "Ready,
honey? We wouldn't want those fine titties not to match, now, would we?" Ernie
giggled. The little man's good eye was bright with sadistic glee as he twisted
his fist remorselessly, pressing the sharp relief of the stone violently into
the coppery flesh of Teresa's other love-gourd.
"Aiiigghhh!" Try though she might, Teresa was unable to suppress an
agonized scream of pain. "Merced! Por favor, merced," she whimpered piteously.
But Ernie wasn't listening -- he continued to drive his ring-fist viciously into
her breast.
After a few more seconds, Ernie pulled his hand back to study the nasty
mark the ring had left. "There's a little remembrance from yer asshole brother,
bitch! Don't worry; we didn't kill those two ugly bastards; we just put 'em out
of commission for a while. So don't count on them comin' to 'keel' us anytime
soon."
Ernie turned, grinning, to his partner, "Enjoyin' our little Halloween
party, Jack?"
"Yeah, Ern. Geesus, who'd 'a ever thought we'd find a looker like
this'n out here in the middle of Nowherelajara, May-hee-co. Baby, we're gonna
have some fun with you tonight!"
"Know what you mean, pard. But let's tie her up some; I don't want her
scratchin' my other eye out with those pretty fingernails of hers. Bring her
back out in the bar. I got so much rope in that bag we could tie her to the
fuckin' Alamo if we wanted to," Ernie chuckled.
"Good deal!" replied the man in black. While Ernie went to the bag, and
grabbed a couple of lengths of light-weight white rope, Jack muscled their naked
prisoner face down over one of the tables in the bar. "Hold her down, Ern, 'til
I can rope this little filly right."
Jack Slocum had spent a couple of years in rodeo and he was a master of
ropework. In a few minutes, Teresa's arms were bound painfully high behind her
back, her right hand touching her left elbow, and vice versa. Then Jack spun
her around so that she faced them. Jack, tit-man that he was, was pleased by
the way that positure forced her juicy caramel-colored melons into even greater
prominence. The stripes from Black Betsy and the angry marks left by Pepe's ring
only enhanced the appeal of the Latina's ripe-nippled globes as far as Black
Jack Slocum was concerned.
Slocum took a second length of rope and looped it around Teresa's chest,
just above her boobs, pulled it tight across her back, and then wrapped it back
around her chest just under her breasts, before anchoring the ends of the rope
to her pinioned forearms.
"Nice work, Jack!" Ernie said admiringly. The white rope above and below
Teresa's brown-tipped jugs framed them most attractively. Then Jack took
another length of hemp, this one coarser and heavier, and slipped it around
Teresa's slim waist. "Suck your stomach in, bitch!" he snarled. And after
Teresa took a breath that reduced the already slender circumference of her waist
by an inch or so, Jack swiftly cinched the stratchy rope so tightly about her
middle that she felt as if she'd never take a full breath again.
"Nice, Jack. She's one pretty picture now, ain't she?"
And so she was. Jack's constricting ropes emphasized and accentuated
every lovely curve of Teresa's body.
"Hey! I almost forgot. I brought our party-girl some flowers, Jack, as
a token of our affection. And a necklace. Let me get it."
Ernie rummaged through his big bag for a second. "Ah! Found it." And
then the evil little man pulled out a peculiar necklace. The chain of the
"necklace" was a strand of rawhide; but hanging from the rawhide were "the
flowers" -- two small cylindrical cacti, each of which was four or five inches
long and an inch or more in diameter, and bristling with razor sharp spines.
Ernie had hammered a nail hole through the end of each cactus, and pulled the
rawhide through the hole. Each cactus sported a single brilliant pink blossom.
"Now, ain't that pretty, Teresa? Here let me put it on you." And Ernie
looped the necklace around her pretty neck, tying it behind her. The two spiny
cacti nestled in the alluring valley between her naked breasts. As long as she
remained perfectly still, the dozens of spines were only a mild irritant, but
Teresa could see that the least movement would allow the sharp little spines to
prick her chest and the inner curves of her thrusting globes.
