Chapter 5 Stalked and Whipped
Jack glanced around, taking in the scene in the barn, and took a long pull
from a bottle of liquor that he had apparently looted from the Wilson house. He
took a look at Honey's cum-splashed face - he'd only been gone a few minutes,
and Ernie the Weasel had shot his wad already. A grin creased his dark
features. "Christ, Ern', it aint' a race!"
Ernie wiped his fast-shriveling dick off on Honey's left cheek, pulled up
his filthy trousers and climbed down from his perch atop the hay bales. Seeing
Slocum's mocking expression the shifty-eyed little weasel shifted shamefacedly
from one foot to the other, his eyes down, pretending to build a tiny pile out
of stray wisps of straw with his left foot. "I told the little tease to go slow,
Jack, but blondie latched on to my cock like a weevil on a Mexican cotton boll.
Didn't you, Honey?"
When Honey gave the ferret-faced cowpoke a look of utter contempt, Ernie's
hands shot out toward her proud, sweat-soaked breasts with lightning rapidity.
He seized her moist pink nipple-buds between his leather-clad thumbs and
forefingers and squeezed them until he brought tears to Honey's beautiful blue
eyes. 'Uncle Ernie's talkin' to you, girl. I said, 'Didn't you, Honey'?"
"Aaah!... Stop ... it hurts....Aaarrghh! .....Y-yes," Honey moaned in
self-abasement. To confess, even under coercion, to enjoying the disgusting sex
act that she had performed on Ernie was the most humiliating thing she had ever
had to do.
"Yeah, Jack," Ernie grunted, as he gave Honey's tender lust-nuggets a final
vicious twist, "Blondie here could suck the nails outa yer boots, pardner."
Jack studied the look of abject misery on Honey Wilson's beautiful face.
"Well, she'd better like fuckin' as much as she likes suckin'! I'm 'specting you
to show me a real good time, Honey."
Then turning to his sidekick, the rangy gunslinger proffered the bottle he
had brought into the Wilson barn. "Here, Ern, have a slug 'a this -- Honey's
daddy's got some fine Kentucky bourbon in there! Not like that white lightnin'
mule-piss yer always drinkin' ."
Ernie the Weasel accepted the bottle, noticing that the seal was freshly
broken, and that the bottle was already nearly half empty. Jack hadn't wasted
any time downing enough liquor to knock most men on their ass. Ernie removed
his thick chaw of tobacco and tilted the bottle to his own lips, enjoying the
slow burn of the bourbon in his throat. Ernie idly wondered whether Jack still
got as mean after drinkin' as he had in the old days. It wouldn't be too long
before he found out.
The ferret-faced little man took another pull at the rich sweet corn
whiskey and watched with heightened interest as Jack stepped closer to the
semi-nude blonde. Honey's breasts were still encrimsoned from their stint as
sparring targets for Ernie's punches, but they still stood firm and high and
proud on her chest. Slocum lifted the rancher's daughter's left breast slightly
with one hand while he lowered his mouth to her inflamed globe, enjoying the
succulent taste of young breastflesh marinating in its salty sweat-sauce.
Black Jack mouthed each of Honey's superb lust-mounds for a minute or two
before proceeding to undo the rope that stretched Honey's arms up to the
overhead rafter. While he fiddled with the rope, Honey also noticed that the
bottle Jack had passed to his ornery little sidekick was half empty. Not only
that, but the alcohol seemed to have affected Jack a little already; Honey
noticed that he fumbled a little bit with it. Which was hardly surprising
really -- almost half a fifth of liquor in fifteen minutes on a scorching hot
day was enough to affect any man, much less a man who probably hadn't done any
drinking in four years.
Just as Black Jack undid the rope from the rafter overhead the explosive
sound of a gunshot went off behind him, startling him and causing him to release
the rope altogether.
"Geesus! What in the hell?!!?" Jack bellowed as he turned in the direction
the gunshot had come from. Ernie was standing near the doorway, the bottle of
bourbon in one hand, a smoking six-gun in the other and a sheepish smile on his
face.
"Oh, sorry, Jackson. I saw a rat over there by the wall. I think I
plugged the ugly little son-of-a-bitch, too."
"Are you plumb loco, Ernie? All's we need is for them people down the road
to hear a gunshot and come up here to see what's goin' on." The Dunbar ranch,
Honey knew, was the nearest habitation. The Dunbar house itself was about three
miles back down the road, but the property line was less than a mile away.
"Ah, lighten up, Jack. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be poundin' rocks
in Amarillo."
"Maybe so, Ern, but I ain't too anxious to go back there, so cut out the
goddam shootin' OK? You ain't got the sense of a jackrabbit." Jack fumed.
Ernie glared back at him.
Honey, meanwhile was thankful that Jack had taken the rope down from the
rafter. For she had finally been able to bring her hands, though still tied in
front of her with the long rope, down to their normal position, giving her
aching arms and shoulders a break after her long suspension. Then when Jack had
been startled, he had dropped the rope altogether and she had picked up the
loose end so he couldn't grab it. While Jack was chewing Ernie out she began to
struggle with the knot.
After she managed to undo the knot and slip the rope off of her slender
wrists, Honey considered the import of what Jack had said. It struck her that
it was very unlikely, after his remarks, that the two desperadoes would risk
using their firearms. Honey swabbed at the nauseating trails of Ernie's semen
on her cheeks and lips and then wiped her hands on the lacy fringe on her white
panties while she calculated her chances. If she could just make it past Jack
somehow and out the barn door and over to the bunkhouse... Red, the bunkhouse
boss, kept a loaded Winchester next to his bed, and when the hands had saddled
up she had noticed that he hadn't taken it with him.
Still shaking his head in disgust at his side-kick's ill-advised stunt,
Jack turned back toward Honey, and was a little surprised to see that she had
slipped out of the rope. But a wide, lecherous grin crossed the swarthy
outlaw's stubble-bearded face. Now he was gonna have to round up this pretty
blonde filly again -- but Jack always got a kick out of a little indoor rodeo.
Specially when the dogie to be roped was a frisky long-legged blonde with
lip-smackingly beautiful udders.
The voluptuous blonde backed slowly away from the rangy gunslinger, her
knees slightly bent in an alert defensive posture, conscious of how her
throbbing full-nippled breasts swayed ever so slightly with her every movement.
Her blue eyes were bright with both intelligence and fear, as they darted around
the barn sizing up her situation.
There were bales of hay strewn randomly around the Wilson barn, in stacks
of various heights, each of which offered the possibility of providing an
obstacle to his pursuit. She forced herself not to keep glancing over Jack's
shoulder at the silver-bladed hatchet hanging on the wall behind Jack not far
from the door. Earlier, when Jack had been spanking her close-set breasts, she
had also noticed a pitchfork leaning against a stack of hay bales in a shadowy
corner of the barn off to her left. If she could only manage to lay her hands
on one of those weapons, she just might have a chance...
Jack moved closer, a look of steely-eyed determination on his face, and
Honey took another step backward.
"What're you runnin' away for, Honeychile? Big Jack's fixin' to show you a
good time. Ain't you, Jack?" Ernie the Weasel giggled, as he took another long
slug from the bottle. He had plopped himself down comfortably on a couple of
haybales, to watch the action. He had seen Jack stalk women before. And if he
knew Jack, the big stud was gonna make Honey Wilson regret making him go
through the trouble of chasing her down on such a God-awful hot day.
"That's right, Honey," Jack drawled. "I'm fixin' to give you some lovin'
like you ain't never got before. If you just relax you just might enjoy it.
Lots 'a women kinda like a little Texas rough stuff, don't they, Ern?"
"Maybe so, big fella. But I reckon there ain't too damn many who like it
as rough as Honey's gonna get it!" Ernie chuckled gleefully.
Honey felt the lump of fear in her throat thicken a bit more and she
retreated a little, shamefully conscious of her near nudity, and how her
tormentors were looking at her as if they were starving bloodhounds and she was
a thick juicy Kansas City porterhouse. Honey's beautiful blue eyes swept the
barn nervously looking for somewhere to run, somewhere to hide, as the
foreboding figure of the black-clad outlaw edged a little closer.
"Looks like Honey wants to play a little hide and go seek," Jack grinned
as Honey continued to back away. "That's OK, girl, me and Ernie like to play
games. Don't we, Ern?" While Jack inched closer, always staying between Honey
and the barn door, he caught a glimpse of what looked to be an unfinished
stirrup-strap -- a two-foot long strip of tough mud-colored rawhide,
half-covered by the loose strands of hay that littered the barn floor.
Slocum made a quick feint in Honey's direction, causing her to move to her
left a step or two, giving him time to swoop down like a vulture and retrieve
the inch-wide strap.
"Well, blondie, are you gonna lay your sweet ass down on them haybales over
there?" Jack pointed toward where Ernie was relaxing on a pair of bales that had
been positioned end-to-end; not a bed exactly, but Jack never had much use for
screwing a woman nice and proper on sheets and pillowcases anyway. He liked to
take his pleasures down and dirty. "Or am I gonna have to come and getcha?"
And he slammed the leather strap with a resounding THWACCKKK!!! against one of
the bales of hay that were scattered around the barn, letting Honey hear the
speed with which the leather cut through the air, and the dreadful pop it made
when it snapped into the sweet-smelling hay. And letting her imagine how that
strip of rawhide was going to feel when it bit into her tempting girl-flesh.
Honey, shivering but watchful, slithered cautiously to her right, trying
always to keep at least one stack of bales between herself and her indefatigable
pursuer. Now and then she pushed a bale off of a two-or-three high stack, to put
another obstacle between them.
Ernie leaned forward and upended the liquor bottle again, feeling another
rush of warmth through his innards, as he watched the erotic game of cat and
mouse unfold. Honey moved like a tawny wildcat, darting nimbly through the maze
of fallen hay bales cleverly, her tawny thighs flashing, as Jack sought to
corner her. "Girl, you shoulda laid down and taken your fuckin' when you had
the chance," Ernie chirped gleefully. " I think you got Big Jack riled now. And
when he's riled, he's as ornery as a wolverine with prickly heat!"
And indeed Black Jack's swarthy features were contorted into a visage of
unmistakable menace, as if Honey's frustrating attempts at evasion had refreshed
his memory of his fifteen hundred nights in prison. The fifteen hundred nights
that he had curled up on a dirt floor with repulsive long-tailed rats and
scurrying cockroaches for company instead of a warm-bodied woman.
But today there was a warm-bodied woman, just out of arms reach, a
golden-haired, full-breasted, long-legged blonde that he blamed for every last
one of those vermin-ridden nights.
Honey's gaze was fixed on Jack's face as he edged closer. His unblinking
beady black eyes were as cold and lifeless as those of a rattlesnake. For a man
his size, Jack was as quick as a rattlesnake, too, feinting first this way and
then that as he pursued the nearly nude blonde through the maze of overturned
bales.
Their eyes remained locked as Jack and Honey danced their desperate pas de
deux among the straw-colored bales. Until Jack got close enough to make his
move. He bluffed a quick move to his right as if he were going to come
charging around the right side of a tall stack of baled alfalfa, but then
quickly stepped back to his left just in time to intercept Honey when she fell
for his fake. He lashed out viciously with the strap, catching her high across
the fronts of her bare thighs with an unerring backhand.
"Aaaahhhh!" Honey yelped, and she tried to turn away and retreat behind the
bales again but the rattlesnake was quicker than the bunny. Black Jack swung
the leather again and cracked her sharply across the tanned flesh of her back,
leaving a livid red mark.
"Aaiiiarhh!! Honey cried out in pain again, and turned back to face the
black-eyed villain as she tried to retreat. But when Jack charged quickly
forward again she backed into a bale of hay and tripped and fell backward and
then the tall sinister stalking-wolf was standing directly above her brandishing
the thick leather strap.
Grinning demonically, Jack lashed downward viciously, catching the side of
Honey's blushing left breast with the stinging tip of the strap just before her
hand could deflect the blow. Lifting her hands up to protect her treasures,
though, opened her legs up to Jack's attack again and he slashed at her supple
thighs, branding them again and again as she tried to scuttle backwards on her
heels.
"Aaaghh!! ... " THWACKKK!!
"N-no.... Aaaiieeeahh!!! No.... please..." THWACKKK!!!
"You can run, baby, but you can't hide," Jack leered, his teeth bared in a
wolfish grin. When Honey rolled over on to her hands and knees, he slashed at
her ripe rounded buttocks ripping a long gash in her panties as she tried to
scramble away. He followed that stroke up with a blow that landed diagonally
across her back, leaving a livid mark.
"Aaaaaaahh!!" Honey moaned again.
"Way to go, Black Jack! Lay that leather on her!" Ernie cheered excitedly.
The next best thing to flogging the firm flesh of a half-naked beauty was
watching Black Jack Slocum do it. Cause nobody did it better.
While Jack recoiled the strap after the last blow, Honey struggled
painfully back to her feet, her luscious thighs burning from the blazing fury of
the stirrup strap. But by now Honey's desperate attempts at flight were
governed more by an animalistic fear of the lash than by any particular plan,
and Jack capitalized on her pain-induced confusion.
The lanky outlaw pursued her with the remorselessness of an avenging fate,
his jaw set with relentless determination. He cursed the fleeing beauty as
Honey staggered frantically from hay bale to hay bale. The delicious blonde
moved quickly but Black Jack Slocum's reach was long and his aim was true. He
aimed mostly for her sleek golden thighs, dewy with perspiration, the part of
her body most difficult to protect with her hands. In and out of the maze of
oblong bundles of alfalfa, he chased her, lashing at her legs and the ripe
half-moons of her panty-clad buttocks which peeked through two rents in her
white undergarment.
Honey kept moving though, never quite escaping the bite of the stinging
leather, but never really letting Black Jack get his feet planted firmly enough
to strike her with his full strength. But then, as she dodged around yet
another stack of haybales, she realized that she had made a grievous error. She
had stumbled into a corner of the barn -- a right-angled cul-de-sac. And the
grim menacing figure of Black Jack Slocum was no more than six feet away from
her, whip-strap in hand, and there were no more haybales to dodge behind.
"Where you gonna run to, now, Honey," Jack gloated, his dark eyes gleaming
with sadistic desire, as he took a step closer. His stallion cock was a
petrified log of flesh in his black dungarees; somehow it seemed to know that
the plunder of this ripe-breasted young blonde was imminent, that it would soon
be forcing its way brutally between the honey-gold thighs of this West Texan
goddess. 'Easy does it, Big Fella,' he silently advised his throbbing organ, as
his reptilian eyes drank in Honey's heaving, ripe-nippled breasts, her flat
tanned belly, and the sleek curves of her splendid thighs. 'I ain't quite done
workin' her over yet.'
"Please..." Honey begged. She was drenched in sweat from her exertions,
and sported nearly a dozen dark striations on the fronts of her supple thighs
alone.
"Please what, you teasing slut? You think 'please' got me anywhere with
them bastard guards at Amarillo? I got your 'please' right here, baby."
And Jack tightened his grip on the strap and after faking a high blow, let
Honey have it right across the tops of her tanned thighs yet again. Then when
her hands reflexively went down to guard against another leg-warmer, Jack saw
his opening and lashed out at Honey's pink-crested tit-melons.
The flesh-burning strap beat her defending hands by a split-second,
catching her squarely across both of her crinkled coral roseates a millimeter
below her distended love nuggets. "AAAGHHHH!!"
"Attaboy, Jackson! Whip those juicy tits!" Ernie chortled with delight.
"How's it feel, Honeychile, now that you're the one takin' the beatin?" Ernie
called out spitefully from his perch on the other side of the barn.
Honey Wilson had fresh tears in her blue eyes as she cupped her burning
mounds in her pretty hands, trying to protect and soothe them. But that gave
Jack the opening to go downstairs again, and he whipped the soft flesh of her
thigh-tops with another swift forehand before launching a vicious backhand that
found the front of Honey's frilly white panties.
"AAAIEAAAHHH!!" the pig-tailed blonde screamed and backed up again, but her
retreat was halted when she bumped into the back wall of the barn.
And then Jack was on her with the ferocity of a Rocky Mountain grizzly, his
big body pinning her to the wall. He deftly wrapped the leather strap around
her wrists, cinching them and then lifted them high over her head with his left
hand. Pressed against the worn wooden planks that comprised the side of the
barn, Honey felt jagged wooden splinters stab deep into the rounded flesh of
her buttocks as Jack forced his powerful body against hers.
While he held both of her hands in his left, Jack's hairy right hand
groped Honey's sweat-slick lust-melons, still blushingly red from his solid
slaps and Ernie's punishing punches. Although her hands were pinned helplessly
over her head, Honey resisted with spirit, twisting and turning, trying
desperately to avoid his mauling caresses. But her frantic squirming was of
little avail against Slocum's overpowering strength. In fact, her attempts to
avoid his grasp seemed only to inflame his ardor even more. He pressed his
long, angular body hard against her nakedness, and Honey felt the long thick
shape of his granite-hard organ through his thick trousers, even as she was
enveloped in the smell of bourbon from his hot breath.
Jack grabbed her left breast firmly in his big hand, and closed his
fingers so tightly around her succulent lust-globe that Honey cried out in pain.
"Ooooohhhhh....God...you're hurting me..." Honey moaned.
"Damn, she's got some knockers, don't she Ern? Honey, I lay awake nights
in that hellhole you sent me to thinkin' about what I was gonna do to you when
I caught up to yer sweet blonde ass. But never in my wildest dreams did I think
you was gonna grow you a bodacious set of titties like these."
Black Jack lowered his hungry mouth to Honey's succulent right breast and
attacked it with his lips, teeth and tongue while his right hand crawled freely
around Honey's other lust-mound like a huge hairy tarantula, as she whimpered
with revulsion, and struggled futilely to push her towering assailant off of
her.
"Yeah, baby," Jack growled as he pulled his lupine teeth away from the
inner curves of Honey's close-set pleasure-gourds, leaving the rosy melons slick
with his slobber. "A pair 'a big round tits like these deserves some real
special handling. Any red-blooded Texan who tells you different, is a goddam
liar! And Honey, I'm just the man to see that they get it!"
Jack's cold reptilian eyes ensnared Honey's in his frosty glance. "Yeah,
Honey, we're gonna have a good time together, you 'n me. A real good time."
Then Slocum released his vise-lip grip on her left breast and slid his paw into
Honey's snow-white panties. His hairy hand slid downward through her golden
bush, and then his long fingers probed insistently into her love nook, as she
squirmed at his obscene touch. He slid his middle finger inside her, as she
tensed in shock, and worked it back and forth and around for a moment. Geesus,
Ern, she's nice and tight, too. I gotta get me some of that!"
Then Jack pulled the strap free from her wrists and spun Honey around and
pushed her violently backward in the direction of the bales on which Ernie was
sitting. Honey landed on her ass again, and then Jack was towering over her
fallen figure swinging his ferocious strap, catching her first on her
golden-tanned thighs and then again just to the left of her deep-etched navel.
Honey scrambled awkwardly to her feet yet again, as she tried to weather the
hail of blows, as Jack drove her across the barn with lash after lash of the
heavy strap. Screaming, crying, Honey strove desperately to protect her
hyper-sensitive breasts, but the strap found her soft-fleshed flanks and her
golden thighs again and again.
Ernie, suddenly realizing that Jack was stampeding Honey in his direction,
bounced up off the platform of haybales just before Jack caught up to the
blue-eyed blonde and shoved her again so that she landed flat on her back atop
the end-to-end pair of bales on which Ernie had been lounging.
"Get that rope again, Ern," Jack growled as he whipped Honey's well-tanned
thigh-flesh again.
"Aiiiiiiiee!!" she screamed as she curled up on one side protectively, a
tactic which Jack countered by giving her a couple of solid shots across the
rounded cheeks of her sweet ass. "Get her hands," the big man barked to his
diminutive partner
Honey was trapped. Ernie was now standing on one side of her, leering down
at her nudity, while Jack stood on the other brandishing the dreadful leather
strap.
"Wait a minute, Jack. I got me an idea. Before we tie her hands up, how
about we let her play with herself some? I used to watch her go at it through
her window, and it was somethin' to see, let me tell you."
Jack shrugged his shoulders, and Ernie continued, "How about it Honey.
Let's see you play with them big tits, rub 'em up nice for us, just like I seen
you do when you was undressin' for bed."
Honey blushed with shame that this little cockroach of a man had observed
her in her most private moments. But it was true -- it was not at all uncommon
for her to spend long minutes standing in front of her mirror narcissistically
caressing her lovely body.
"You better do like Ernie said," Jack admonished her, as he slapped the
strap across her thigh-flesh sharply again.
"Aahhhh! ... All right...all right...just don't hit me any more...please.."
Jack's reptilian eyes quickly returned to rake Honey's mouthwatering mounds
with his intense unblinking stare. Honey's breasts were truly outstanding, in
every sense of the word. Even lying flat on her back they thrust proudly
upward, young and firm and as whip-worthy as any pair of lust-melons he'd ever
seen. And Jack figured he had probably put the leather to more breast-flesh
than any man between Texarkana and Tombstone.
"Yer wastin' time, girl," Jack growled, his fingers closing and unclosing
on the leather strap.
Honey slid her slender fingers up across her tanned midriff to cup the
tender breasts that Jack and Ernie had slapped, slugged and strapped.
Ernie's face was feverish with lust. "Work those tits, baby! Me and Jack
wanta see them nips stickin' out like a coupla pink bullets, just like I seen
'em before."
Shuddering with revulsion at Ernie the Weasel's licentious cravings, Honey
closed her blue eyes, and let her long slender fingers glide gently over the
tender flesh of her luscious breast-globes, as she desperately tried to pretend
that she was alone in her bedroom with moonlight streaming in, bathing her pale
body in its soft glow -- rather than lying flat on her back on a month-old
haybale, caressing herself for the pleasure of these perverted desperadoes.
Honey stroked and teased her sore breasts expertly, knowing just how they
loved to be touched, cupping them, squeezing them gently, pushing them slightly
together so that the inner curves of her breasts kissed each other lovingly, and
then pulling them back apart. All the while her well-manicured thumbnails
strummed her pleasure-nuggets, flicking them, tweaking them, teasing them. Her
eyes still closed, she raised a slender index finger to her lips, tongued it,
and then used it to moisten her thrusting nipples, as she continued to make love
to her delicious love mounds. The dampness seemed to make her lust-buds blossom
even further, as if they were spring flowers responding to a gentle rainfall.
"Didn't I tell ya, Jack? If she ain't the biggest tease in West Texas, I'm
Wyatt Earp. Hell, she even teases her own damn self. Kee-rist! Look at them
slut-nipples -- they're a half-inch long or my name ain't Ernie Fucking Gibbs!"
********
Jack and Ernie had taken to calling unusually distended nipples
'slut-nipples' years ago after an exciting session with a ripe-breasted young
Creole barmaid in Corpus Christi in the back room of a saloon one night after
closing. Cerise's French-African ancestry had provided her with the most
sensitive nipples Jack had ever seen. Her hot-blooded lust-nubbins had swelled
to more than half an inch in length after he'd nibbled and sucked on 'em roughly
for a spell. And they'd gotten even longer a little later after Jack got up off
the bed and unlocked the door to let his partner join him and his surprised
paramour on the bed ....
After gagging her to keep her from crying out for help now that she was
confronted by the leering unsavory twosome, Ernie had tied a pair of thin
rawhide bootlaces chokingly tight around Cerise's long mahogany-colored
love-tips while Jack wedged his Texas truncheon into her tight rectal canal.
Jack had forced Cerise onto her hands and knees on the bed facing Ernie who had
taken a position with his back braced against the sturdy headboard. Then, while
Jack stretched her too-small rectum with his powerful cock, Ernie the Weasel had
planted his boots against her soft shoulders, taken hold of the bootlaces and
stretched her taut nipples. Ernie had tugged on the tit-laces attached to her
pendulous breasts until the veins had stood out in his arms, every nerve-ending
in her sensitive breasts was screaming in pain, and tears of agony were flowing
down her dusky cheeks.
No doubt about it. Cerise had had some slut-nipples that night ...
*******
Jack was leering down at Honey too, equally absorbed in her stimulating
auto-eroticism. "Lose the panties, Honey; I want to see you pleasure your
pussy just like yer teasin' those juicy titties."
Honey's blue eyes opened when Jack addressed her, breaking the spell she
had talked herself into.
"Please... don't make me ...."
CRACCKKK!! "Aaaiiiieahhhh" Jack had slammed the strap across Honey's bare
belly, half an inch above her golden hair line.
"Do like I said, girl. Ain't you figgered out yet that me and Ern don't
like to be kept waitin'? You make me give you a next one, and it's gonna be
three inches lower. Take 'em off. Nice and slow."
Flushed with mortification, Honey reached for the waist band of her panties
and began lowering them.
"Slower, Honeychile. Give us a good show and maybe me and Ern'll go easy
on you," Jack lied.
Blushing crimson down to her nude breasts, Honey sat up and slowly began to
roll her brief panties down her rounded hips, revealing first her golden
triangle and then the enticing folds of girlflesh which framed her pink gash.
Then slowly, down her long, luscious, scarlet-streaked thighs. Honey's loins
were creamy, in stark contrast to the warm golden tones of the rest of her
sun-tanned body. The contrast in skin tone reminded Jack that he hadn't run
into too many women who made a practice of sunning themselves while topless;
Honey's stiff-nippled breasts were only slightly less tanned than her arms and
legs.
Jack reached down to pull the panties down over Honey's lower legs and
ankles and then stood up again, towering over the beautiful blonde, who was now
wearing nothing more than the angry marks Jack's make-shift whip had left on her
glorious body.
"Spread 'em, girl! Let's see that hot little cunt of yours."
Trembling noticeably, Honey parted her thighs ever so slightly.
"I said, 'Spread em', blondie. Let's see that pretty pink pussy! You're
gonna get the next one on those blonde cunt hairs, Honey-girl, less'n you spread
those nice long legs of yours."
Honey, slowly inched her legs apart.
Jack lifted the belt again. "Honey, when I say 'Spread 'em' I ain't talkin'
about a coupla goddam inches. I want your fucking knees hanging over the edge
of this haybale. You got it?"
Seeing the strap being readied for action, Honey did as she was told,
gradually widening her golden thighs into a gaping inverted V until her lower
legs extended over each side of the oblong bale.
"That's better. And you'd better keep 'em spread, girl, just like that.
'Til I tell you different."
Jack felt his Texas-sized cock swell to even greater erection as his beady
black eyes raped Honey's blushing genitalia. For such a tall well-built young
woman, damned if it didn't look like she had a tight little pussy.
Ernie had crouched down in front of her to enjoy the view. "Geesus, Jack,
look at those tonsils!" Then, his eyes never leaving her gaping vagina, he
added, "Play with yourself, Honey. Get that sweet pussy nice and wet for us."
Blushing with shame, Honey lay back on the bales again and slid her right
hand between her legs and begin gently stroking herself.
"Mmm-mmm, is that nice or what, Jackson"
"Yeah, baby. Lick your fingers, girl. Nice. Now slide 'em up and down
your slit. Now the other hand on your jugs...Beautiful --you'd better keep
those nips stiff, if you know what's good for you!"
"Stroke that sweet blonde pussy... Oh, yeah, that's pretty. Now the clit.
Get it nice and wet. Now tease it... just with your fingertips.... work it,
baby....beautiful...back and forth... mmmm, that's good. Now slide a finger
inside. Deeper... work it around real good, baby. Get those fuckin' juices
flowin'..."
Honey realized with disgust that Ernie the Weasel was rubbing himself, just
as he no doubt had on the many nights he had peeped through her bedroom window.
Honey stroked herself until her firm little clit was tingling. She had almost
begun to think that her tormentors had relented, until she heard Jack bark, "You
were right, Ern. She put on a real nice show for us. But the fun and games are
over, Honey. Get the rope, Ern!"
coming in Chapter Six -- Black Jack's Slocum's 'Big fella' stretches
Honey's, um, endurance, while Ernie the Weasel enjoys a cigar -- but Honey
doesn't .
