Chapter 13 Recapture
Jack exultantly approached the prostrate blonde, who by now was too
exhausted to resist, or even to cry out. Burying his knee in her buttcrease,
Jack warned her in no uncertain terms that if she did cry for help, he would
slit her throat with the Bowie knife he wore at his belt.
But just to be safe, he proceeded to gag Honey with his neckerchief - they
were very nearly within shouting distance of the Dunbar ranch. It took him only
a few seconds to undo the lasso, and then jerk Honey's arms back behind her. He
expertly trussed her up, left wrist to right elbow, right wrist to left elbow.
Black Jack rolled her over roughly, and was not disappointed to see tears
welling up in Honey's bright blue eyes. Jack was also rewarded with a fresh
view of her spectacular breasts in the first faint light of daybreak. The early
morning sun seemed to bathe them in its soft, warm glow as they rose and fell
with her every labored breath.
When she was safely bound he grabbed Honey by her hair and dragged her
across the road behind a thicket, where they were safely out of sight of the
Dunbar ranch, as Cyclone dutifully followed. While he was dragging her, he had
an idea. An idea Ernie would have gotten a kick out of, he knew.
Honey's upper body was streaked with blood from many tiny cuts; a number
of burrs, prickers and thorns of various kinds were embedded in her tanned belly
and her boldly thrusting pleasure-melons. Her coral nipples were rigid and
slightly bluish from the cold; a red droplet leaked from one of them, the result
of a thorn piercing the tender bud. The fronts of her long, luscious thighs
were in even worse shape, criss-crossed as they were by dozens of nicks and
scratches.
But back to Jack's idea. "You put me to a lot of trouble tonight, Honey.
And I don't like being put to no trouble by no woman. Not to mention the fact
that you put a bullet in my sidekick and chased his horse off to God knows
where."
"I would have thought you would have figured out that it's not a good idea
to fuck with Jack Slocum yesterday. But since you didn't learn yesterday, I
reckon I'm gonna have to learn you another lesson today."
During his little speech Jack had taken a long length of fine black rope,
not much thicker than a heavy twine, from his saddlebag and tried to wrap it
around Honey's opulent right breast. But because her breasts were still
sporting a thin film of bacon grease, the rope kept slipping off.
Not to be dissuaded from his goal, Jack Slocum grabbed two handfuls of
wind-blown Texas sand from the ground, and mashed the gritty sand into her
blood-dappled upthrusting breasts. Even as she lay on her back on the ground,
and notwithstanding all the abuse that they had suffered, her succulent
pink-tipped breasts surged skyward, as if they were beckoning to the morning
star. But the only things to return their salute were the powerful hands of
Black Jack Slocum.
Jack worked the coarse sand deep into her rounded breastflesh, completely
unconcerned with her discomfort when the sand found its way into the numerous
tiny lacerations that covered their curved surfaces. Within a few minutes
though, the fine sand had done its job, and removed most of the slickness from
from her boobs. And then Jack wiped most of the surface sand away, leaving just
a few grains here and there on her young flesh.
From Honey's point of view, it felt as if her tender breasts had been
sand-papered. They had been rubbed raw, in places, and worst of all, they were
still utterly at Jack's mercy.
Which was just the way he liked it.
He stood the half-naked blonde up then, ignoring her pleading, voiceless
"No!" through the gag. With her arms pulled taut behind her, her luscious
breasts jutted forward even more provocatively than usual.
"That's better!" Slocum gave her a twisted grin. "This is for Ernie,
Honey."
Jack took a length of the thin black rope again and looped it around the
base of her quivering left breast again, yanking hard on the ends to remove any
hint of slack. This time, there was no grease to prevent the cord from biting
deeply into her titflesh. Honey winced as she watched Black Jack take out his
anger on her poor boob. With the base of her tit constricted, the juicy globe
soon begun to swell considerably.
Jack was in his element. It had been four years since he'd had the
pleasure of tying up a juicy pair of breasts. Four years since he'd seen the
look of utter disbelief in a woman's eyes when she understood what he was about
to do. Cause not two women in a thousand, had any fuckin' idea that a real man
like him loved nothing more than enjoying their looks of fear, surprise, and
ultimately submission when he turned their soft, sensitive melons into bulging
hemispheres of pain.
But Honey was going to learn. She was going to get the message loud and
clear...
Honey Wilson's tits had been big and bold before he started working on
them, but Jack knew just how to make 'em stand out even more. He wrapped the
black cord around her breast again, and once again tugged hard at the ends.
Twice more he wound the rope tightly around the captive melon, squeezing more
and more of her breastflesh toward him as he did so.
When he was done, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Already, in the
dawn's early light, he could see the shadowy blue veins and the pale pink
roseates of her pleasure-mounds becoming much more prominent. Years of
experience had taught him that for best results, you had to take the size and
shape of a woman's breasts into account before settling on the most effective
method of tying 'em up.
"Lookin' good, Honey. Lookin' damn good!!" Satisfied that the technique he
had used on Honey could hardly have been improved upon, Jack carefully proceeded
to imprison her other breast in like fashion.
While he worked he noticed that both of Honey's golden globes still bore
traces of the marks left by his slaps and Ernie's punches from yesterday. And
they were dotted here and there with prickers, thorns, and speckles of blood.
But Jack's eyes, were irrevocably drawn to the four loops of black cord that
had sunk deeply into each creamy orb. Jack wasn't quite sure why, but he always
liked to use black rope when he worked on a blonde's tits. White rope looked
better on dark-skinned girls.
Jack was damn pleased with Honey's tit-popping breast bondage. He'd tied
her throbbing treasures so tight that they seemed to be strangled by the black
cords. They were thrusting and bulging to beat hell. And he could tell that
they had to be throbbing with pain, too. It had only been a minute or two, but
already her swollen jugs had begun to change color slightly; they pointed at
Jack like a pair of twin torpedos. Torpedos that seemed likely to explode at
any minute.
Honey watched in dismay as Jack's big hands reached for her taut globes,
and then encircled them; his lightest touch would be torture, she knew.
"Nnngggmphh! Nnngmmpphh!!" she pleaded incoherently.
"Ya see how purty I made 'em look, Honey? Why, they're settin' up just
like a coupla them grapefruits we used to grow back home." Black Jack's big
hands began to close lightly on Honey's naked breasts.
"Yup, just as big and round as grapefruits." He squeezed a little harder,
now, his moderate pressure forcing blood to trickle through a few of the cuts
she had sustained when she had fallen into the thorny mesquite in the darkness.
"Tasty ruby red grapefruits." He clenched still harder. Honey had never felt
such pain. Her knees gave way, but his unforgiving grip on her nude breasts
kept her from falling to the ground.
"You know what I like to do with grapefruits, Honey?"
Honey was screaming incoherently into her gag.
"I like to squeeze 'em, Honey. I like to squeeze 'em so hard that the
juice runs out." His grip tightened a little more. "Right through the rind."
His grip tightened yet again. "Right through the fucking rind!" A little more
blood was oozing now. "Ya gotta squeeze 'em damn hard to do that, Honey,
especially if the fruit is young and firm." Jack 's teeth were clenched now,
and the tendons in his forearms were rigid from the force he was exerting.
Honey could feel an almost volcanic pressure building inside her tortured
breasts; they were adorned with several thin streams of scarlet now, as if she
were wearing some strange erotic war paint.
Jack's hands relaxed, then, and he let them drop to his sides. But just so
that he could enjoy the deep impressions his talons had left in Honey's bleeding
breastflesh.
"Mmmm-mm. Don't know how they're feelin', Honey, but they sure are lookin'
good. All red and gold and pink and wrapped up in those pretty black ribbons. "
"Yer a tall girl, Honey. What, 5' 9"? How'd ya like to be a little taller?"
And Jack deliberately took her two distended breast tips securely between
thumbnail and forefinger and lifted. Slocum stood more than half a foot taller
than the naked blonde, and as he pulled upward, he seemed to be trying to lift
her in the air by her chilled young nipples. Jack could see her screaming into
her gag. After some seconds he relented and let go, but not before he had
turned her pink nipples into twin pellets of pain.
And then, without warning, "SLAPP!! Jack backhanded her viciously across
one swollen bleeding breast. The force of the blow drove Honey to her knees in
agony in the middle of the road. The tightness of her breast bondage magnified
many times the pain she had endured when he had slapped her tits yesterday.
"Get the fuck up, you snivelling slut! I ain't hardly started with you,
yet!" When the cowering Honey climbed to her feet, Black Jack Slocum's thick
knuckles slammed into her other throbbing globe, the back of his big paw sending
the nearly-naked blonde careening into the dirt again.
"Daylight's comin' on. I reckon I'll have to git you back to the ranch
before we can have any more fun. "
Jack had been careful, when tying Honey's tits, to leave long leads
trailing from each breast. To Honey's horror Jack took the leads and tied them
to his saddle horn. Then he reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a light
whip.
It couldn't be! But sure enough Jack flicked Cyclone on the rump with the
whip and the stallion began to start back toward the Wilson ranch. Pulling the
exhausted young blonde forward by her bound breasts! Her arms being cinched
behind her, high on her back, didn't make the journey any easier, either.
The horse began at a moderate walk, but after a few hundred yards, Jack,
who was following along on foot, playfully snapping the whip every now and then,
caught Honey's eye and with a cruel thin-lipped smile, he flicked Cyclone again.
When the horse moved forward at a brisker pace, the reins jerked tighter on her
swollen boobs, and it was everything Honey could do to keep her balance.
Black Jack was pitiless. He knew that the blonde had to have been
exhausted by her two mile run, not to mention her ordeal of the day before. But
each time, just when she seemed to have adjusted to Cyclone's quickened gait,
Jack would give the horse a flick and the stallion would pick up the pace.
Several times Honey's legs gave out completely, and she fell forward; only the
angle that connected the breast ropes to the saddle kept her from falling on her
face. But each fall took an excruciating toll on her tender boobs. It was a
testament to Jack's artistry with rope that his hempen harness held her
blood-smeared breasts captive throughout the long trek back.
Halfway home, it was clear that Honey could no longer keep up with
Cyclone's accelerating pace and Jack stopped the horse for a few minutes to let
her catch her breath. Jack was no necrophiliac; he wanted a hurtin' Honey, not a
dead one. But when she was ready to continue, her breasts blush-red from their
strict confinement, he added to her misery by taking the whip and giving her two
punishing slashes across the tops of her tortured tits and then applying half a
dozen vicious lashes to the backs of her well-prickered thighs.
The journey back to the ranch was the worst hour of Honey's life. She had
been close, so close to escaping, and now here she was being dragged by her tits
to a fate unknown. And with every tortured step the fiendish black cords seemed
to bury themselves more deeply into her swollen breast-mounds.
Worst of all, every few minutes, as she jogged along behind Cyclone, she
caught Black Jack's eye. Each time he gave her the same enigmatic smile. What
fate lie in store for her back at the ranch?
