Chapter XI Liquid Fire
"Damn it! I told you to take it slow," Ernie told Teresa, who was doing
her best not to retch after swallowing Ernie's weasel-seed. Ernie Gibbs'
sexual stamina, which was only a tiny fraction of Jack's, was always a sore
point. With his typical grace, Ernie could always be replied on to blame the
woman in question for his shortcomings. "You heard me, Jack, I told the slut to
slow down."
Jack, who'd heard it all before, had been poking around the room while he
waited for Ernie to finish. He picked up a small card from the nightstand,
noticing that it was addressed to Teresa and bore the graceful handwriting of a
young girl. The final words were "Feliz cumpleanos!" and signed 'Maria'.
Jack had lived in Texas most of his life -- long enough to know what those
Spanish words meant. "Hey, Ern! Guess what? Our little Teresa, here, is a
birthday girl. Ain't you?"
When Teresa was slow in answering, Ernie, again armed with his whip, lashed
her across her rounded buttocks. "The man's talkin' to you, Teresa! When's yer
goddam birthday?"
"Tomorrow... Domingo."
"Sunday? Hell, it's past midnight already. Well Happy Fucking Birthday,
Teresa. How old are you anyway?"
"Solamente diez y ocho... only eighteen," Teresa told him, in a voice that
was half sob, half whisper. "Please... can you just go, now. Por favor... I
will tell no one."
"Eighteen? Is that all? Shit, Jack, we wuz whippin' us some jailbait ass
until about an hour ago." He brought the thongs down on Teresa's rounded
bottom-cheeks again. "Some fine jailbait ass!" Just then another bolt of pain
shot through the left side of Ernie's face, causing him to grimace in agony.
"Sorry, honey, we wouldn't want you to have to celebrate yer birthday alone,
would we Jack?"
"That's right, Ern -- tell you what." The brooding, vulturesque giant eyed
Teresa's nude body while he thought for a moment. "Whaddya say we tie our
hot-blooded dancin' girl up in a nice little birthday package. Go out in the
bar and bring me one of them stools, Ern. I got me an idea. Oh, and bring me
another bottle of that tequila too -- the one that's 160 proof."
Ernie nodded and walked out of the room, naked as a jaybird. He stopped to
sample the chili that was still on top of the big black stove. It was hot and
spicy -- just like he liked it. He tried another spoonful, nodded approvingly
and continued on into the bar. He watched the rain continue to come down in
sheets outside for a moment. 'That'll keep the greasers home in there beds," he
mused to himself. "And give me and Black Jack that much more time with our sweet
senorita.' Then, anxious to see what Slocum was up to, he grabbed a tequila
bottle with one hand and a wooden bar stool in the other, and headed back toward
the bedroom.
"Well, whaddya think?" Jack asked. Jack had used his few minutes alone
with Teresa productively. In the glimmering candlelight Ernie could see that
she was now lying face down, lengthwise, in the middle of the bed, her arms
still bound behind her. But now each of her pretty ankles was securely lashed
to the sturdy posts at the foot of the bed. Ernie walked around to stand
directly behind her, admiring Jack's ropework. Teresa's legs were spread-eagled
as far apart as they would go, her legs forming a tempting inverted V, her
pussy-lips, still wet with Jack's cum, naked and vulnerable. The muscles of
her coppery legs were taut with the tension of the painful bondage, and her
whippable buttock-globes were tight with fearful anticipation.
Ernie, standing in the doorway looking for all the world like an ugly
one-eyed monkey who'd lost a fur fight, whistled in admiration. "Yep, that sure
is one purty birthday package, Jack," and proffered the bottle of tequila.
Jack took it, twisted off the cap and took a sip, making a face. "Damn,
that shit burns goin' down," he grumbled. "But it'll make a good disinfectant.
When I flipped her over, I saw that them cactuses had cut up her knockers pretty
good. We wouldn't want those big fuckin' chi-chis to get all infected now,
would we?" Jack asked with an evil grin.
Jack pointed to the far side of the bed. "Ern, you stand over there. When
I lift her up, rub some of this rot-gut into her tits. There's enough alcohol
in this shit to kill the biggest fucking germ in Me-ji-co. OK, you ready? Here
goes!"
Jack got a good grip on Teresa's black mane, and jerked her head up hard.
With her ankles lashed to the bedposts, and her legs and hips flat on the bed,
Jack lifted her head and shoulders back cruelly. Teresa groaned in misery,
fearful that if Jack pulled any harder, her spine might snap like a late-summer
twig. Meanwhile Ernie splashed some of the clear liquor into one hand and
rubbed the strong tequila into Teresa's cactus-gouged right breast. Teresa's
ripe, pendulous breasts were still beautifully framed by the two bands of white
rope that circled her chest just above and below them.
"Aiiiiiieee!!" Teresa yelped, as soon as the alcohol touched her body. The
tequila seemed to seek and find every pore, every crack in her tawny
breast-flesh. Teresa wriggled in misery as the liquid fire burned into the
surface of breasts that had been ravaged by leather and lash, that had been
pierced by razor-sharp cacti, and that had been gouged by the stone on Pepe's
ring.
"No? no more ? please," Teresa moaned as she tossed her dark mane from side
to side like a dog coming in out of the rain.
"From the way she's wriggling, looks like they oughta call that stuff "Old
Titburner, Jack," Ernie smirked as he offered the bottle to his partner. Jack
hoisted the bottle to his lips once again and took a slug. Even Jack Slocum,
who'd drunk enough whiskey in his life to irrigate a cotton field, contorted his
face as the fiery alcohol went down.
"Geesus, Ern. That stuff's stronger than white lightnin'," Jack grimaced
as he handled the slender-necked bottle back to his sidekick.
Ernie gleefully poured another handful of tequila into his cupped right
hand, spilling a fair amount on the bed as he did so, and then tilted his hand
so that the alcohol trickled down onto the upper curve of Teresa's breast,
bathing the succulent melon in a second fiery torrent. Though bound hand and
foot, Teresa' upper body vibrated with a series of agonized shudders as Ernie
massaged the tequila into the writhing beauty's tortured breast. Then he tilted
the bottle again and let a couple of drops fall directly onto Teresa's sensitive
nipple. It took a second or two for the liquor to do its evil work, but when it
did, Teresa's upper body reacted as if Ernie had held a still-warm match-tip to
her breast.
When his ferret-faced partner had finished with Teresa's right breast,
Jack let go of her hair, allowing the beleaguered Latina beauty to fall
face-first into the soft mattress. The two men then switched positions, with
Ernie going to the other side of the bed. Once again Jack lifted Teresa's head
and shoulders while Ernie attended to her other breast, liberally sloshing the
tequila onto the tender flesh and then working it deeper and deeper into her
golden-brown skin. As the alcohol seeped into her tenderized flesh, Teresa felt
as if her beautiful young breasts were being bathed in acid.
When both of Teresa's young breasts were slick with strong tequila, Jack
let go of her hair, letting her face crash into the mattress once again.
"Damn, that tequila burns MY hands and they ain't hardly cut at all," Ernie
groused. "Let me go rinse 'em off in that basin out there." Ernie looked down
to see Teresa's upper body twitching in agony as she tried to rub her boobs into
the mattress seeking relief from her torment. But Ernie had intentionally not
mopped up the puddles of the liquor he had spilled, and Teresa's agitated
movements only served to immerse her sensitive breasts in those fresh pools of
liquified fire, to Jack and Ernie's intense amusement.
