Chapter 15 Back at the Ranch - Honey's Painful Homecoming
Chapter 15 Back at the Ranch - Honey's Painful Homecoming
Once Honey Wilson was done washing the scarlet streams of Black Jack
Slocum's blood and the thick ropes of semen from her body, she staggered, still
dripping, from the swimming hole, and with Jack's grudging consent slipped back
into her ragged panties. The rangy gunslinger then quickly roped her wrists
together and gave her a push in the back, indicating that she was to set off in
the direction of the nearby Wilson ranch.
Jack quickly mounted up and after giving Cyclone a gentle nudge, began
following the blonde nineteen-year old down the dirt road. Despite the fact
that he had raped her with bloodthirsty thoroughness twice in the last hour,
Jack could hardly take his eyes from Honey's glorious peaches-and-cream body,
which still glistened from her most recent immersion in the cool clear waters of
the pond. From his vantage point astride Cyclone, Jack delighted in the way
the morning sun splashed her tawny flesh with its warm light. Following her at
a short distance, he enjoyed the youthful bounce of her blonde pigtails on her
rounded shoulders as she trudged down the trail. Below her shoulders her bare
back tapered to a slender waist, which in turn billowed out into womanly hips.
Half-hidden by her ragged panties, the tempting undercurves of her creamy
buttocks melded into her well-toned golden thighs in a way that sent fresh
frissons of lust through his manly cojones.
Occasionally Jack would urge Cyclone to pull up alongside the fair-haired
teenager just so that he could get a fresh look at the front of Honey's body as
well. Her ripe young breasts not only were marked by the deep indentations of
the coarse hempen rope with which he had bound them; they were also still
covered with numerous tiny pinpricks from the myriad of thorny plants that had
assaulted her during her headlong flight for freedom -- not to mention some
faint marks from her torments in the barn yesterday. Honey was painfully
conscious of how her every step brought pleasure to the sinister horseman, but
despite her best efforts to walk in a steady, deliberate measure, she knew that
each stride of her athletic legs caused her tender pleasure-melons to jiggle
gently, affording Slocum a bobbling banquet of voyeuristic pleasure.
Ten minutes after starting out from the secluded pond, the long-legged
blonde and her mounted tormentor reached the end of the main road and they
turned down the narrower, dustier trail that led toward the Wilson ranch. To
Jack's surprise and Honey's chagrin, they found Ernie Gibbs sitting up against
the corral gate, bare-chested, a blood-stained strip of his dusty shirt tied
around the knife-wound in his upper left arm. Another even bloodier improvised
bandage cut from the cloth of his shirt encircled Ernie's head, protruding out
from the underside of the grimy hat that shielded his eyes from the Texas sun.
Ernie was whittling away furiously at a branch cut from a nearby tree, his cheek
filled with a huge chaw, his beady little eyes aflame with fury. But, aside from
the bloody wrappings, apparently not too much the worse for wear.
"Well, if it ain't my dear old partner, Jack," Ernie began. "Who left me
here to bleed to death. I wouldn't 'a done you like that, Jack."
"Aw, shit, Ern. Is it my goddam fault you can't control yer women any
better than you can hold yer liquor? Blondie, here, was halfway down the road
to the Dunbar place, by the time I come outside. If I hadn't 'a tracked her
down, and brung her back, the ranchers around here woulda been havin' a necktie
party before the week was out. And you and me woulda been the guests of honor."
Ernie squinted up at Jack who was standing in line with the morning sun.
"Aw, shit. They wouldn't 'a lynched us just for havin' a little fun with a
cock-teasin' whore like her, would they? We ain't done nuthin' every cowpoke
from here to El Paso wouldn't 'a liked to do."
"Mebbe so, Ern, but we're the ones that did it. And her daddy's a big shot
in these parts. You told me so yerself."
Ernie threw his hat on the ground in disgust. "All the same, she fuckin'
shot me, Jack! Ain't no way they coulda lynched a man who'd bled to death.
Didn't you hear the goddam gun go off? Geesus, my fuckin' head still hurts like
a son-of-a-bitch!"
"Yeah, I heard it. But how the fuck was I supposed to know that Miss
Big-Tits here had gotten loose AND taken your gun AND shot you with it. At
first I figgered you had gotcher damnfool-self drunk and was takin' pot shots at
a coyote, you dumb-ass redneck!"
"Who you callin' redneck, asshole?" Ernie bellowed as he expectorated a
thick dark stream of tobacco juice in the direction of Jack's boots. "As if you
didn't come from the same shit-ass town that I did. And where the fuck would
you be, if I hadn't smuggled that knife to you when you was in the slammer? If
it wasn't for me, you'd still be sharin' your grub with rats in that stinkin'
cell!" As Jack moved slightly so that Ernie was no longer staring directly into
the intense sunlight, the ferret-faced little man looked up at his taller
partner with a quizzical smirk. "What happened to your nose, smart guy? Cyclone
run you into an overhanging branch in the dark?"
Jack ignored this last sally, a reference to the nose Honey had smashed
with a quick kick. He'd made her pay for that, that was for damn sure. He'd
poked a lot of fillies in his time, but he couldn't remember ever raping a woman
with the savagery he'd raped Honey Wilson.
Despite Ernie's ornery nature, he knew there was some truth to his whining
this time. The little weasel really had saved his ass, by helping him break out
of the joint, there was no doubt about that. He didn't want any hard feelings
with Ernie. The tall gunslinger scratched his grizzled three-day beard for a
moment while he pondered how best to patch things up between them.
"All right. The main thing is you're OK, and I was able to catch up to
Miss Footloose here and bring her on back before she was able to get help. Honey
here feels real bad about stabbin' you, and shootin' you. Don't you, Honey?"
Honey, who had been trying to remain out of Ernie's sight by cowering
behind Cyclone, didn't feel the least bit bad about stabbing the perverted
little bastard, but nodded, 'Yes.' What, she wondered despairingly, was this
going to lead to?
"Speak up, girl! She feels so bad, Ern, that she wants to make it up to
you. She wants to show you a real fine time. Ain't that right, Honey?"
Disconsolate, Honey mumbled a misery-laden, "Yes," again. What else
could she do?
"And if Princess Blondie, here, don't give you the best head you ever had,
I'm gonna encourage her with another taste of Black Betsy." Slocum fingered the
gleaming silver buckle of his black belt menacingly as he motioned to Honey to
approach his pal.
As Honey moved toward him, the self-bandaged little man peered angrily up
at her, studying the angry indentations that encircled her mouth-watering
breasts and the tiny dots of thorn-blood that had begun to form anew on her
sun-kissed lust-melons.. "Kee-rist, Jack, " Ernie whistled appreciatively,
"what did you do to her tits, partner? Tie 'em up and stab 'em? From the look
of those rings around 'em, you must have roped those babies up tighter 'n a bale
of Louisiana cotton. Damn, I wished I'd been there to see that!"
"Yeah, I don't much like being woke up from a sound sleep." Jack grinned.
"Funny thing is," he continued, still trying to smooth things over with Ernie,
"when I heard your gun go off, I was in the middle of a dream about that time we
jumped Daisy Thompson."
Ernie nodded, a lecherous smile crossing his lips. The squirming,
ebony-skinned, share-cropper's daughter had been his first sexual partner, not
counting his oft-employed left hand. He could still remember Daisy's squeals
for mercy when the boys had raped her and her tortured wails of pain when Jack
had lashed her sweet, brown, nearly-ripe breasts with Pappy Gibbs' strap. And
the almost frightening look in young Jack's dark eyes as he had flogged her.
That was the day he had realized that Jack Slocum was no ordinary adolescent.
"Anyway," Jack continued, "I was mighty pissed off havin' to chase after
Honey in the middle of the damn night. I figgered maybe it was time to teach
Little Miss Blue-Eyes not to fuck with Jack Slocum. By the time I caught up to
her I reckoned that lassoin' her big knockers up nice and tight and roughin' 'em
up some, might teach her a good lesson."
Ernie glanced over at Honey to ogle her luscious love-mounds, trying to
imagine what full-nippled treasures would have looked-like encased in Jack's
tight-clinging ropes.
"I ain't a man to brag," Jack went on, "but you shoulda her tits, Ern.
That rope choked her big Texas teasers like a hangman's noose. Ain't that
right, Honey?" Jack leered at their bare-breasted prisoner. Honey, her blue
eyes cast downward, felt her cheeks blush with shame as she remember how
sluttish she had felt when her love-mounds had been inflated by Jack's stringent
and painful breast bondage.
Warming to his subject, the usually laconic Slocum continued. "Those
babies was bulgin' like they was fixin' to burst! It ain't easy for a man to
keep his hands off 'a pair of tits like that, so I had to slap 'em around some
to warm 'em up a little, didn't I Honey?" Jack smirked, his eyes bright with
remembered lust. "Yep, me and Honey had us a real good time while I worked her
tits over. Leastways, I did," Jack winked. "Gave 'em a little of the old
Black Jack Slocum special treatment, didn't I girl?"
When Honey remained silent, Jack continued, "Then I hitched her tit-ropes
to Cyclone here," Jack patted his horse on the rump. "It was a sight for sore
eyes, Ern, I'll tell you that, watchin' Cyclone pullin' Honey down that dirt
road by her big, juicy jugs. Cyc was towin' a booby carriage for a ways today,
wasn't you, boy?"
Jack reached over and patted the black stallion on the flank, and then
turned away from his horse and glowered at his semi-nude prisoner, before
pushing her roughly in Ernie's direction.
"Well, don't just stand there, girl! Put your pretty knees in the dirt and
get busy! Seems to me you owe Ernie one hell of a cock-sucking! Ain't that
right, Ern?
"Damn straight, Jack! Any girl shoots a man in the head, seems to me the
least she could do is give him some head until he shoots," Ernie cackled at his
own bad joke. But he wasn't smiling.
The ferret-faced little man, still holding the whittling branch and the
knife in his right hand, rose to his feet a bit unsteadily, bracing himself
against the railing of the corral with his bandaged left arm.
Honey, still wearing only the shredded white panties, which revealed almost
as much of her nicely-curved buttcheeks as they covered, dropped to her knees in
the wind-blown dust in front of Ernie. "Well, pull him out, Princess!" Ernie
sneered mockingly as he put his hands on his thin hips. "He ain't gonna pop out
of there by hisself!"
Ernie Gibbs liked to wear his pants very tight, and his obvious erection
only made his dingy dungarees fit all the tighter. Honey, hampered by her
still-tied wrists, had difficulty with the button on his fly. Nervously
Honey's fingers worked at the button, but she just couldn't get the little disc
to pull through the tight hole.
Jack could still sense some tension with Ernie; the ornery little fucker
had definitely been plenty pissed at him for leaving him face down in the
corral, while he pursued Honey Wilson. But he was pretty sure he knew how to
win him back over.
"Yer takin' too long, Honey," Jack began. "We can't have you triflin' with
us like that. Stand up!"
'Oh, no.' Honey thought, 'Not again.' She stood up, fearfully.
"Please...I'm trying ... really..."
"Shut up and back yer sweet ass up against that corral gate, darlin', "
Jack growled. "The party ain't over jes' yet."
Shaking visibly, Honey backed up until she felt the jagged splinters of the
weathered wooden gate press against her back.
Gibbs took a few menacing steps in her direction. "Stand up straight, you
cock-teasin' slut! Feet wide apart!" the little man snarled. Then he turned to
address his partner. "Geesus! Look at that body, Jackson! OK, Honey, now lift
your hands up and behind your head, and press 'em flat against those purty
blonde pigtails."
Even though she was standing outside under the warm Texas sun, Honey felt a
cold rush of fear sweep through her body. She glanced over at Jack. Behind his
mashed nose, his cold, reptilian eyes stared back at her, aglint with a mixture
of anger and lust. Trembling, she turned back toward Ernie. He was whittling
at the branch faster than ever, almost without looking. Honey watched fearfully
as the sharp blade of his knife glistened in the bright sunlight. Ernie's
watery green eyes swept across the curves of her near nudity like a Panhandle
duststorm, leaving her feeling both soiled and defenseless.
"Now, dammit!" Jack snarled.
Her throat dry, her knees trembling, the beautiful blonde teenager
hesitantly lifted her bound wrists up and placed them behind her head so that
her forearms were parallel to the ground, and her left and right elbows pointed
at Louisiana and New Mexico respectively. As she did so she silently cursed the
way that movement caused her majestic, pink-tipped breasts to rise upward,
proudly, even arrogantly, as she raised her arms. The almost taunting pose of
her love-goblets led Honey to the dreadful premonition that she would be made to
pay, and pay dearly, for her body's provocative but inviting display of defiance
to the barbaric cruelties of her captors.
"Now keep those hands up there behind yer head, goddamnit, or you'll wish
you had!" Jack roared, as he slowly undid his sinister belt once again.
Honey, terrified by the menacing tone of fury in Jack's deep voice,
complied. Why, why had she kicked Ernie yesterday? Why had she tried to escape
last night and again this morning? Every action she took seemed only to worsen
her plight.
"You done pissed me off again, Honey, " Jack mumbled gruffly, as he
doubled up Black Betsy in his huge hairy hands as he moved toward her.
When he was little more than a foot from his comely, nearly-nude prisoner,
Jack rasped, "You oughta know better than to get me riled up like that by now,
Honey," as he let the broad, flat surface of the doubled-up belt rest gently on
top of her up-tilted left breast.
Honey's entire body trembled at Jack's threatening words, and her lush
pleasure-globes were no exception. Even the pale coral peaks of her breasts
quivered nervously at the touch of the tough black leather. Honey's thighs and
buttocks had not yet fully recovered from the terrible lashing Black Betsy had
given them while she had been strapped to the kitchen table. The idea that
Jack's dreadful belt might soon be attacking her far more sensitive breasts was
unthinkable.
"First you cheat me out of a good night's sleep..." Jack began, as he slid
the shining leather caressingly across the still-damp smoothness of her
breast-flesh, letting Honey appreciate the feel of the tough cowhide.
Jack lifted the three-inch wide leather strap about ten inches above
Honey's taut-nippled breast ...
"... on account of you shot my partner in the fuckin' head."
... and then he snapped the broad leather belt down sharply against Honey's
yielding lust-melon!
WHACCKK!!! "AAAGGHHH!!" The punishing geometry of solid rectangular
leather whipping into curved flesh caused Honey to cry out in pain as flames of
agony radiated through her breast. The dampness of her flesh seeming to
accentuate the sting of the leather rather than to lessen it. Despite Jack's
orders to keep her hands behind her head, they swung forward involuntarily to
comfort her burning breast-flesh.
"Yer only makin' it worse fer yerself, Honeychile. Get those fuckin' hands
back behind yer head!"
Trembling like a patch of chaparral in the late afternoon breeze, Honey
hesitatingly obeyed, once again leaving her ripe-nippled mounds defenseless.
She was ashamed of the way her opulent breasts jiggled with her every movement,
attracting salacious stares from the two desperados. Their lustful glare felt
far hotter on her skin than the heat of the late-morning sun. Black Jack Slocum
was eye-balling her man-pleasing lust-globes the way a ravenous wolf looks at a
month-old fawn. His jaw clenched and he bared his white teeth as if he were
going to use them to to tear into Honey's mouth-watering melons; Honey
shuddered at the thought of his fangs closing on one of her tempting pink
nipples, and then slowly crushing the delicate bud between two powerful rows of
teeth.
Jack raged on, the thick veins in his neck pulsing angrily. "And now you
fuck around with Ernie's pants, like you was some kind of village idiot ..."
The belt went up again, this time above her succulent right breast.
"P-please ... no ... not again ... not there..."
"... after breaking my fucking nose, back there."
WHAMM!! "AAAIIIIIAAHHHH!!" Honey cried out despairingly as the terrible
belt cracked her other breast sharply, brutalizing her puckering pink nipple,
and giving her pleasure globe a rosy glow. Fresh tears of pain rushed to her
shimmering blue eyes.
Honey couldn't help it; her hands came forward over her head again, as she
tried to soothe the burning pain in her tawny lust-turrets.
"I thought I told you to hold still. You don't listen too good, do you,
Honey?"
"I ... I ..."
The angry gunslinger drew the belt all the way back behind him, and was
just about to tear into her again, when he suddenly appeared to reconsider and
said quietly, "Here, partner. Seems to me you're the one should have the
honors." When Ernie looked up at him with an expression of surprise on his
homely face, Jack repeated, "Go ahead, take it. You gotta score to settle too."
Jack extended his long arm and handed Ernie the doubled-up belt. "But don't
take too long; best we be thinkin' about gettin' the hell outa here. Who knows
who mighta heard that gun go off last night?"
Ernie stared up at his much taller partner disbelievingly. "Gees, thanks,
Big Jack! Never thought I'd get a chance to use Black Betsy." Ernie, set his
knive and branch down and took the belt. He slowly turned the black leather
instrument over in his hands, whistling in admiration at its superior
workmanship. "Yeah, you're right, partner. I do got me a little score to
settle with blondie, here. I'm gonna teach her what happens to a girl who comes
at Ernie Gibbs with a knife. And this here," he muttered as he hefted Jack's
heavy belt, "will do right fine, Jack."
The ugly little man stepped toward Honey and reached between her supple
thighs and foraged inside her threadbare panties, pawing her prominent labia,
and thrusting first one finger, then two, and then three deep into her love-slit
as Honey cringed in disgust.
"Well, Honey? Did you expect you was gonna cut me and waltz on outa here
like it was nuthin' ? I don't know how you got loose last night, but you can be
damn sure you ain't gonna get loose the next time we tie your fine-lookin' ass
up. Will she, Jack?"
"Not likely, Ern. Not fuckin' likely."
"But before we do that, I'm just gonna have to take a little skin off your
pretty hide, just to teach you not to fuck with Ernie Gibbs!"
Ernie worked his cruel fingers around in her pussy, his swollen, mis-shapen
face inches from her own. His soulless, gray-green eyes looking deep into the
teary bright blueness of hers.
"That's right, Honey. I'm fixin' to whip the ever-lovin' tease out of you.
I'm gonna give you a good baker's dozen with Betsy here. And you're gonna take
it, like the cock-teasin' slut you are."
Ernie removed his hand from inside Honey's panties, and began running both
hands up and down Honey's helpless body, while she stood there powerless to stop
him. "Soft skin," he whispered appreciatively as he fondled her shapely thighs.
"I like soft skin, Honey." Ernie the Weasel's grimy fingers slid around to cup
Honey's well-flogged bottom and he pulled her body roughly against his own.
When Honey started to move her hands downward again to fend off his
loathsome caresses, Ernie stepped back and slapped her viciously across the
outer curve of her left breast.
"Oooohhhh," Honey moaned in pain.
"Listen, Honey, cause I ain't gonna tell you again. Yer gonna keep those
hands behind your head or yer gonna get extra! And I don't want to hear a peep
outa you, either, not a fuckin' peep. For every squawk I hear out of you,
you're gonna get an extra one! And yer gonna count 'em for me, all thirteen of
'em. You miss one, and we start over! Got it?"
"Ready? Here we go!" Ernie stepped back a couple of feet, uncoiled Betsy
and drew a bead on Honey's long, tanned legs. Then, his tongue protruding
lecherously from the opposite corner of his chaw-stuffed mouth, Ernie lashed her
savagely across the tops of her supple thighs.
CRAACKK!! Honey bent forward in agony, as the blow sent flames of pain
shooting through her legs, determined to swallow her pain and to keep her hands
in place behind her head.
"Stand up straight, bitch! You brought this whipping on yourself, damn
it, and yer gonna take it! Or my name ain't Ernie fucking Gibbs!"
As Honey uncurled and straightened her luscious body, Ernie sneered,
"Sorry, Honey, you forgot to count that one; you still got thirteen coming!" as
he laid another scalding slash across her soft thigh-flesh, just below the first
one.
CRAACKK!! This time Honey managed to gasp out, a strangled "One." She
could already see and feel her thighs reddening from the blow. She was
grateful, at least, that it was Ernie Gibbs attacking the defenseless front of
her body with the dreadful belt, and not the far stronger Black Jack Slocum.
Ernie the Weasel picked out his next target, the creamy flesh of her gently
tapering belly. He drew Betsy back, and sent her whistling forward to land with
a resounding CRAACKK just above the edge of Honey's frilly white panties.
He could hear the sudden sharp intake of breath as Honey mumbled, "T-two,"
through her pain.
CRACCKK!! Honey had barely recovered from the second blow when Betsy left
angry red marks right across the middle of both of her sun-tanned thighs. Honey
had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from screaming. "Three," she whispered
through pearly white clenched teeth.
Gibbs walked back and forth in front of her, his homely face contorted into
a grimace of sadistic lust. "Betsy sure gives a girl a little color, don't she,
Jack?" Then he took the thick leather belt back over his shoulder and swept it
forward viciously again.
CRACKK!! Honey's navel erupted in flames, as the horrible belt blistered
her mid-section with a horrendous diagonal slash. It was all Honey could do to
hold her hands in position behind her head, leaving the front of her body
utterly vulnerable. "F-f-four," she murmured, half blinded by the pain.
"Stand up straight, I told you!"
"D-d-dont...please ..."
CRACCKK!! Another shot across her silky-smooth thighs, high up this time.
"Five" she whimpered.
Black Jack Slocum watched the flogging unfold with interest. As he had
surmised, the chance to use Black Betsy on Honey's nude body seemed to have
helped Ernie set aside his displeasure with Jack.
Ernie, his gray-green eyes ablaze with lust, stepped into another vicious
blow.
CRACCKK!! the leather resounded, as the vicious little man wrapped Betsy
right around Honey's ribcage, no more than an inch below the underslopes of her
stiff-nippled love-gourds. Honey swallowed the pain again, "Six."
Almost halfway done, Honey thought gratefully. But she was afraid that she
knew where the next one was going to land.
And she was right. Ernie Gibbs paused to wipe the sweat from his brow.
The sun was quite high in the sky now. It was going to be another hot one,
Ernie could tell. His beady little eyes were drawn like magnets to Honey's
proud, heaving breasts, ringed, red-streaked and tender from Jack's abuse. A
few thin welts were beginning to form where Jack had struck her with the whip
while he had stalked her in the nearby barn.
Some of Honey's damp blonde hair had drifted forward across her chest.
Ernie brushed the golden tendrils aside as he said, "I'll bet Betsy here's been
waitin' for a crack at those juicy jugs of yers, Honey. I sure as hell have."
And then the Weasel drew back the doubled-up belt, in preparation for a high,
hard one...
Ernie was just about to slam the belt into Honey's nude breasts when he
suddenly stopped short.
"Tell you what, Honey," the ornery cowpoke said with a twisted sneer. "How
about you make them nips nice and hard for me. It's OK -- you can use yer
hands. But I'm in a hurry - you got one minute to stiffen those babies up, or
yer gonna get three extra! Right across yer tits!"
Desolate with fear, Honey let her pretty, long-nailed hands drop to her
chest. With her wrists tied she was just able to cup her soft, sore breasts in
her hands, and run her thumbnails across her light pink areolae.
"Rub 'em good now, sweetie."
She flicked her love buds somewhat half-heartedly, trying to will them to
erection.
"C'mon, Honey. I want 'em big and stiff! You only got thirty seconds left,
blondie."
Ernie and Jack watched gleefully as Honey's nails practically tore at her
nipples now, tugging and plucking at them, desperately trying to avert any
additional punishment. Finally, though, her efforts bore fruit -- by the time
the minute was up, a lovely coral spike thrust out boldly from each of her firmy
young breasts.
"Geesus H Kee-rist, Jack! Get a load 'a those tits! Round and tan and pink
and pointy! You tell me, Jack -- you ever see a more whippable set of
knockers?"
"Not so's I can remember, Ern. Nice good targets, ain't they?"
"Damn straight! And they come equipped with their very own bulls'-eyes,
too!" Ernie enthused. "Hmmm, I got me an idea, Jack." The little rat-faced man
had an evil look on his face. By now, Honey had come to know that look, and
another shiver passed through her naked young body.
"Please ... no more ..." Honey beseeched her grim captors, as tears of pain
coursed down her beautiful face.
But Black Jack Slocum and Ernie the Weasel hadn't ridden halfway across Texas to
do anybody any favors. Especially a half-naked, nineteen-year-old beauty like
Honey Wilson....
