Chapter 11 Pursuit
When Jack Slocum first heard the gunshot, he had been dreaming of his
boyhood in east Texas and his first conquest, Daisy Thompson. Daisy was the
round-bottomed sixteen year old daughter of a neighboring black sharecropper.
Jack had just turned fourteen then, and he had pleasured the obliging Daisy out
behind Pappy Gibbs' wood-shed. He had enjoyed her tasty young body so much
that, when he set up his next rendezvous with the comely wench, he had invited
Ernie and three of their redneck pals to watch through the woodshed window.
It had been a typically sultry Texas afternoon, and excited by the thought
of his buddies watching, Jack had hid slid Daisy's homespun dress up her dark
thighs and fondled and teased the hot-blooded teen until she was squirming with
girl-lust. When she was good and hot, he called out to his concealed buddies
and told 'em to come on out if they were looking for a piece of the action.
When Daisy realized what was happening she smoothed her dress down and
tried to struggle to her feet and get away, but she never had a chance against
the five adolescent white boys. They quickly threw her to the ground, and five
pairs of eager hands quickly made short work of her thin dress. Soon there were
ten hands pawing at her gleaming thighs, her dark chocolate breasts, and groping
her sopping cunt.
"Geesus, she's wet down there! She really wants it!" Ernie called out.
"No, fellas, please ..."
"You'd better shut up, girlie, if you know what's good for you!" Ernie
hissed.
"Well if'n she want's it, let's give it to her, then!" said Fatty Johnson.
Fatty weighed over 200 lbs and he was only thirteen.
And then with four strong boys available to hold the sobbing girl down, all
five of the boys quickly took a turn slamming their stiff young dicks into
Daisy's frizzy-fringed quim. The boys, being inexperienced, all came quickly.
When each had raped the pretty black teenager, Ernie said, as he pinched
the perky nipples that capped her sweaty breasts, "I hear nigger bitches love to
suck cock. Ever suck any white boys' cocks, Daisy?"
"No, I never done nuthin' like that. That's nasty. Please ... I want to
go home."
Ernie was pissed. "Whaddya mean, 'no'?! And you better call me sir, when
you speak to me, you black slut! Let's try it again, Daisy. How about you suck
our cocks real nice, like you do them black boys?"
"No, suh. I never did nuthin like that, I swear. Let me go on home. I won't
tell no one. I promise."
"Who does she think she is?" chimed in gangly pimply-faced Bubba Whittaker.
"I'll be goddamned if the lyin' bitch is gonna suck black cock and not ours!"
"Right, Bubba! This little darkie slut needs a lesson. And I know just
how to give it to her!"
And with that, Ernie dashed back into the woodshed, and emerged seconds
later with a heavy yard-long leather strap. "My pappy's used this on me plenty;
don't you worry, Bubba. She'll be beggin' to suck you off right quick or my
name ain't Ernie Gibbs. Put her across that stump over yonder."
Moments later, the four boys held their squirming ebony captive face down
over the round remnant of a decapited elm tree. Jack, twisting her right arm,
noticed for the first time, something that would intrigue him for years -- why
is it that black women have such beautifully concave butts?
"Hold 'er tight, boys! I'm fixin' to whip the shit out of that sweet black
ass!" Ernie yelled. Then he took the strap and gave Daisy five ferocious
slashes across the roundness of her butt cheeks, each stroke punctuated by a
high-pitched yelp from their captive. "You just let us know, Daisy, when you get
a hankerin' to swallowing some dick."
And then Ernie handed the strap to Lenny Morrison, who was only twelve and
was beside himself with juvenile glee, giggling, as he flogged the squirming
brown buttocks of their softly sobbing victim. After five solidly landed blows,
he offered the strap to Jack. "Your turn, Jack! Let her have it!"
Jack, easily the tallest and strongest of the boys, hefted the strap in a
sweaty hand, and almost instantly was aware of new feelings within him. He felt
the sinews in his arms and shoulders tighten with anticipation, as if all the
muscle-building farm work he had done in his young life had been in preparation
for this moment.
Jack stripped off his shirt so that Daisy could see his well-muscled upper
body. From the terror in her eyes he could tell that while she might have though
that Ernie and and Lenny were skinny weaklings, Jack Slocum was gonna whip her
with all the strength and fury of a full-grown man.
"Yeah, baby," he whispered softly. "You're gonna get it good."
Tightening the grip on the punishing strap he brought it down on across the
quivering summits of Daisy's posterior with a thunderous WHAACCKKK!!! leaving
an angry mark across the lovely cleft that divided her buttcheeks.
"AAAAIEEEAAAHHHHHH!!" Daisy screamed. "Please ... God ... Jesus ..."
"Hold her tight, boys!" Jack exclaimed through tightly clenched teeth.
WHACCKKK!!!! The rangy teenager ripped into Daisy's shiny brown bottom
curves again.
"OOOOHHHHHWWWW!!!" Daisy moaned as she writhed in agony.
The feel of the leather in his hands, the anguished cries of the young
girl, sent sensations of mastery coursing through Jack's young body. For the
first time in his young life he felt fully alive, as if he had met his destiny.
He slashed Daisy hard across the backs of her satiny thighs, and then
revisited her nude asscheeks. He'd had many a hard-on before, but today, with
the strap in his hand, and this young naked girl at his mercy, he had an
erection that dwarfed any he had ever had before.
Jack cracked her across the middle of her back, evoking another howl of
agony from young Daisy.
His five strokes were up now. But he wasn't through with Daisy Thompson.
Not by a long shot.
"Flip her over!" Jack directed his buddies, in a voice choked with lust,
"On her back. I'm going to give her a few on those sweet titties!" He was
dying to leave some lurid stripes across her firm young breasts.
" Jesus, no! Please, God, Jack don't hit me there!" Daisy's soft brown eyes
rolled in terror as Jack's henchmen turned the wildly struggling girl over,
eventually managing to pin her spread-eagled wrists and ankles to the ground.
Jack eyeballed her gaping pussy, still coated with adolescent semen. Maybe he'd
give her a few there, too, he thought.
But first he was gonna lay some leather on those coffee-colored tits!
Daisy shook her head 'No! No!' as Jack, his man-cock throbbing, eyed the
swelling curves of Daisy's proud young breasts, topped by a pair of tempting
chocolate chip nipples. What a pair of targets! he thought to himself, as he
lifted the leather strap high over his head...
BANG!!
The gunshot in the corral exploded, waking Jack from his delicious dreamy
remembrance, just before Ernie's daddy's strap had descended for the first of
several vicious lashes he had given the Negro nymph's gleaming adolescent
breasts.
Jack drowsily climbed to his feet, sporting a massive erection, the result
of his erotic dream. He stretched, and peered into the darkness of the room.
Between the alcohol he had consumed, the darkness, and the unfamiliar
surroundings, it took him a few seconds to get his bearings, to remember that he
was in the Wilson farmhouse, and not in prison.
Once his head cleared he swore under his breath. "That damn fool
son-of-a-bitch, Ernie. That sawed-off little bastard is out there shooting at a
coyote. And the damn coyote is smarter'n he is!"
Jack was pissed at having been disturbed, just as his dream was nearing its
climax, but then it occurred to him that now that he was out of jail, he didn't
have to take his pleasure in dreams and memories anymore. He had a real live
girl in the next room strapped to the kitchen table. Little Daisy had been a
pretty young thing; but Hïney Wilson was downright ball-tightening gorgeous.
His huge manhood tingling at the thought of the luscious body of the blonde
in the kitchen, Jack stumbled in the darkness looking for the candle he had seen
on the endtable, and reached for a match in his shirt pocket. He was ready for
another go at Honey, damned ready; he could almost feel her cunt muscles
contracting around his boner.
Jack struck the match, which helped him locate the candle in the darkness.
Having lit the candle, he picked up the candle holder and started toward the
kitchen. "Honey," he said as he pushed open the door that led to the kitchen,
"I hope yer in the mood to swallow some Texas-sized cock! But if yer not, Betsy
here'll be happy to discuss the matter with..."
"What the hell?!?" She was gone! Jack snapped himself awake now. The
leather straps that had held her lay impotently on the floor. The door leading
outside was ajar. The gunshot that had woken him took on new significance.
"Ernie!!" Jack bellowed. But Ernie didn't answer. And Jack realized that
he had no idea of Ernie's whereabouts. Jack had retired first, to the pleasant
music of some solid-sounding implement of pain smacking Honey's firm female
flesh, punctuated regularly by her anguished moans of pain. It was probably
that erotic lullaby that had summoned up the recollections of Daisy in his
sleep.
Had Ernie let her go? Taken her to a bedroom? Or to a new venue for
punishment?
Or had she escaped somehow?
"Ernie!!" he hollered again, into the stillness of the night. And then
Jack stepped through the back door and outside. There was a chill in the Texas
night air, and the candle quickly blew out, leaving him cursing in the darkness.
Jack stopped to listen for a moment, and thought he could hear the rhythm of
horses' hooves in the distance.
Jack whistled a piercing whistle, his old familiar way of calling Cyclone.
He was lucky that Bubba Whittaker, the boyhood buddy with whom he'd left Cyclone
before the trial, had kept the horse for him; he had thought that he'd be out in
six months, never dreaming that it would take him four years to make his escape.
Cyclone had been mighty glad to see him when he'd come back to retrieve the big
stallion just a few days earlier. But would the black stallion remember his
whistled signal after all this time?
For a few minutes, Jack stumbled around in the darkness making his way
blindly toward the corral; that gunshot should have wakened the two horses, but
he could neither hear nor see them. The two harmless old hound dogs barking
nearby were the only sounds that broke the silence of the night.
But just then, the moon peaked out from behind a puffy cloud, and he saw
Ernie lying face down next to the corral, the gate open, and the horses gone.
Obviously Honey had somehow gotten loose, or that fool Ernie had let her loose,
and she had gotten the better of him and escaped. He had to stop her before she
reached that ranch about three miles down the road; there had been a lot of
horses hitched up in front of the Dunbar place when he had passed by on his way
to the Wilson ranch. There were more men on that ranch than he wanted any part
of.
He whistled loudly again, hoping that the black stallion was still within
hearing distance; if he wasn't, Jack was as good as back in prison. He bent
down over his fallen comrade. His partner was bleeding from his left shoulder
and a head wound. Ernie was breathing, but that was about the extent of Jack's
diagnostic capabilities. "You fucking bitch!" he whispered to himself, cursing
Honey. "If I ever get my hands on you!"
Then faintly, he began to hear the rumbling of a horse's hooves. Jack
crouched down behind the corral gate to be on the safe side, but his caution
proved to be unwarranted. It was Cyclone that was hurtling back toward the
Wilson farmhouse in response to his whistle.
"Come here, boy," Jack called to his horse. We've got us a blonde to track
down." And then, looking down at his fallen crony, "Sorry, Ern, ain't much I
can do for you, and if I don't catch up to blondie, nothin' I could do fer you
would do either one of us much good . Hang on partner, if you can, and I'll try
to come back fer you after I hunt down that big-titted blonde."
And Jack mounted the black stallion, called, "Giddy-up" and horse and rider
took off down the dirt road in hot pursuit of Honey Wilson.
