Bounty Hunter

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “No, more please!” she gasped, as the erotic feelings quickly vanished.

  Her desperation was of no concern to Ramon. “Hardly a drop left,” he informed her.

  But of course, that wasn’t true at all. A steady stream of liquid continued to flow into her body, creating an excruciating pressure that threatened to explode outward if she didn’t gain control. Panic loomed like a rabid beast. Her body answered, clenching hard against itself.

  When Ramon finally removed the long-necked pouch from her anus, she panicked again. Her body cringed in distress as she forced the waters back, until, after only a few seconds of holding hard against the threatening onslaught, her belly finally settled down. By then, the spice, a concoction of ground Mexican peppers from the scalding sensation she experienced, had begun its work. Her body heat climbed to an alarming degree, while her insides burned, and the awesome sensation expanded inside her trembling loins.

  While she held on, Ramon spoke to her softly in English as if he was there to soothe the girl. But the gist of his message came with a bite as stinging as the bitters waters churning in her bowels. “Logan tells me you misbehaved for him last night—this on top of running from the man you have pledged to serve. He knows you as a rebellious hellion who needs to be reminded of her sacred duty.” He rubbed the slave’s wounded ass, knowing that his squeezing hands were bringing back the lesson of her early morning hours of punishment. “A hurt like this should cleanse you of your insanity. But we all know that great rebellion requires a great atonement to set it right, more than a good beating can do. You should be grateful that the bounty hunter has brought you to us. Here, in this gentle town, we take the slavery of our women seriously. Those who serve must see their humble position as their hallowed duty, their mission, the place from which they draw strength and inspiration.

  “Your failings, slave, make you a pariah in our eyes. The only way to redeem yourself from your sin is to be thrust deep into your natural state of submission and obedience, to debase yourself until you will never again think of rebelling. It will be an abhorrent thought washed from your body and brain forever.”

  Her body heated like a boiling kettle. An explosion was near, but so too was the state of surrender the man demanded. Unlike the blows of a belt, or paddle or whip, this new torture consumed her from the inside and spread outward to her skin. Her sweat was odorous with the scent of the spice. She tasted the fire in her mouth. She soon became delirious, swimming inside a bizarre ecstasy, letting go. It would surprise her later that she could even hold on to the soapy hot enema water in these strange circumstances. But she did hold on until the raging fire in her started to subside. Then her mind resurfaced, regaining some sense of reality. Even her eyes gazed around, seeing Ramon’s pant legs as he stood close to her and then Dona Maria watching warily and the stone-faced bounty hunter watching with the same cold face. He had rolled a cigarette and puffed the tangy tobacco in long draughts.

  Jill felt a sudden, stinging hand smack on her ass.

  “Off the stool and crawl to the bucket.”

  She obeyed unthinkingly, almost before Ramon completed the command. She understood without having to be told that the metal waste can in the corner was meant for her. As the liquid in her body emptied, clattering against the metal sides, relief poured through her like a refreshing rain. Ramon’s treatment worked. She had no will, no fight left in her once fractious soul. As if she’d been re-rooted in the ground of her submissive nature, the desire to flee vanished.

  “Now, mi amigo, she is ready to use,” Ramon said to Logan, beaming. His large, white teeth were a brilliant contrast against his swarthy skin. He gave her one last and very lust-filled glance and the two men exited the washhouse.

  Dona Maria finished the preparations, covering Jill’s body with a soothing aloe-based lotion. It cooled the skin and, when the woman bent her over and swathed her anus, soothed the burning tissue.

  Finished with her, the matron pushed Jill’s shackled body out the door and into the street, having no qualms about parading a naked slave girl from the washhouse to the hacienda, as curious villagers looked on. Moving her into the dining room, she led Jill to an out-of-the-way corner where she attached her shackled hands to eyebolts that had been put there for that purpose. Jill sat with her ass on the hard wooden floor and her arms in the air fixed to the wall, waiting for what came next.

  

  Jill watched while Logan and his dozen friends ate a meal of beans and rice, shredded pork, salsa and tortillas. The small lunch Logan fed her bite by bite in the back of the pickup was long gone by now. Seeing so much tempting, spicy smelling food before her, her mouth watered in hope, while her stomach spasmed with hunger.

  The men and their woman spoke Spanish so that Jill had no idea what entertained them for nearly two hours as they slowly consumed their feast. Quantities of beer were drunk and as the time wore on, their laughter grew more raucous.

  While still alert, Jill scanned the table, her eyes often resting on Logan. His Spanish to be seemed to be as fluent as his friends’, although she had no real way of telling. She wondered about his relationship to this tiny community—a relative or just a friend? He fit inside this atmosphere as if he’d been raised in the village. Was this where he went when he wasn’t chasing wayward slaves? Was this his home? Just another of many intriguing mysteries concerning her bounty hunter, she decided.

  After awhile, she became sleepy, and her mind eventually drifted off in an aimless succession of sexual images too vague to remember. She imagined her tiredness as a shroud, disguising her, preventing the others in the room from seeing her as she sat bound to the wall. More likely, those feasting at the table were simply too involved in each other’s schemes and stories and laughter to care much about a shackled slave girl.

  When the dinner ended, the women moved from their seats and bustled around like bees, efficiently clearing the table, while the men smoked cigars, drank goblets of wine and continued their animated conversation. Jill would listen for a time, then fall back into her half-slumbering state, letting her mind drift off into empty space with the sounds of an exotic language floating through her brain.

  “You bring your slave to us, Logan, but keep her locked in shackles,” the mocking voice of Ramon suddenly roused the drowsy Jill from her stupor. Her eyes shot open, only to find that the entire company of eight men was staring at her. Her protective shroud had fallen away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. It did not escape her that Ramon spoke in his flawless English to capture her wandering attention.

  Logan’s gaze moved from Jill to the table of men and back to the wide-eyed slave. “Her master’s only instruction is that her pussy not be violated,” Logan told his friends. “Have at her ass and mouth. I think by now, she needs to be used hard. Wipe out what little edge remains in her unruly spirit.” He tossed the keys to her shackles on the table, which were quickly picked up by one hulking brute, who took off to claim the prize. A suave Mexican stud followed the brute to the corner, where the two removed Jill’s shackles and pulled the dreamy slave to the table.

  One man rubbed her pussy with an evil sneer. “What your master won’t know, bitch, huh?” he lustily purred in her ear, although his voice was loud enough for Logan to hear.

  “Her ass, Rico, her ass,” the bounty hunter reminded him in a voice of authority.

  “We have her ass all prepared for you,” Ramon added.

  “Elena, come!” Another man barked the command in the direction of the kitchen. Moments later, a blushing Senorita flew barefoot into the dining room.

  “Chica, lick the pretty white ass for me, por favor.”

  The rosy-cheeked waif immediately sank to her knees at Jill’s backside, where in the meantime she had been forced over the end of the table and her legs parted wide. She actually welcomed the change in position, and her face rested against the hard wood table, her breathing even and relaxed. The girl parted Jill’s her ass cheeks with a woman’s gentleness, and leaning in
close, began the final preparations for the ultimate assault, laving the rosy bud of her anus, coaxing the opening to give way. Each tender lap of the girl’s tongue allowed another layer of Jill’s reluctance to fall away. In time, involuntarily, her ass eagerly pushed back, lewdly writhing against the girl’s face and her pent sexuality exploded on the delicate tongue of the sweet senorita.

  “Hummm, yesssss.” The natural sounds of Jill’s satisfaction lit the air with arousal potent enough to sweep the room, and the girl purred back, as if the slave’s encouraging sounds pleased her.

  The men hovered like vultures over the pair, some rubbing their crotches in expectation, some grasping at Jill’s tits, which were squashed against the table. Impatient, they forced her torso off the table so she could use her mouth to satisfy their immediate hunger. In an unthinkingly stupor, the slave worked two erections, moving back and forth from cock to cock with her tongue lapping, her head bobbing up and down as the thick meat forced its way into her throat. She almost forgot the girl at her behind and how her skilled tongue was making her ass seem to beg for cock.

  Without warning, Jill’s body suddenly jolted hard, as the rough, hairy body of a man replaced the gentle, soothing senorita. The well worked backdoor opened with little effort, accepting the crude impalement willingly, lusting for the rough fuck to follow. Denied the satisfaction of her pussy, her sexual desire centered in her ass. After so much waiting, so much preparation, it didn’t matter how hard a thick erection reamed her insides, her body screamed for the wildness unleashed. Not since the morning ritual at the pleasure fair had she felt so free, anonymously free, as if she could ride on these angry serpents through every wave of physical pleasure, and go deep to the heart of herself where her nasty passions lay waiting for expression.

  The masculine bodies came at her, sometimes twice, once for her mouth, then again for her ass, in a gangbang of bodies that rocked the creaky table beneath her. They mauled her flesh until it seemed as if she would be bruised all over: tits, ass, hips, lips, while the feeling of pain only made her reflexively squeeze a little harder, her anal muscles tightening down on the male organ with a vice like grip. Her hardworking mouth sucked until her jaw ached and her throat was parched from the copious cum.

  In her imagination, she became the white slave taken in a South-Of-The-Border porno flick scene of vigorous copulation, with lovers celebrating the rare thrill in finding a woman horny enough to use and use again. Even their own sex slaves didn’t have the endurance of this woman. The little bitch was all about sex, as all the men in the hacienda took their turn, and she satisfied every man in the hacienda, save one. The only one she really wanted to satisfy.

  Eventually, the satiated men put their spent cocks away and drifted into the cool evening air outside. Jill kept fucking until the last of them came in her ass, bellowing for joy, and Ramon and Logan were the only men left.

  Then Logan watched from the sidelines as his friend fucked the runaway’s tight ass until he came in her with an aptly brutal finish.

  “Amazing!” Ramon sighed heavily. “Oh, man, your randy bitch is as good at the last as she was at the start!” He pulled from Jill’s taut hole and wiped his dwindling erection on a handkerchief. “And now, mi amigo, your slave awaits you,” he said, as he returned his cock to his pants.

  Half-cognizant, the slave turned her head, seeing Logan for the first time since the gangbang began. He looked at her oddly as he moved toward the table.

  “My slave has had enough for one night,” he announced.

  “Not even one go at your slave’s sweet ass?”

  “She’s had enough. Too much pleasure and you spoil them. Besides, Susanna’s waiting for me, warming her bed.”

  “Si,” Ramon snorted. “I’ll bet her legs are spread and her pussy’s wet for you. But you should tie her down and beat her first, before she gets to uppity. She pines for her gringo, waits in hope that you’ll marry her.”

  Logan smiled strangely, as if he actually would consider that.

  Taking in this conversation, a terrible anguished pang ripped through Jill’s languid spirit.

  “Not even a warm-up on the bitch’s mouth?” Ramon tried again. “She’s got the talent.”

  “No. I worry that I’ve given her too much as it is,” he said, staring down at Jill’s placid face. “How about handing me the shackles?”

  While Logan cuffed her wrists again, Ramon secured her ankles in the bands and chains.

  The locks secure, Logan coldly coaxed her to her feet. “Come on, get up.” He tugged her by the hand, forcing her to rise.

  Jill’s mind was incapable of thinking, and while her reactions weren’t swift, she willing pulled herself off the table, chains dragging against the wood, until she stood at last. She worried that her weak legs would crumple beneath her, but she managed to pad along behind the bounty hunter. They moved from the dining room, down a corridor and across the open air courtyard to a far corner of the hacienda. Inside a tiny alcove lit only by the moonlight and stars was a bed of straw and a post embedded solidly in the dense mud-packed ground. From the bottom to the top of the heavy wooden column were thick immovable eyebolts. “This should hold you for the night,” he said as he attached her wrist and ankle shackles to the bolts and secured the locks. There was plenty of room for her sit or lie on the straw. But there was little comfort in this new prison, especially when she knew that there were thick mattresses and the warm bodies of sleeping Mexicans to snuggle against in the rooms surrounding the courtyard. Even more painful to bear was knowing that Logan was about to leave her for Susanna.

  “What if I have to pee?” she asked in a plaintive voice, while glancing up at his impassive face.

  “Use the corner. I’ll hose you off in the morning.”

  “But, I’m so hungry,” she tried again for a little mercy.

  He snickered, laughing condescendingly. “Oh, I think you can survive until morning.”

  “Logan, please!” She looked at him pleadingly, while he stared down at her unmoved.

  “I’ve made my point, Jillian Ingalls. I’ve never been wrong about women like you; which makes my job so much easier, so much more fun. Someday you’ll look back and thank me for having the balls to yank you back where your sorry slave ass belongs. Enjoy your night; I plan to enjoy mine.”

  His judgment cut through the fog in her mind, and traveled straight to her belly, where the emotions of shame and humiliation replaced the sensation of physical joy that for a time seemed like the only thing that mattered.

  What mattered now, in the long hours of her uncomfortable night was that Logan Dunn had seen her in the glory of her debasement with those men, that Logan Dunn knew how much that woman in the center of the gangbang was truly her, and that Logan Dunn looked down with scorn on the slave-whore she’d revealed herself to be. He’d arranged it, witnessed it and reviled it at the same time, leaving her with little but self-loathing to chew on for her evening meal.

  

  For the rest of the night, until nearly dawn, Logan made love to his sexy senorita, Susanna, letting his kinky lusts take a back seat to the vanilla screwing of a lush beauty. The young lovely should have been tied down as Ramon suggested, since it would be in Susanna’s nature to submit. But it would require a bitter fight, and occasionally Logan liked the purity of sex untainted by the crudity of bondage, whips and suffering submission. He wanted a woman with permission to move on him as aggressively as he moved on her—as if she actually believed they were equals.

  Too bad that he didn’t like it enough to give up the evil occupation of trapping runaway slaves. He might have married the willing senorita and remained happily between her fresh pulsating thighs, content to turn her moist crotch into his cock’s pleasure palace. But pretty as she was, inviting as her persuasive invitation, nothing could replace the intoxicating power of his profession, and the utter joy in redeeming good slaves who’d lost their way. He knew that somewhere, sometime, one of those slaves would draw him in
for good, and he would retire from his hard work forever soothed by a good slut’s perverted desire. It was only a matter of time. But not yet.

  Chapter Eleven - To Maryland

  “You leave us so soon,” Ramon sadly stated as he watched Logan load his backpack into the back of the truck. The senorita, Susanna, hung on the sidelines, in tears.

  “I would stay, but I have to get the runaway back to her master,” he told his friend.

  “Ah, but you could change your mind. She’s prime for the brothels, or would make a good house slave for my hacienda. And when we tire of her, I know of a dozen haciendas in this valley and the next who would take her, at least until she’s used up. As slave flesh goes, the pretty white woman with an insatiable body always brings a good price. You could retire off your cut of the earnings. What do you think?”

  Jill waited too, still naked, still shackled, standing barefoot just a yard away from the bounty hunter and his friend, listening in stunned silence while they discussed her sexual merits as if she were no more than an animal available to buy or trade.

  “Appealing offer,” Logan said, letting the terms run through his mind for a good sixty seconds. He stared at the recovered property and then at Ramon.

  “You could have her too, any time you want her for yourself,” Ramon added the incentive. “Unless you’re too busy with Susanna.”

  The young woman watching, blushed. “He wouldn’t want her,” she chimed in defiantly. She held her head haughtily, sneering at the naked Jill, then moved on her lover, batting her lashes coquettishly, sidling up against Logan’s body. Sensuously snaking her hands over his back and chest like Eve’s serpent, she purred something in his ear that no one could hear but Logan. He leaned down to listen like an indulgent lover, and smiling turned for a long sloppy wet kiss on the mouth. Then he gently pushed her off, saying kindly, “Go away now, cara.”