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Thursday, 30 January 2014

The Marshal Page 15

Page 15
Another hand was fucking Bradburn, who'd been forced down onto his belly. He was slamming into him with brute force, eager to exhibit his stamina and virility to his peers. Bradburn had lost count of how many cocks had been drivien into him. He'd let go, let his body take over and he was adrift in a sea of pain and lust. Suddenly a scream cut through the noise of the drunken chatter and laughter.

"I can't boss... you're killin' AAAHHH."
"All the way in you little bastard," Viking grated and began to drive into Walt ruthlessly. The cowboy's cries gradually turned to moans that had not much to do with pain.
"Last time I fucked you, you were too drunk to notice. Not this time though Eh?"

                                                                         Chapter 17

Jose waited impatiently while Sanchez and his father washed and changed. Then when they were seated for dinner he told them about his unease.
"If Abe didn't go to Twin Pines, where is he," Jose asked.
"There's the telegram," said his father.
"Anyone can send a telegram Papa," Sanchez observed.
"Yes and where is Corky," Jose asked? Then he recalled the look of hatred that Corky had given Abe.
"It's something to do with Corky, I'm sure...Corky and.... Oh My God."
"What," both his father and Sanchez asked at the same time?
"Viking. Its Viking and Corky."
"Yes, Abe was seen heading out alone northeast," Sanchez reasoned. "Towards the Dayton ranch."
"I must get there at once, God knows what they are doing to him." Jose leapt up from the table.
"Its no good rushing out there in the dark. Sit down and eat your dinner." Sanchez said. The moon will be up a couple of hours before dawn. We'll go then"
"You will come with me?"
"Of course little brother."

The moon was fading and the sky lightening when the brothers reached Daytons, an hour before dawn. They sat watching the moonlit ranch and could detect no signs of movement or evidence of guards. Leaving their horses in the shade of a clump of trees, they moved cautiously forward until they were only some fifty yards from the barns and corral. Again they stopped and Sanchez whispered,
"Its strange there are no guards after the Indian raids we've been having."
"But there's a light in the big barn," Jose replied and Sanchez noticed, for the first time, the thin crack of light escaping between the doors. "And look, there's two horses harnessed to a cart."
"What the hell are they playing at?"
Suddenly there was the sound of a heavy bolt being pulled back and both men froze. Slowly the barn doors swung open.
"Down," Sanchez hissed, dropping to the ground and pulling his brother down with him. A ruggedly good-looking man emerged, the lantern swinging from his right hand throwing into sharp relief the big glans jutting against his threadbare levis. Then Viking and Corky emerged carrying Bradburn, naked and bound hand and foot. Jose reared up and Sanchez, who was still holding his brother's arm,
tightened his grip.
"Keep down Jose. We don't want to wake the whole ranch. Jose sank back and Sanchez could feel him trembling like a wild animal poised for flight. Bradburn was swung into the cart like a sack of grain and covered with sacking. Viking and Corky climbed aboard and, as the cart trundled slowly away, Viking shouted over his shoulder,
"Hit the sack for another couple of hours Walt, and you'll feel better."
"Yeah but it won't do much for my sore ass," the cowboy called back and Corky gave a snort of laughter. Walt walked back across the corral and the brothers watched the cart move slowly away and turn onto the western trail.
"Come on," Sanchez whispered and leaping to his feet, sprinted back to the horses.
"Where are we going," Jose asked?
"North into those hills."
"Trust me, come on, little brother."

They rode north for about ten minutes then picked their way along a very rough track heading west along the ridge of the hills. As the sky lightened they made better speed and at last reached the brow of the last hill, overlooking the desert. Below them the trail emerged from the hills and ran, straight as an arrow, out across the sea of red sand and cactus.
"We're in time, come on Jose, let's get down there and prepare a surprise for them."

They heard the creak of the cart and stepped out of the rocks on each side of the trail as it drew level, guns drawn.
"Stop," Sanchez yelled, his gun levelled at Viking's head.
"What the fuck is this," Viking shouted belligerently, but reined-in the horses?
"Hands up high and step down."
"Sure Mister, but go easy with that gun," Viking replied in a more conciliatory tone. He rose from the driving seat and then, without warning, flung himself down on to Sanchez. The two men crashed to the ground and the gun went off. Jose eyes flicked away from Corky for a second which was all the time he needed. He kicked the gun levelled at him out of Jose's hand and sprung at him. Sanchez was a big strong man, useful with his fists, but was outclassed by Viking and was soon taking a beating. Jose and Corky traded punches before two hard crosses had the red-headed man reeling. Then Jose threw a haymaker and Corky dodged it, more by luck than judgement, and seeing a chance, brought his knee up hard into Jose's balls.
"Got yah, you bastard," Corky snarled and, as Jose bucked forward, smashed his fist into his mouth. Jose went down hard onto his back and Corky staggered towards the cart. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Jose saw Corky reaching for the shotgun hanging in it's long holster. He rolled onto his side and reached back for his throwing knife. The blade thudded into Corky's back and he grunted, dropped to his knees, then pitched forward onto his face. Jose scrambled to his feet, snatched up the shotgun, and lurched around the cart.Viking straddled Sanchez, pinning him down with his knees as he raised his fist. Jose transferred his grip to the barrel of the shotgun and swung it at Viking's head. The butt struck the blond head with a loud crack and Viking fell forward onto Sanchez, senseless.

Jose dragged the limp body off his brother and helped him to his feet. The two brothers clung to each other for a moment, then Jose said,
"Can yuou see to Corky, I think I've killed him. Sanchez pulled the knife out of Corky's shoulder and rolled him over.
"He'll be okay, Jose. its only a shoulder wound. But he's losing a lot of blood. I'd best get him back to the ranch. You be okay here?"
"Yes," he replied, climbing into the cart. He pulled the sacking away and the naked, bound Marshal sat up.
"Thank God you are okay," Jose said, drawing Bradburn into his arms. The Marshal groaned,
"Hey, Jose, get this fucking badge out of my tit and untie me before you crush the life out of me."

"My God, you've taken a beating Abe ," Jose said when they finally released each other.
"Yeah, but I'll live. Come on let's get that blond bastard stripped and tied up."
"Sure, you might like me walking around bollock-naked but a lot of folk don't take to it lightly."
"Sorry I'm being dumb," Jose said as Bradburn rolled Viking over onto his back and started to ease
off his boots. Jose stripped off Viking's shirt and chaps then sat back on his haunches and stared at the heavily muscled torso and the enormous bulge in the guy's pants.
"He might be an evil bastard but at least he's clean," Bradburn said as he peeled off Viking's hose. "Now stop gawping and help me get his levis off."

Bradburn stared at the massive cock, thick and tumescent, lying across Viking's hairy belly and felt his own dick hardening. He turned and, seeing that Jose was staring open-mouthed he snapped,
"Get the fucking rope, come on Jose, move it, he's coming round."
"Oh Yes, sorry." As they tied Viking's ankles and lashed his wrists together behind him, Bradburn said.

Sunday, 26 January 2014

The Marshal Page 14

Page 14

Viking swung the buckle and Bradburn began to grunt and sob. His balls grew dark red and started to turn purple before Bradburn threw back his head, gave a strangled cry and exploded. Spunk flew yards across the barn and spattered Viking's face and chest.
"Quite a performance, Marshal, sir," Viking mocked as he unroped the naked man sagging against the post. Bradburn dropped to his knees, head bowed.
"Now, Submit," Viking hissed. The Marshal nodded.
"Say it, you bastard," Viking yelled, "Say I submit Sir."
Bradburn lifted his head and whispered,
"I submit, Sir."
"Louder, come on, let's all hear it."
"I submit Sir," Bradburn yelled.
"That's better," Viking crowed, pulling out his straining cock with shaking hands.
"Come here, you fairy and suck my cock. Crawl."
Bradburn had to stretch his mouth wide to take the huge glans and felt his jaw crack. His mouth was flooded with a glorious salty taste and he eagerly pressed forward until be began to gag. Viking grabbed his ears and driving his massive cock deep into Bradburn's throat, pulled his head forward until the Marshal's nose was buried in his public hair. Viking savoured the moment then drew back to let the gagging man get his breath before he began to face fuck him. He was very close and after barely a minute of brutal thrusting he exploded, withdrawing a little so that he could fill Bradburn's mouth with his thick spunk. Only when his last spasm had died did he release his head and withdraw. Then he looked down at the big muscular man kneeling before him. Bradburn raised his head and Viking saw the spunk oozing from the sides of his mouth, matting his black beard and dripping onto his hairy chest. Viking was exultant, he had broken the man he'd hated and yet so desired.
"Now you cock-sucking pansy, here's another first, lick my boots.

                                                                Chapter 15

Jose rode into Tyler and hitched his horse near the Jailhouse. He spotted the notice in the window and, mounting the steps, read

Marshal and Deputy out of town on duty. Enquiries to Virgil Makepeace at the Mercantile.

Strange he thought and headed across the street to the Mercantile.
"Mr Makepeace's in back, in his office," the young assistant said, and Jose made his way between the sacks and boxes to the rear of the shop. The office door was ajar and Jose tapped on the frosted glass before he peered in.
"Come in my boy," Virgil called as he rose from his desk. "What can I do for you?"
Makepeace was a small man with a huge moustache and sidewhiskers.
"I was kind of looking for the Marshal."
"Ain't here boy, gone down to Twin Pines with the Deputy."
"I find that kind of strange Sir."
"Nothing strange about it. See here's the telegram." Jose read the yellow form and handed it back to Virgil.
"If there's nothing I can do for you boy, I'll wish you good day."
Oh, sure sir, good day and thank you," Jose said and walked out through the cluttered shop. He stood for a moment, feeling puzzled and a little uneasy, in the bright sunshine then headed across the street to the saloon. Buying a beer, he stood at the bar, trying to reason out why he felt so uneasy. Two beers later, he was just deciding to leave when the big hairy guy, called Ben, pushed through the doors. His face lit up when he saw Jose and he walked over.
"Hi Chico, how's things?"
"Fine Ben, want a beer?"
"Sure. The family's away, if you wanna come back?"
"That would be great, but another time, okay?"
"Fine. What're you doin' in  town?"
"I came looking for Marshal."
"Down at Twin Pines, so they say."
"Did you see them leave?"
"That's strange Chico, I saw only the Marshal leave, real early yesterday morning."
"Was he heading out towards Twin Pines?"
"That's strange too, Chico, he was headin' out of the north east trail."
They drank their beer and Jose, excusing himself, left the saloon.

Jose headed home, eager to talk to Sanchez. Was he behaving like some love-sick kid? His brother would know what to do.  He rode into the corral, handed his horse to one of the hands and hurried into the house.
"They're not here Jose," his mother said. "Your father and Sanchez are driving some cattle down to Red Butte."
"When did they say they'd be back, Mama?"
"Papa said not to expect them back until after dark."

                                                                Chapter 16

Viking had set up tables of food and booze beside the corral. The hands had now been drinking for an hour or more and he judged them to be just about ready for his treat. He grinned to himself as he made for the barn. He pulled open the doors and led Bradburn out into the corral by his roped balls like a prize bull. The hands stared in silence and Viking was beginning to wonder if he'd misjudged the moment, when Walt yelled,
"Jeez, would you just look at that ass, boys." There were a couple of whistles and another voice piped up,
"Why Walt, reckon you've got enough pecker to give it what it deserves?" There was an explosion of laughter and cheering, and in the din, Walt's reply was inauduble but his grabbing his cock through his levis was answer enough. When the hubbub had died down, Viking bawled,
"Where do you want the faggot, Walt?"
"Tie his wrists to the lower bar of the fence, Boss."
Walt licked his lips as he looked at the big man bent over with his legs kicked wide apart and his big balls swinging between his hairy thighs. Just how I like 'em he thought as he eased out his cock.
"Come on Walt, give it to him." a hand yelled and Viking watched the men, flushed and bright-eyed, as they all cheered. Most were aroused and he smiled as he looked at the straining cocks. This was going to be some party. Walt gave Bradburn a good hard fuck and when he pulled out and swaggered up to Viking his still hard cock bobbing in front of him, another cowboy took his place. Viking handed him a very large rye.
"Jeez boss, that was great. The faggot was pushing back to meet me. Must give him another one."
"Why not, we've got all night.. But let the other guys have a go first," Viking replied and grabbing Walt's cock pumped it a couple of times.The half-drunk cowboy's eyes widened with surprise and his mouth dropped open as Viking's other hand grabbed his ass.
"Let's go to the barn Walt, I'll bring the bottle."
"Not so sure Boss, this ain't really my thing," Walt said as Viking put an arm around his shoulders and led his away.

Wednesday, 22 January 2014

The Marshal Page 13

page 13
Viking walked around to the back of the barn, with Corky beside him, and stopped in front of Walt. He look at the pile of oiled tackle then at the damp patches on the dandy ground and said,
"Seems you've been doin' more wankin' than work, you horny bastard."
"Sorry boss, but by the way you was sortin' out that arrogant son-of-a-bitch in there, I couldn't help it."
Viking looked down at Walt's ever ready cock and smiled to himself. It was high time he gave the bastard another plugging. But this time he'd make sure he was sober.
"Okay Walt, there's a hell of a lot to do on the ranch today. But I want you to stay here."
"But won't you need.."
"No Walt, I want you to keep an eye on the Marshal in there." Walt's eyes lit up.
"Oh sure boss."
"Cut him down, clean him up a bit and give him something to eat. Pull or suck him off if'n you want, but I don't want him fucked understood? If he's still dribblin' spunk when I get back tonight I'll horse-
whip you." Walt nodded. "And see he's hog-tied."

                                                                   Chapter 14

Bradburn lay on his side, his wrists tied behind his back and roped to his ankles. The ranch hands had returned about two hours ago and he'd heard them going to the chuck house.It was pitch black in the barn and he was cold and stiff.  Suddenly he heard a soft footfall and, craning his neck, saw Viking enter the barn carrying lamp. He bent down and untied Bradburn's ankles. "Okay, on your feet mister." The Marshal climbed painfully to his feet and winced as coarse rope was wrapped around his cock and balls, and knotted tightly.He began to pound tro full erection and grunted as he was yanked roughly by his balls to the barn door. Viking led him into the small foreman's cabin and putting down the lamp, bolted the door. He turned and looked at his big bearded captive, naked but for his boots. Bradburn stood, legs wide braced, arms tied behind him, his huge roped cock jutting out and the big glans gleaming in the lamplight. Viking snatched up some rope and. grabbing Bradburn by the shoulders, shoved him down onto the bed. He roped the Marshal's neck to the bedstead, effectively immobilising him while he undid his wrists, and then also secured them to the brassd rails. Finally he removed the rope from Bradburn's throat and began to strip off his clothes with trembling fingers. He'd had a score of men tied to his bed like this but none had inflamed his lust like this tough bastard. He looked at his big, hard sculpted buttocks and the deep hairy crack and groaned inwardly.

Bradburn bit into the pillow in despair. His body, thrumming with excitement and almost aching for the blond cowboy's touch, would not be denied. Viking lowered his body onto him and he stifled a moan, then felt the cock, like a huge iron bare, press against his sphincter. His ring flared open and his ass rose up to meet the excruciating lunge of entry. He gave loud grunt as Viking slammed in, then felt the big balls pressed against his buttocks.
"Christ you horny faggot," Viking whispered in his ear before he drew back.
"Now my little filly, I'm gonna give you the ride of your life."

Laying in Walt's hairy arms, Corky could hear, faintly, the animal grunts coming from the foreman's cabin.  He felt himself hardening and, reaching back, grabbed the sleeping cowboy's lovely cock. Walt was awake in an instant.
"Come on cowboy, we ain't even started yet." Walt chuckled,
"I sure as hell like a guy who can't git enough."

Bradburn woke to find himself hog-tied and lying on the barn floor again. From the light pouring in he guessed the sun had been up for some time. He only had a faint recollection of being brought back to the barn but he'd never forget the night that had passed. Viking had fucked him relentlessly and he'd lost count of the times that he'd fired his load.He'd been hauled into different positions and the mattress had become sodden with their spunk and sweat. And still the ficking had continued, hard and remoreless. Bradburn had lost all sense of time and had floated in a sea of ecstasy until sleep and total exhaustion has finally claimed them both.

Viking marched into the chuck house, where the ranch hands were sitting at the rough wooden tables, finishing the breakfast. They all looked up with surprise and someone muttered,
"Jeez its a fucking wonder he can still stand."
A couple of men sniggered and Viking, ignoring them, helped himself to a pile of ham and eggs. Spotting Corky, sitting alone with Walt, he dropped his plate onto their table and sat on the bench opposite them. He shovelled food into his mouth for a few minutes, then, looking up, saw the expression on Corky's face.
"If'n you're gonna say what I think you're gonna say, shutup."
"Aw relax Viking, I was only gonna say you look real good. Sex sure agrees with you."
"Thought you'd have noticed that before, of all people. Now shut up and eat your breakfast."
They sat in silence and, pushing his empty plate aside, Viking got himself some coffee. He didn't rejoin them  but standing in the middle of the room shouted,
"Okay, men, listen up."
Seeing he'd got their attention he continued,
"Today's gonna be a bit special. I want you all back at the ranch an hour sfter noon.I sent Dave down to Tyler for a wagonload of booze. We're gonna have us a party."
Waiting for the loud cheers to die down, Viking yelled again,
"And I've got a real treat lined up for you. So git y'r asses out there and earn it."
The laughing hands began to leave and Walt, with Corky beside him, also made for the door. Viking looked at the horny cowboy's tight, beautifully rounded ass and smiled to himself.

Viking's boot thudded into Bradburn's side , and he yelled,"On your feet asshole." Then he grabbed the rope, still knotted around the Marshal's balls, dragged him across the barn, and tied him to a post. He found the iron rod again and, spreading Bradburn's legs wide apart, roped his ankles to it. Sripping off his shirt, he took up Bradburn'a heavy, studded belt, which he'd cast aside, and once more wrapped it around his fist as he stood before the Marshal.
"Ready to submit?"
"You will," Viking snarled and swung the belt at the big roped balls. Bradburn's body jerked against his bonds and he gave a yell of pain and surprise. "You bastard," he gasped, then his body twitched
and jerked as Viking lashed his balls. He grunts became louder and after a dozen blows Viking stopped.
"They're coming on nicely," he sneered. "A guy shouldn't wear a buckle his big Marshal, unless he's man enough to take it."
For a second Bradburn's brow creased in puzzlement, then his eyes widened as Viking's intent became clear.
"Christ, No, Ohlson, please.."
"No so arrogant now. are we Marshal," Viking smirked, rewinding the belt around his fist, this time with the big buckle hanging free. Bradburn stared at the belt, and when he raised his eyes, Viking saw the first trace of fear in them.
"I can see you know what's coming. You can submit and save yourself a lot of pain or show me what a big tough man you are."
"You're still all mouth Ohlson," Bradburn snarled. Then Viking saw the fear in the Marshal's eyes had gone, and they now gleamed with excitement.
"Do it. Finish me, you fucking bastard."

Saturday, 18 January 2014

The Marshal Page 12

page 12
thought about it, whether it was this or the pain that made him scream. He only knew that the excitement could no longer be denied and he grit his teeth in a vain attempt to stifle his cries as he was flogged, hard and remorselessly. Walt listened to the crack of the whip and the yells of the big butch Marshal and, with a curse, reached for his cock.

                                                                Chapter 12

Stripped to the waist and sweating, Jose mucked out the last stall. Abe had said he'd be out here at noon. It was long past that now and the empty ache that he always got in the pit of his stomach when he was going to see Bradburn in the barn, had gotten worse. Sanchez appeared at the doorway,
"Want a hand, little brother?"
"Thanks no, I've just about finished."
Sanchez waited while Jose put up the rake and donned his shirt. Then the two brothers strolled across the corral towards the homestead.
"I expected Abe a couple of hours ago. Guess something turned up."
"He's in an unpredictable profession, Jose, you know that."
"Sure, I know that, and also a dangerous one."
"He's a big tough man, he can take care of himself."
"Yes, I guess so. But if Papa can spare me, I going to ride into Tyler tomorrow afternoon."

                                                             Chapter 13

Viking had got his blood. It made fine filigree patterns as it oozed from the welts and into the deep channel made by the thick slabs of muscle either side of Bradburn's spine. Then it trickled down, through the hairy crack between the Marshal's lashed buttocks and dripped onto the rough stone flags.
Viking had dished out plenty of floggings but none so hard and sustained as this. Bradburn had bucked, writhed and yipped but had made no pleas for mercy. Viking felt a grudging respect as he wondered just how much more it would take to whip this tough bastard senseless.In any event it would mean cutting Bradburn very badly and that would not do if he was to get his gold and be rid of the son-of-bitch. Reluctantly he lowered the whip and Corky shouted,
"Come on finish the bastard."
Viking tossed the whip onto a bench and strode across to the stove,
"He's taken enough for now. I want him to be able to appreciate this," he said, taking up the branding iron and walking round to face Bradburn. He held it up inches from the Marshal's head,
"Ready to suck cock and lick my boots, or do I have to give you this mister Marshal sir?"
Bradburn could feel the heat of the red-hop iron on his face but his dark eyes held Viking's unwaveringly.
"Fuck off," he sneered.
"Tut, tut, mind your manners," Viking mocked as he sauntered round behind the naked, spreadeagled
man and held the iron an inch from the Marshal's hairy right buttock.
"Are you deaf, you dumb Swedish asshole, I said fuck off," Bradburn shouted, his voice hoarse with excitement. There was a loud hiss and the Marshal's body went rigid as the iron was pressed against his ass. He made a strangled sound, then went limp as it was withdrawn, leaving a brand, some four inches square.
""Now that's real pretty," Viking laughed, looking at the 'D ' superimposed on a 'Y' which was the Dayton mark. He put the brand carefully back in the corner before strutting around to face Bradburn.
"What have you got to say for yourself now, Marshal?" Bradburn lifted his pale tear-streaked face but said nothing. Flogged and branded the big tough man was broken, Viking thought, but he don't know it yet. He looked down at the huge drooling cock and smirked as he unbuttoned his fly. And now it was time to show him.
"That's a nice big piece of meat you've got there Marshal, but it ain't got nothin' on this, EH"
Bradburn had seen the bulge in  the blond cowboy's pants enough times to know he was well hung but the actuality made him gape. Hard, cut and thick, it must be nearly twelve inches, he reckoned, as he watched Viking ease out a pair of balls, equally awesome.
"That's right Marshal, get a good look at what you've got coming," Viking sneered, savouring the look of naked fear on Bradburn's face.

Corky watched Viking pump his cock a couple of times before he prised open Bradburn's whipped buttocks,
"Christ Viking, you're not gonna take 'im dry? You'll kill him."
"No I won't, anyways, I think this is what this sick bastard's been wanting for years, eh Marshal?"
Viking pressed his enourmous glans against the tight little virgin sphincter. Bradburn began to sweat  and he tried to loosen his ass muscles, knowing instinctively, that he had to make the entry as easy possible, or face serious injury. But his body, with a conscience of it's own, was doing just that and he was aware of an ache of delicious anticipation. He felt rough hands grip his hips and he was yanked back as Viking made a mighty thrust forward. Bradburn screamed as the glans burst through his tight ring of muscle and half the thick shaft bored up into him. The pain was excruciating and as he felt Viking shunt back he sobbed,
"No, for Christ's sake, stop,  please.. you're...! In answer, Viking lunged again, even harder, driving his cock in, up to his balls and Bradburn screamed again.
"Got yah, Marshal," Viking growled and he pulled back and began to fuck Bradburn, his strokes long and deep. The stabs of pain merged with the glorious sensation welling up from his battered prostate
and he threw back his head and grunted in unison with Viking's powerful thrusts. Viking felt Bradburn pushing back to meet him and he fucked even harder. Corky watching the two big sweating men in awe, noticed Bradburn's grunts growing sharper and louder and his big cock begin to twitch. Suddenly he yelled and started firing thick gouts of spunk and a moment later Viking roared as he too exploded.

Viking clung to Bradburn until the last of his spasms had passed, then he pulled out roughly and turned to Corky with a grin on his flushed face,
"Okay, let's see what you can do." Corky walked around to face Bradburn and pulled out his cock, gloating,
"I should have strung you up and given you this ages ago, you big-balled bastard."
"Go to hell you traitorous little snake."
"Still mouthin' off," ain't he" Corky said to Viking.
"Don't worry, I'll knock that out of him tomorrow. Now fuck him, it you're going to."
"Sure, take it easy will yah."
"Listen Corky, I've got a ranch to run remember?"
"Okay, okay," Corky replied and, movng behind Bradburn, saw the spunk oozing out of his ass.  He positioned himself and pushed. Bradburn was still tight but well lubed now and Corky slid in smoothly.
"Oh Boy, that's good," he murmured and started to fuck, with short fast thrusts that Bradburn found very painful. He grit his teeth and kept his body rigid, not wanting to give Corky the pleasure of knowing. Luckily the red-headed Deputy was very excited and Bradburn did not have to endure the discomfort for more than a minute or so, before Corky came.

Thursday, 16 January 2014

The Marshal Page 11

Page 11
                                                            Chapter 10

As the office boy carefully glued the flimsy tapes of paper, carrying the messasges to the yellow forms, the telegraph began to chatter briefly. He went to the machine and saw that a message was coming in from Twin Pines, a town some fifty miles east, addressed to Virgil Makepeace at the Mercantile. It was very short and read


Makepeace was a rich and infuential man and assigned to take over law enforcement in such a
contingency as this. The boy left the other messages, stuck the tape to a form and, putting it into  ayellow envelope, hurried to the Mercantile.

                                                         Chapter 11

"Don't see that's any of your business, Walt." Viking said with a faint smile. "Git back to work, you can see all you want tomorrow when we've finished with him.
"Ahh come on boss, I jist want t o see his pecker, then I'll go." Corky grinned, he'd taken a liking to this very sexy  man.
"Come on Viking, what's the harm? Let him stay."
"He can stay while I strip the bastard, but after that I want him out to keep an eye on the hands, I don't want them all piling in when things start gittin' noisy. Understood Walt?"
"Sure  Boss."
Viking turned back to Bradburn and, opening the waistband of his levis, yanked them open to the crutch, sending buttons flying, and revealing the base of his cock. He dropped to one knee and, as the other two men moved closer to watch, tugged the levis down Bradburn's hairy thighs. Freed from it's confines the huge rigid cock sprang up and slapped the Marshal's hairy belly. Walt whistled. It was not only beautifully shaped, immensely thick and deeply flanged. It was gleaming with sweat and the big shiny glans oozed precum. As Walt stared, Viking took his knife from his belt and ripped and cut the tough denim from Bradburn's legs before flinging the torn levis into a corner. Hoping that he'd been forgotten, Walt stood quietly, as Viking rummaged among the branding irons, stakes and odd bits of farm implements. He pulled free a metal rod, some six feet long, the use for which was no longer known, and, yanking wide Bradburn's legs, roped his booted ankles to it. Walt felt his guts twist with lust as he looked at the spreadeagled Marshal, naked except for his boots and the big metal star, pinned to his bloody right nipple. Bearded, hard, hairy and muscular, he stood defiantly, his big drooling cock jutting out impressively. They all gawped in silence for a very long moment before Viking turned to Walt,"
Okay mister, you've had yer look, now git."
With a sigh, Walt turned to go. He pushed the barn doors to and dropped the latch before walking to the back of the barn and sitting again on his log. He picked up a piece of dirty tackle, looked at it for a moment, then, with a groan, tossed it back onto the tangled pile. Careful not to tear the paper thin denim, he unbuttoned his fly and eased out his hard cock.

"Now you're gonnas git the whippin' you've been asking for," Viking sneered, waving the heavy bullwhip on Bradburh's nose.
"Mouthing off again, you bastard, get on with it," the Marshal snarled, as his body began to shake. He knew now with utter certainty that this was what he'd always wanted. But what he was not sure of was if he could take it? Viking made no reply but brought the whip down hard scross the rippling muscular back. Bradburn gasped as a line of fire was drawn over his shoulders, then groaned as another burned across his ass. Excitement surged up, fever hot, as the lash bit into his back even harder and he groaned again.The pain was exquisite and he knew that he could take it, savour it, if he could keep a rein on the blazing excitement.

Viking swung the ther wehip hard, cutting fiery lines, diagonally, down Bradburn's back and across his hairy buttocks. Lust and excitement surged through him too, and as the Marshal began to grunt and buck, he was tempted to lash even harder. But he knew that the bullwhip could cut the flesh from Bradburn's backbone. The Mexicans would not take a badly maimed slave and his plan to deliver Bradburn into bondage and a life on pain and degradation would fail. He hardened his resolve, he'd get bis blood eventually.

Corky stood relishing the expression on Bradburn's pain etched face but when his head dropped back between his outstretched arms he moved around to watch the whip lashing his muscular back.
"Come on, give it to the bastard," he yelled and Viking lowered the whip.
"Why don't you make yourself useful."
"There's a stove over yonder and some kindlin'," Viking said, massaging his right biceps. Corky looked perplexed.
"Why, it ain't cold?"
"Light it bonehead, then look in that corner for a nice iron." Corky's face brightened,
"Jeez, you mean you're gonna...?"
"Yeah,"Viking replied and strode across to a cluttered shelf and lifted a small stone flagon by it's ring handle. Supporting it on his raised forearm he took a couple of swigs of the fiery spirit as Corky got the small iron stove lit.  He took another swig and Corky called from the corner, holding up an iron,
"How about this 'n?"
"I guess it'll do, put it in the heat and come over here." Viking said, pulling a cheroot from a pack on the shelf and lighting it Corky joined him and as he took a swip from the flagon, Viking flung an arm around his shoulders.
"Reckon Virgil's got the telegram from Twin Pines," Corky asked?
"Sure, Pete rode down there yesterday," Viking replied exhaling smoke. "Relax he won't let us down. This donkey-dicked bastard will be out of the territory before he's missed." Corky put an arm around Viking's waist and studied the fiery welts across Bradburn's back and ass.
"We gonna brand him now?"
"Not yet Bonehead. See how I've hatched him right to left?"
"Yeah, looks kinda neat."
"Sure, when I've had me another couple of slugs, I gonna hatch 'im from left to right. Then you'll hear the bastard holler."
"Reckon we should gag him?"
"No, I want the whole fuckin' ranch to hear."
"This I wanna hear and I guess it gives the iron time to get hot."
"You're learnin' kid," Viking said with a smirk, and lifted the flagon again.

The first lash across the oozing welts on Bradburn's back was excruciating and he gave a yell of pain.
"Not so tough now are we Marshal," Viking sneered, swinging the whip again. "Let's hear you bawl like a baby."
The excitement surged up again and Bradburn wouldn't have known, even if his fevered mind had

Back Alley Abush 2

Wednesday, 15 January 2014

The Marshal Page 10

page 10
"Corky, where did Walt put the Marshal's shirt?" Taken by surprise, it took a few seconds before he could recall where he'd last seen it.
"He left it on the corral fence I think."
"Good, go git it for me."
"Sure," Corky replied and, puzzled, left the barn. He saw it at once on the fence beside the gate and, as he strode across the corral, heard the crack of the belt again. Picking up the damp shirt, he lifted it to his nose and deeply inhaled the sharp raw smell of male sweat. At times, back at the Jailhouse, he'd smuggled one of Bradburn's dirty shirts into his room and sniffed it while he wanked. No anymore, you bastard, he thought as he headed back to the barn.

Viking was again lashing Bradburn's nipples, now with all his might and the Marshal was grunting, his chest and belly an angry red. Lowering the belt, he turned to Corky and said, "I guess I've fixed those tits real good, reckon' I could fry 'n egg on them." Then taking the shirt he continued, "Why don't you give them a little tweak?"  Corky stepped forward and, as he gripped Bradburn's paps between his thumbs andf forefingers, looked at the belt-reddened pecs. The were peppered with scores of tiny marks, most oozing small beads of blood, where the sharp studs had punctured the skin. Bradburn had lowered his head and Corky up into the pale face. The black brows weere knotted in a scowl of pain over the dark angry eyes but the lips under the thick moustache were a tight line of defiance. "I'll take that look off your face, bastard," Corky grated, and gave the tortured nipples a savage twist. The lips peeled back from Bradburn's clenched teeth and he moaned as his paps were wrenched and twisted viciously. Corky still stared into Bradburn's face as he began to saw the tender nipples with his jagged fingernails.The eyes slitted in pain, the mouth parted a fraction and the Marshal whimpered as his pelvis thrust forward. Corky felt the large glans press again his belly as he sneered, "That's better you turd."
"Okay, that's enough," Viking barked and Corky gave the nipples a last ferocious wrench before releasing them. But his annoyance was forgotten when he saw what Viking held in his hand.
"Oh Boy, that's beautiful," he said with a laugh. He glanced back at Bradburn and saw that his face was flushed and his eyes gleamed strangely as he looked at his big heavy Marshal's star held in Viking's big hairy fingers.

Bradburn kept very still as Viking approached him but his body flinched involuntarily as he felt the blunt badge pin pressed against his right nipple. "Hey ain't that the wrong side," Corky called?
"No, he won't be a man when we've finished with him. He'll be no better than 'n brood-mare." Corky laughed and, as the tough skin of the Marshal's nipple yielded, and the badge pin was driven through it, Bradburn threw back his head and groaned. There was only a trickle of blood at first but when Viking roughly hooked in the pin and let go, the heavy buckle pulled on the pierced nipple and two larg beads appeared and oozed down Bradburn's body. The Marshal slowly lowered his head and glared at Viking, who stood before him, arms folded and legs wide apart, the familiar sneer on his face.
"If your gonna flog me, why don't you get on with it, you sick bastard."
"Before I do, I think you should know what I'm gonna do with you afterwards." Bradburn made no reply and Viking laughed, enjoying himself immensely.
"I'm selling you to some Mexican slavers who'll ship you across the Gulf, to Louisiana." Bradburn's
face went ashen.
"My God, you can't be serious, I'm a white man for Christsake."
"Seems they ain't perticular. Sides, they want white guys for a stud farm. You'll be there about six months, depending  on your performanace, then you'll be handed over to the male black slaves. They'll put you to work, when your no takin' care of their needs."
"|Needs," Bradburn yelled? "You can't mean, ...Oh Christ."
"But I do mean, Marshal, those black boys are kept segregated and are plenty horny, by all accounts."
Bradburn's blood ran cold as he realised that this was to be Viking's terrible vengeance.
"Pity we shan't be there to see it, eh Corky?"
"You can't get away with this," Bradburn yelled, knowing full well that they could.
"Oh yes we can. Tomorrow night you'll be on your way to a new career." Corky laughed and Bradburn turned his head to look at him. The laughter didn't reach the eyes, that we blue ice.He could expect no mercy there. Viking smirked and said, "Don't be too miserable Marshal, cos we want you to dance in the barn." Bradburn's brow furrowed in puzzlement, "Huh?"
"Yes you bastard, bollock-naked at the end of a whip," Corky sneered.
"You little son-of-a-bitch," Bradburn hissed through clenched teeth and Corky stepped forward and slapped him hard. From now on you'll only speak when permitted, UNDERSTOOD," he snarled, augmenting the last word with a backhander. Bradburn glared defiantly at Corky and growled, "Fuck
off." Corky snapped the Marshal's head back and forth with a series of vicious slaps. Blood oozed from the side of Bradburn's mouth and he could taste it, salty on his tongue. "I said, understood," Corky repeated menacingly.
"You heard, fuck you asshole," Bradburn snarled.
"Bastard," Corky screamed and drove his fist into the Marshal's balls  with enough force to slam him back agsainst the post. Bradburn sagged as the new pain surged through him.
"That's enough, stop pounding his bollocks," Viking yelled. Corky, in a frenzy of excitement, paid no heed and drew back his arm for another punch. Viking gripped his wrist and flung an arm around Corky's neck.
"Calm down you stupid fucker," he shouted, feeling the ginger man shaking in a paroxysm of sadistic lust. Slowly the trembling subsided and Viking murmured,
"That's better, go easy, eh?"
"Sure," Corky whispered, as Viking released him.
"Okay, let's get this bastard stripped 'n strung-up. You'd better get Walt to give us a hand, he won't be far away the horny little stoat." The stubble-chinned man was behind the barn, sitting on an up-turned log, oiling tacke. He rose and Corky saw as he approached that he was in an even more aroused state than usual.

They ran ropes through two sturdy eye-bolts set five feet apart in an overhead rafter. Bradburn put up a fierce fight and Viking had, relectantly, to knee him again in the balls to subdue him long enough for them to draw his bound wrists up over his head. By the time they had finally secured Brdburn, they were all sweating freely and Walt whispered, "Christ was a man." He wiped perspiration from his forehead and eyed the heavily muscled torso. Then his eyes dropped to Bradburn's groin and he added softly, "and when I we goin' to see the whole fuckin' works?"

Back Alley Ambush 1

re Americana

Sunday, 12 January 2014

The Marshal Page 7

Page 7
furiously, the bond cowboy managed to buck Bradburn off, roll over and get to his feet. Whirling round to face the Marshal, who was already up waiting for him, he took a terrific punch on the point of his jaw. He was thrown backwards, cannoned off a pillar, and landed on his ass, ears ringing and head spinning.  He scrambled away from Bradburn on all fours in panic. He'd kicked many a man senseless and expected to feel the thud of the Marshal's boot at any moment.

The red mist dissipated and Bradburn's battle rage ebbed as he looked down at the scuttling cowboy But his ice cold anger remained. He hauled Viking to his feet and gave him a hard jab in the belly. The coyboy's legs sagged but he didn't go down and Bradburn struck him on the side of the head. The force of the blow spun Viking round and he crashed onto a vacant table, reducing it to matchwood, and sending chairs flying. Again Bradburn pulled him to his feet and struck him an almighty back-
hander. For a moment Viking swayed, then went down onto his back, like a felled lodgepole pine, senseless. The was a long silence, then the men gave a huge cheer.  Corky battled his conflicting emotions, principally lust and anger, and managed to cheer with them.

Bradburn became aware of the pain of his battered body as he bent over the unconscious cowboy. He poked two fingers into Viking's shirt pocket and drew out a fold of notes. He peeled off two, replaced the rest and suppressed a groan as he straightened up. The was silence and the clump of his boots sounded very loud on the wooden floor as he strode to the bar and everyone heard him say to the bartender, "With apolgies from my friend, he hopes that this will cover the damage." There was a roar of laughter and cheering as Bradburn grabbed Viking by his shirt and dragged him out of the saloon and tipped him off the sidewalk into the sandy street. Again he gritted his teeth against the stabbing pain of his bruised ribs as he straightened up and marched back inside. He raised his hand for quiet, "Okay gentlemen, please be seated again. We've got a meeting to attend to." Bradburn's shirt had been all but ripped off in the fight and Corky saw that his face was covered with blood, which dripped through his black beard and trickled down his hairy chest. As he turned to walk towards him, Corky thought Bradburn's cock had never looked so awesome and he felt lust twist his guts.

Bradburn dropped into the seat beside Corky, who threw an arm around his shoulders. "Wow Abe, that was some fight," he said, managing a passable grin. "But I guess you need a bit of cleaning up."
"Sure, but don't fuss," Bradburn replied as he saw a woman heading towards him with a bowl and towels. "Now be quiet, there's a meeting on.

                                                                     Chapter 7

Slumped low in the saddle, Viking rode slowly out of Tyler. As he passed the Livery, Corky's buddy came riding into town. Good-looking dude, he thought as the handsome hispanic passed him and although his whole body ached, he felt his cock stir. He gave a rueful smile, it'd take more than a beating to keep his pecker down. Sure he'd recover soon enough but his wounded pride would take longer. When the hands heard about the fight he knew that he'd have to kick ass real hard to keep his position. But he knew that he was better'n any guy up at the ranch and he'd enjoy showing 'em. He brightened considerably.

Jose climbed the steps outside the saloon and confronted the big guy barring the door. Involuntarily his eyes dropped to the impressive bulge between the man's legs. and he smiled to himself. Despite having a wife and a mistress here in Tyler the man regularly visited the bordello in Red Butte, and was still horny enough to give Jose a good hard poking in the barn on occasions. The guy saw the direction of Joe's gaze and when he looked up again grinned, "Its been a while, Chico."
"Sure has, Ben," Jose laughed and added, "Isn't the meeting over yet?"
"No, that blond bastard from Daytons came bursting in here a while back, causing trouble. Marshal had to sling him out."
"I saw him leaving, look like a house had fallen on him."
"Sure there was a real dust-up."
"Is.....," Jose paused, he was going to ask if Abe was okay. Instead he said, "Is it okay if I go in?"
"I guess so, they're jist about finished."
Taking a deep breath, Jose pushed  through the doors. He saw Abe's battered face and, affecting only
mild interest strolled across to the bar. He bought a beer and moved across to take the vacant seat at Bradburn's table. "Okay, I've seen the other guy," he whispered.  Bradburn managed a grin, despite his sore face, and as Jose turned to Corky, he saw the Deputy give the Marshal a fleeting look of pure
hatred. Bradburn didn't seem to notice, and as he listened to a town worthy winding up the meeting, Jose tried to convince himself that he'd imagined it. As the men began to disperse, Bradburn rose to his feet, "I'm gonna get back 'n have a soak and find some clean clothes. See you guys later."
"Sure ," Corky replied as he watched the Marshal stride out. Turning his attention back to Jose, he remarked casually,
"Ain't seen you up at the waterhole for a while."
"No there's a lot to do  at the ranch," Jose replied carefully. I bet there is, Corky thought.
"But I hear you're spending a lot of time up there," Jose added.
Taken off guard Corky flushed, "What if I do?" Then a thought struck him, had they been seen.
"Who says so?"  he snapped, his voice rising.
"Oh, Abe mentioned that you're doing a lot of fishing lately," Jose replied calmly and saw again the look of hatred on Corky's face when he mentioned Bradburn's name. It was gone in a minute  and Corky's handsome face creased into an apologetic smile. "Sorry Jose, I jist thought that someone had been snoopin' on me." Jose nodded and bought another drink, keeping his unease to himself.

"Corky continued to spend most of his spare time up at Red Rock, swimming, fishing and wanking.
"He'd got the hots bad for the big blond bastard. He longed to again be impaled on his huge pole, to be crushed and subjugated. Then bad weather moved in, and storms lashed Tyler. The incidents of crime, low at the best of times, dropped to zero and the Marshal spent a lot of time up at the Rugero ranch. For day after day, it was impossible to work outside in the torrential rain and frequently Bradburn and Jose found themselves alone in the barn. Constrained by a sense of propriety, however, the never stayed long enough for their absence to become embarrassing to the family. They would kiss and Bradburn's rough hands would begin to tentatively explore and caress Jose's hard muscular body, before Jose would suck the huge balls into his mouth and roll them on his tongue.  And when the thick choking spunk hit the back of his throat, Jose could feel a little of the potent power dammed up in the big virile man begin to break free. Soon the floodgates would be swept aside and Jose was content to wait.

With crossed arms, Corky leaned against the wall under the Jailhouse porch, watching the rain drumming down. The street, under eight inches of swirling muddy water, was deserted. Suddenly
he saw the huddled figure of a drenched horseman approaching. The horse's head hung low as the man pulled the wretched soaked creature up in front of Corky and said, his voice barely audible above the hiss of the rain,
"Boss sez e'll see yah at the rock at noon on Tooosdey." Corky felt a surge of excitement and before he could make any reply, the man dug in his heels and the weary horse plodded on towards the Livery.

The rain fell unabated. No right-minded man would be out in this, Corky thought, as he led his horse down the rocky track, wet and treacherous, towards the river. That is, unless he wants to be fucked real bad. He tethered his horse and squelching his way to the old shack, mounted the creaking steps to the porch and pushed open the door. Viking was sitting, naked except for his hat and boots, on the old mattress. "Strip, come on, move it," he snarled and as he got to his feet, Corky saw the huge cock, oozing precum and tore at his wet clothes.

"Jeeesus, you've got to be kiddin' Corky shouted. He'd been slapped around even harder than usual, but his aches and pains and the taste of blood on his tongue were forgotten.
"No, I ain't kiddin'"
"If' 'n you think he's gonna ride out to Daytons, strip nakid and let you string him up you must be crazy.!
"An' I ain't crazy neither."
"You come out to the ranch and we'll tell him I'm holding you hostage."Corky gaped.
"We also tell him that I'm gonna flog him and give him a good working over."
"Why the fuck should he let you do that?"
"Christ, you 'r dumb. We tell him that unless he comes and takes what's coming to him you'll get it in his place. Corky's face flushed with excitement.
"Oh Boy, you reckon he'll fall for that?"

"He's got a kinda big brother love for you and you are his deputy. Sure he'll come."
"What 're you gonna do when we've finished with him. You can't just go around kidnapping
 and killing US Marshals.
"Killin's to good for him. There's a gang of Mexican hoodlums dealin'  in white slaves."
"What," Corky yelled, "They ain't got no white slaves in Mexico."
"There's a lot about Mexico you don't know bonehead. They ship 'em to slavers in Louisiana, who use them as studs. Seems half-caste slaves are highly prized."
"Jesus," Corky whispered, feeling his cock hardening. "An' when he...."
"When he's dried up, they put a chain round his neck and send him out bollock-naked with the black slaves to do hard labour and satisfy their needs."
"You mean they can fuck him?"
"Sure they can do anything they like with him. He'll be their whore.
"Christ, I like the sound of that." Corky whispered, his face flushed and his cock hard.

The Marshal Page 9

Page 9
He let is fall and heard the metalic clunk as his badge hit the stony track. As he dropped his stetson, the man with the shotgun, who had followed him down from the ridge, picked up his shirt and caught his hat in mid-air.
"Okay Marshal," he said, "head for the corral yonder, the Boss is waiting for you."

                                                            Chapter 9

Bradburn walked his horse along the side of an outhouse. turned left and there was the large corral. A dozen or so men, some leaning against the fence, some sitting of the top rail, watched silently as he approached As he neared the gate a ranch hand stepped forward and grabbed his horse's bridle, "Okay
Marshal, that's far enough, down." Bradburn climbed down and as the hand led his horse away, turned to face the silent staring men."Wowee, look at that boner," one of the men shouted. Another whistled and several laughed. But the laughter sounded forced, almost nervous and ceased abuptly, seeming to heighten the growing tension. Bradburn marched into the corral and stopped staring. The furthest end was formed by the side of a barn and Corky had been lashed, spreadeagled, ro its wide doorframe. He was naked. except for his boots, and his thick cock jutted out from a thick bush of ginger hair. Bradburnm felt his guts tighten and turned his eyes to look at Ohlson. He was bare-chested and he stood, legs wide apart, his crossed arms making his biceps look enormous. The bulge in his levis had never looked so impressive but it was the bullwhip he held that got Bradburn's attention. "My God, you bastard, if you've..."
"I haven't touched him, Viking snapped.. "This rawhide is for you, if 'n yr man enough to take it. Put yr hands behind yr back."
"Not until you release him."
"I ain't gonna cut him down til you submit." Bradburn squared his shoulders and glared at Viking.
"Okay mister, if that's how its to be," Viking snarled and striding round behind Corky, raised the whip
"No, for Christ's sake," Bradburn shouted and put his hands behind his back. The stubbled man quickly wrapped a length of rope around the hairy wrists and, as he  knotted it roughly, Viking roared with laughter. He flung an arm around Corky's neck and Bradburn was amazed to hear the Deputy   say,  "Told yer Viking, the only brains he's got are between his legs." Corky joined in the laughter and awful truth began to dawn on the Marshal. Vikinmg cut Corky down and,laughter gone, he turned back to look at Bradburn's anguished face. Corky's betrayal was like a knife in Bradburn's guts and  Viking savoured the moment. He sauntered up to the stricken, bound man and sneered, "In Sweden, we say that a man with no brains feels no pain. I hope that's not true Marshal, cos I've got a lot of it lined up for you." Bradburn made no reply as he watched Corky pulling on his clothes. "What d'yah say to that, eh Marshal?" Bradburn turned his eyes back to the man taunting him and Viking saw that they now blazed with anger, as he snarled, "No much Ohlson, you always had a big mouth." Viking
stepped back and gave Bradburn a tremendous backhand which rocked him on his feet then snapped his head back with an equally hard slap. "You'll learn to be nice to me Marshal," Viking said and drove his fist into Bradburn's belly. He grunted and, staggering back a pace, was backhanded and cuffed savagely. Tears welled up in his eyes and his ears rang as bracing himself, he saw Corky come forward and push Viking aside. "Why?" he said looking down into the Deputy's leering face.
"Because I hate your fucking guts, you arrogsnt ape," Corky snapped and brought his knee up hard into the Marshal's balls. Bradburn grunted loudly and as his body bucked forward, Corky's knee came up again, even harder. Viking put a hand on the Deputy's shoulder, "Easy mister, remember where he's goin'. I don't want no riled Mexicans comin' lookin' for me. Sure hurt the son-of-bitch as much as
you like, but don't injure 'im." Corky grinned and slammed his knee again into Bradburn's balls. The Marshal grunted and his body sagged but he did't go down. Pain speared up into his guts, igniting a feverish excitement that surged through his body and he lifted his bearded chin off his hairy chest and slowly straightened up. Corky looked the pale tear-streaked face and saw the excitement glittering in  the dark eyes. As he dropped his gaze to the massive wide-spread thighs and the awesome bulge between them, made by Bradburn's huge bruised balls, a thought, impossible though it seemed, flitted across  his mind. Was this tough bastard asking for it?? But too consumed by sadistic lust to care, he brushed it aside.

Knuckles on hips, Viking watched the young man with growing respect as he twice more drove his knee into Bradburn' bollocks with just the right amount of force. The ranch hands watched silently, most of them a little uneasy at the sight of the punishment dished out to anothers manhood. But when after the sixth blow, Bradburn's legs buckled and he dropped to his knees and pitched forward into the dust,  they gave a ragged cheer. Viking had forgotten they were there and gave a start, "What the fuck are you men still doing here," he shouted? Pointing to the stubble-chinned man he yelled, You, Walt, get the men back to work. We've got a ranch to run."
"Ahh boss, can't we jist..... "
"Do it, or by Christ, I'll horsewhip you." For the first time, Corky looked at the lean, muscular unshaven man and seeing the big glans jutting against the paper-thin denim of his threadbare pants
wondered why he had not noticed him before.
"Okay, Okay," Walt replied, his face a mask of disappointment, as he turned to the hands, "Come on you guys, move it. You heard the boss." Corky watched Walt herd the men away, his eyes lingering
 on the man's tight rounded ass.
"On your feet Bradburn," Viking snarled. As the Marshal pulled himself painfully to his feet, Viking shoved him roughly, "Git in the barn, move."

Viking lashed Bradburn's arms to a stout post, supporting the barn roof. "Dont worry, Marshal, I ain't forgot your flogging. Need to warm you up some so 'un you can 'preciate it.." Then reaching out he grabbed hold of the Marshal's wide studded belt. Bradburn's hairy abs twitched reflexively as Viking undid the large, ornate buckle. Easing the studs through the loops, he pulled the belt free, and grasped it by the buckle. As Bradburn watched him wrap the heavy belt a couple of times around his fist, he knew what Viking was going to do. The excitement that he'd felt when he'd been beaten in the corral,
welled up again. His body had a will of its own and he groaned inwardly as his breathing quickened and he began to sweat. Viking's lips twisted in a snarl of lust as he looked at Bradburn's large plump nipples, jutting from their nests of black hair, and lifted the belt. There was a loud staccato crack as the belt struck the Marshal and he grunted and jerked against the ropes. But it was a reflex action only, not the pain, as the burning sting of the studded belt fuelled his growing excitement. Swinging hard and wide, Viking began to lash Bradburn's pecs. The marshal dropped his head back against the post and held his body rigid as the studs, unerringly, struck his nipples again and again. The sharp stings merged into one burning pain that grew steadily more intense and Bradburn grit his teeth for fear that the exquisite agony would make him blurt out the unthinkable. Then Viking turned his attention to the rest of his chest and slowly worked down over his hairy belly.

Corky was in a feverish state of excitement as he looked at Bradburn's rigid cock srtraining against his levis. The whole area around the jutting glans was soaked with what Corky guessed was spunk until he moved closer and saw that it was precum. Christ, this son-on-a-bitch was horny, th thought, and he recalled his earlier notion. But before he could speculate further, Viking lowered his arm and kneaded his biceps

Friday, 10 January 2014

The Marshal Page 8

page 8
But you've still got the hots for him, ain't you Corky?"
"Yeah I suppose I have, in a funny kind of way."
"Why funny?"
"I'd get my biggest kick ever seein' him stripped and broken."
"I can guarantee you'll see that, if' n you cooperate with me. Is it a deal?"
"Sure is mister," Cocky said, stretching out his hand. Elated, Viking gripped it. He had committed Corky to a vicious betrayal of his erstwhile buddy. He was engulfed in a hot wave of lust and grabbing the muscular red-headed Deputy flung him onto the mattress.

                                                                  Chapter 8

Bradburn tucked the bottom of the rough check shirt around his balls and pulled on his levis. He strode out lof his room, buttoning up as he went, and rapped on Corky's door. He paused, and hearing no response knocked again. "Come on pardner, shake a leg," he bawled. There was still silence and he pushed open the door and peered in. The bed had not been slept in. That's damn strange he thought as he clumped down the stairs.There was no sign of Corky and he felt slightly uneasy as he put the battered tin coffee pot on the stove. He had no prisoners to feed so he made himself a bowl of grits before he headed down the street, in the bright morning sunshine, to the Telegraph and Stage office. There was no mail, as the stage from Red Butte would not arrive until well after noon, but there was a handful of telegrams He took them back, made himself some more coffee and read them, sitting at the Jailhouse desk. It was all just routine stuff and putting them aside, he sat back in his chair and lit a cheroot. As he exhaled a plume of acrid smoke, he stretched out his legs and his right hand dropped to his groin. He stroked his tumescent cock through the denim and, as he cupped his big heavy balls he thought of Jose. He'd planned to go out to the ranch after the stage had arrived but that wouldn't be possible if Corky didn't show up. Where the fuck was he?

The stage came and went and there was still no sign of Corky. At sundown Bradburn made his way over to the saloon for a drink. Sounding as casual as possible, he asked if anyone  had seen Corky.
None had and Bradburn tried to convince himself that Corky was out at the river and would appear any minute, sun-reddened and ravenous. At ten o'clock , there was still no sign of his deputy and Bradburn, realizing that he'd had more than enough to drink, made his way back to the Jailhouse.
What awaited him, sobered him up instantly. A grubby piece of paper had been pushed under the door and he picked it up and carried it to the desk and turned up the lamp.

You ar instrukted to be at the Dayton ranch an ower after sunup. Come alone and unarmed. At the gate strip off yr shirt an drop yr hat. Then ride nis n slow with yr hands on yr head to the corral. I'm
gonna give you the whippin you bin askin for. If' n you don't show yr  deputy will get your thrashin instead. He's stripped and hung up already. Tell no one or your cute litle buddy gets it, real good.  Viking

Bradburn screwed up the paper as he dropped into his chair. As the numbness of the shock faded he felt fear for himself and Corky, anger and deep down, a strange excitement.  Taking a deep breath he brought his emotions under control and reached into his shirt pocket for a cheroot. Her lit it and was about to flick out the match when he spotted the crumpled paper  lying on the desk. Picking it up with thumb and forefinger, he put the flame to it. As he watched it burn, it was not fear that made his hand tremble but the compelling excitement deep within him. He became aware that his cock was achingly hard and he groaned as he looked down to see it straining against the denim. His hands dropped to his groin and as he began to unbutton his fly, he  realized that, sitting at the Jailhouse desk, he was in full view of the street. Climbing to his feet, he took up the lamp and made his way upstairs to his room. The excitement flared up in him, fever hot as he put the lamp and tore at the buttons on his shirt. He flung the ripped garment aside and, undoing his levis, pushed them down over his hairy thighs. His breathing had been getting faster and, now panting, he fell back onto the bed and grasped his rigid cock. He pumped it a couple of times and exploded. As his orgasm engulfed him, he saw himself naked and spreadeagled his straining muscles lashed and bloody. Gouts of thick white spunk spattered his hair chest and face as more images of ropes, chains, bullwhips and a cock of  super-
human size, tumbled through his mind. Slowly his wrenching spasms subsided and the pictures faded
away into the oblivion of deep sleep.

The night was cool and it was the chill of the wet spunk on his skin that brought Bradburn awake. He rubbed his hand over the spunk clogged hair on his chest and sat up. The lamp was still burning and he looked down at his spattered chest and belly before he climbed out of bed. He snatched up the torn shirt, unpinned his star and wiped the spunk from his body and beard. Looking at the clock on the wall, he felt a jolt in his guts. It was about three hours to sunup and time to go. Fixing his heavy metal badge to a fresh shirt, he put it on. He pulled on his levis and picked up his gunbelt. ..Come unarmed, Ohlson had said and Bradburn knew that when he neared the ranch, he'd be carefully scrutinised  and watched. He felt certain that if he didn't do exactly as he was told, Corky would get it for sure. Suddenly in his mind's eye he saw Corky's naked muscular body writhing under the lash and threw the gunbelt onto the bed.

Bradburn saw no one as he left Tyler and hoped that nobody saw him. There was no moon but the stars gave ample light for him to see the well used trail. He had plenty of time and let his horse stride nice and easy. The excitement that had all but overwhelmed him last night was still there, laying  heavy and dormant on his guts like a stone but he felt it stir when he thought of the ordeal ahead. He turned his mind to Jose and tried to convince himself that he'd rather be riding to the Rugero ranch. But he knew that this was something he wanted to do. He could argue that he was going to save Corky. And whilst this was true, it was not the whole truth. There was another reason, deeper and darker that had spawned the intense sexual excitement last night and which he could not admit to himself. Bradburn's cock began to harden and he heeled his horse into a canter. The sky was lightening and he always got a hard-on riding.

The sun had cleared the horizon when Bradburn reached the narrow track that would lead over the ridge and down into the wide shallow valley in which the Dayton ranch lay. At the top of the slope one of the ranch's hands sat on a rock, his shotgun across his knees. As he approached the man slid
down from his perch and brought the gun up to his stubbled chin.
"Geddown," he snarled, "nice and slow."  Bradburn pulled up and raised his hands shoulder high.
"Sure but go easy mister," he said, looking down at the man who stood, legs spread wide, with the shotgun aimed at his chest. The dude was sporting a massive boner and his levis were so threadbare
that Bradburn wondered why the denim didn't split under the pressure. Seeing the direction of the Marshal's glance the man sniggered, then snarled again, "C'mon geddown, move it," and Bradburn complied, knowing what the man would see between his legs.  "Jesus," the hand whispered, gawping at Bradburn's groin as he lowered the gun to waist level. "Ain't that some salami you're packin' there
Marshal." To his surprise Bradburn heard himself reply, "From where I'm standing it looks like a damn good day for salamis." The man chuckled and said, in a friendlier tone, Move away from your horse and turn round slowly." Satisfied that Bradburn was not armed he checked the saddlebags before saying, "Okay Marshal,you can remount and move on."

The ranch was a large white, rambling building surrounded by numerous outhouses and a big corral.
On one side stood a huge water tank on four iron legs. A wooden platform had been fixed to the cross stays just below the tank itself and Bradburn saw that two armed men sat on it, watching as he approached the ranch gate, really no more than a gap in the fence with two tall raised posts and a third forming a lintel. As instructed, he stopped, pulled his shirt out of his levis and stripped it off.

Thursday, 9 January 2014

The Marshal Page 6

Page 6
"Guess I'd better bring a couple of hands along in case somebody tries to break it up," Viking said.
"No, don't do that. He's respected but not much liked and nobody will interfere. Fact is, more than
a few will enjoy it. But if they think its more than man on man, they'll expect me to step in. And if I don't they will.

                                                           Chapter 6

The hitching posts out front of the hotel and saloon were full and Viking had to go away along the street to tether his horse. He was wearing a snug-fitting buckskin shirt, open to then navel and his tightest levis. Walking along the sandy street, he enjoyed the feel of the rough denim rubbing his rock-hard cock and the looks it was attrracting. He saw that a big man was standing, legs wide spread, in front of the saloon doors. As he came up the wooden steps the man said,
"Sorry mister, you can't enter unless you've got business with the town committee."
"I've got business with the Marshal," Viking snarled and roughly shoving the man aside, pushed
open the saloon doors.

The six guys that made up the committee, sitting at a long table, stared at Viking and the men seated at round tables scattered around the huge room turned their heads to gape. It had gone so quiet, you could have heard a flea fart fifty yards away. Viking stood feet apart, arms held a foot or so away from his hips, and glared at Bradburn, who sat with Corky near the long table. The Marshal fixed his eyes on the hand, with fingers curled, so near Viking's gun, and, also holding his arms away from his body, slowly stood up.
"What the fuck do you want, Ohlson?"
"I came here to give you a thrashin'," Viking replied and began to unbuckle his gunbelt. "Shootin's too good for you."
Bradburn made no reply, but his hands went to his buckle. Viking threw aside his gunbelt and watched the Marshal undo his. Neither man was wearing chaps and Viking could see that the bastard was fully hard.  Awesome though the sight was, it was the massive bulge of Bradburn's  bollocks that interested him most. Brawling had taught Viking a lot and he saw that as the key to besting this smaller but immensely strong man.

Bradburn dropped his gunbelt on the table and, stepping around it, moved out to face Viking. He had a moment to sense that Viking was a harder and meaner man than when they last had fought, before he had to duck a punch to his head. In the same instant, he stepped forward and drove his fist into Viking's belly. The blond cowboy grunted and it seemed that he would fall back. But it was a feint and, as Bradburn moved forward again he took a tremendous blow to the side of the head. He staggered sideways and received a hard punch to the mouth. His ears still ringing from the first blow to his head, Bradburn stepped back but Viking moved in again with a hail of punches. Twisting and ducking, Bradburn dodged or deflected most and delivered a hard left and then a right cross to Viking's head. Now with his ears ringing, Viking drew back.

Warily the two men circled each other, trading punches and Corky felt a stab of excitement each time Viking's huge fists struck home. He saw that by keeping Bradburn outside his longer reach, Viking was able to deliver punches with impunity. But again and again, Bradburn managed to get in close and deliver hard telling blows before Viking could drive him back. Both men were now bleeding and weakening but sported rock-hard erections, as probably did most of those watching, Corky thought.

Viking knew that he had to let Bradburn in if he was to deliver the deciding blow. And this was proving difficult and dangerous. The bastard, close to, was devastating. Bradburn surged forward and slipped on the blood that was beginning to splatter the wooden floor. He was momentarily off balance and Viking, seeing his chance, drove his knee up into the bulge between Bradburn's wide-spread thighs. The force and viciousness of the blow drew a collective gasp from the watching men. Bradburn gave an explosive grunt and as he bucked forward, Viking swung up his fist, with all his weight behind it, in an uppercut to his chin. The Marshal's head snapped back and the power of the punch lifted him off his feet and flung him backwards. Unable to contain his excitement, Corky leapt up as Bradburn crashed to the floor and lay spreadeagled on his back. Stepping forward quickly, Viking stamped down on the Marshal's groin and ground his bollocks under the heel of his boot.  Bradburn's roar of pain was drowned by a huge cheer from the watching men, most of whom were now on their feet.

Reaching down, Viking yanked the badly dazed Marshal to his feet. "Now you're gonna get the thrashin' you deserve," he snarled. But only Bradburn heard above the din. They squared up again
and Viking threw a haymaker. Bradburn ducked, flung a return punch, missed and took two jabs in the belly and a hard right cross that made him reel. He deflected the next blow to his head but took a flurry of jarring punches to the body. He drove a punch at Viking's jaw but the blond cowboy rode it and moved in again with two blows that rocked B|radburn's head from side to side. The Marshal stumbled back and stood swaying on his feet as his world tilted alarmingly. Viking's body thrummed with excitement and elation sang in his blood. Beating a man was better than an orgasm and he'd only just started on this big-dicked ape. His fist made a loud wet thud as he drove it into Bradburn's spunk sodden package and the Marshal skittered backwards, tripped over a chair and crashed to the floor again. Viking hauled him up by his shirt front, and slammed him hard against one the bar's ornate wooden pillars and pinned him to it with a beefy forearm across his throat. As the weakened Marshal struggled to dislodge the choking arm, Viking looked down at his target, the bulging groin. Bradburn's massive rock-hard cock was held at right-angles by the tight damp denim giving Viking a clear view of the truly impressive bollocks. "You've had this coming for years, you bastard," he hissed and drove his fist hard into them. Bradburn gave a loud bark of pain and as he sagged against the pillar his thighs spread wider. Now Viking slammed his fist into the fully exposed balls and felt them spread under his knuckles. Bradburn fought desperately for breath, and as he tried to tear away the arm that was crushing his throat, took two more hard punches in the balls. He was losing consiousness and he slumped further down the pillar as his balls were savagely pounded. Finally Viking's straining arm could no longer support the weight of the sagging muscular man and he drew back. Bradburn slid down the pillar onto his knees and pitched forward on to his face.

Like all bullies, Viking underestimated his victim. While he smiled around at the cheering men, Bradburn pushed himself up onto his knees. His world steadied and ignoring the pain of his battered balls, he reached into himself, seeking strength. He found rage. It boiled up, engulfing him, and when he looked up, he saw the preening Viking through a red mist. With a roar of fury he came off the floor
and charged. He slammed into the gaping cowboy and they both crashed to the ground. Bradburn pinned Viking down with his thighs and delivered a series of hammer blows to his head. Struggling

Wednesday, 8 January 2014

The Marshal Page 5

page 5
Bradburn had leaned back against the wall, his racing heart slowing as his breathing steadied. Jose
still knelt on hands and knees, fighting for breath. Finally Bradburn had managed tol pant,
"Christ, Jose, I shouldn't have done that, I...."
"Shut up Abe, that's just what I wanted you to do," Jose replied, climbing to his feet.
"Oh Boy, Jose, you've come in your levis," Bradburn said and they both laughed, a little shakily. Then they heard Sanchez's voice outside. Bradburn had shoved his cock away, and grabbing up their forks, they'd began to spread the fresh hay. Sanchez shouted again amd Jose had grinned to himself, his brother was showing more discretion than usual. But the expression on his face, when he'd finally appeared in the doorway, and caught sight of Bradburn's gaping fly and his brother's cum-filled levis, was something that Jose would never forget. "Mama has the meal ready. You are welcome to join us Abe," Sanchez had said.
"Thank her for me Sanchez, but I have to get back to town," Bradburn had replied and Sanchez was gone like a shot.

For a few more minutes, Jose looked out over the prairie to the point where Bradburn had disappeared. Then he became away of the cold spunk oozing down his thighs. He couldn't let Mama see him like this.

                                                                Chapter 5

It was hot in the Jailhouse. Getting up from the desk, Corky stretched and glanced at the wall clock. Eleven and he was not meeting Viking til four. He pawed his crutch. God he was so fucking horny. He was really getting addicted to that bastard's cock. He looked at the beefy bare-chested man sprawled on his cot behind the bars. Like me, ain't yah, he thought, eying the big damp bulge between the guy's legs. I'd like to help you with that, mister, but if that bastard Bradburn caught us I'd be busted. Dammit he'd go across to the saloon and get some ham 'n eggs and a beer. He locked up
and walked out into the bright sunshine.

Abe and Jose were stood at the bar and again Corky felt a sharp stab of jealousy. They turned to face him as he approached and looked like a couple of kids who'd been caught stealing apples. Corky managed a smile and said, "Hi, mine's a beer," as Jose turned to order.
"Everything okay over there," Bradburn asked.
"Sure we've only one guest and he's been fed and watered."
"Okay I'll get over there, you eat and take the rest of the day off."
"Thanks, I was plannin' on goin' up to the river later for a swim anyway."
Bradburn nodded goodbye to Jose, snatched up his stetson and strode out. They watched him leave and Jose said, "I'd like to join you but I needed back at the ranch."
"Sure, some other time then," Corky replied unable to keep the rancour out of his voice.
"Sure, I guess I'd better be on my way too, Adios." Jose replied stiffly and made his escape.

Corky had a plate of ham 'n eggs and a couple of beers before he rode out to the river. He threaded his way through the trees to Red Rock and tethered his horse where it could reach the water to drink. Pulling a towel  out of his saddlebag, Corky stripped out of his sweaty clothes. His rigid cock bounced from side to side as he stepped down to the river's edge and plunged into the deep cold water. When he climbed out, some twenty minutes later, his cock ihad softened but there was still a dull ache in this balls. After towelling himself dry, he remembered what Viking had said and tugged on his boots, before making his way to the shack. He got his fishing pole and flies, and found a shady nook above the water hole.

Viking smiled to himself, all in all, it'd been a good night. He gotten the booze and let the boys have their fling. There'd been a good fist-fight and he'd plugged both the guys he'd wanted. The first had been a disappointment as he'd been too drunk to really know what was happening to him. But Oh Boy, secomnd. A big tough bastard, but he'd yelled and screamed for mercy. He'd fought back and thrashed about but Viking had rode the big bronco bastard real hard. Still smiling he ducked under the low tree branches and caught sight of Corky's red head and broad muscular back. He tethered his horse in the usual place and stripped off his shirt. When he turned, Corky was coming towards him, hard and eager.

Their coupling was long, hard and violent, only coming to an end when both men, for the moment at least, were sated. Corky sprawled on his back, bruised and sore as usual, too torpid to rinse the sweat, spunk and blood from, his body. Viking lay, with his head on Corky's body, seemingly also spent. But he was deciding if now the time had come to attempt to turn Corky's two-timing into full betrayal. Pitching his voice to sound a little more than indifferent, he said, "Ever done this with that big ape Bradburn, he's got a big enough pole between his legs?"
"No," Corky paused, the added, "Sure, he's hung like a fucking donkey, but he doesn't seem to know what to do with it." There was another longer pause, "Leastways he don't when I'm around." Viking heard the anger and frustration in Corky's voice and sat up. Turning to Corky, Viking tried to keep his growing excitement out of his voice, You're a Deputy Marshal and should always be there for him, but it seems to me you don't like him very much."
"He's an arrogant, butch-struttin' son-of-a-bitch," Corky said pushing himself up onto his elbows. Viking was unaware of the jealousy that was eating away at Corky like acid and his vehemence took him by surprise. The words were like music to his ears and he continued, "Some while ago, he was the foreman up at Dayton's ranch."
"That'd be afore you, I guess."
"Sure, I was just a hired hand at the time."
"Shit what happened?"
Shame like bile rose in Viking's throat and it was several seconds before he coud reply, and then with a life.
"I was the only one that stood up to his bullying.  An' he and his cronies gave me a beating. Worked me over so bad, old Dayton fired him."
Corky sat up, his mouth gaping with surprise and Viking knew the moment had come. He paused, licked his lips and said, very quietly, "An' I'm goin' to pay him back."
"What?" ...How...What do you mean?"
"Wanna see me give him the beatin' he's bin askin' for?"
Corky made no reply but his eyes glittered with excitement and his hardening cock gave Viking his answer. He smiled, and said,
"That means you'll stand by and watch?"
"Too damned right I will mister, I'll even hold your coat."
Both men laughed, before Crky added,
"When 'n when are you going to fix him?
"Don't right know. But I want the high 'n mighty in Tyler to see their big butch Marshal beaten to pulp... Any ideas?"
"Sure, Friday the town committee have their monthly meeting at the saloon. Me and him'll be there and everybody whose anybody around here.?" Viking was delighted.

Tuesday, 7 January 2014

The Marshal Page 4

Page 4
Corky began to get scared as he knelt on the mattress, head down and butt up, and felt Viking smearing the grease into his hairy crack. He winced as a thick finger was roughly shoved into him, then groaned as it was joined by another "Come on you bastard, open up, I could'nt even git a chipmunk's prick up there. Corky fought down his fear and relaxed his sphincter as he knew he must.
"That's better mister," Viking whispered, working two more fingers in. There was a wet slurping noise as, with rough circular movements, Corky was worked open. Suddenly the fingers were with-
drawn and a moment later Corky bucked violently as Viking gave his ass a resounding double slap.
"No mister, stay right there," Viking snarled, gripping the back of Corky's head and pushing his face into the mattress. With his free hand, Viking positioned his glans over Corky's puckerhole and shoved hard. Even opened and well greassed as he was, the pain was excrutiating and Corky howled as the huge glans slid into him. Viking continued to push and it quickly faded to an acceptable level. "Oh My God, more sir," Corky sobbed as he felt inch after inch of the massive cock boring up into his guts. But Viking didn't push all the way in, instead he shunted back ad began to fuck Corky, each thrust longer and harder. Soon he was slamming in his cock to the hilt and Corky was in an ecstasy of exquisite pain. He slid forward onto his belly, totally subjugated.

The fuck was long and relentless and both men were grunting like animals and running in sweat when Viking at last felt his exposion nearing. He increased his pace slamming into Corky in a frenzy. His eruption was heralded by a mighty thrust and he threw back his head and yelled as he fired a seemingly endless load into Corky guts. Slowly the spasms subsided and Viking pulled out abruptly. He rolled onto his back beside his supine victim and the last of his spunk pulsed from his still rock- hard cock. After some minutes, Corky pushed himself up from the mattress and groaned. "My God, that was some fuck," he whispered and turned his head to look at the big man sprawled beside him. He looked at the glistening cock that had just fucked him nearly senseless and saw the last beads of thick white spunk oozing down the rigid shaft. SuddenlyViking sat up and said, hia voice deep and husky, "It ain't over yet, mister."
"Oh no, I'm as sore as hell. My ass can't take another pounding like that for a while."
"Didn't you hear me boy, I said I ain't finished yet?"
"Oh come on mister, I...."
"Shuddup, an flip over onto your back." The voice was soft and menacing, and Corky felt a tingle of fear as he stared into the cold blue eyes. "Oh hell, okay, but for Christ sake go easy, huh," Corky replied, as he rolled over onto his back.
"I'm gonna plug that sweet ass of yours a couple more times afore I'm through and I'll do it any way I like." Corky made no reply but Viking saw his cock hardening again.

Viking lifted Corky's legs up onto his shoulders and slammed into him again. Corky gasped, there was no way that he was ever going to be able to take this guy without pain. But if quickly faded and the glorious sensation of being filled with surging cock engulfed him again. The angle of penetration changed and Corky's prostate began to take a real beating. With a scream he exploded, firing a load of spunk onto his chest and into his face. And the remorseless pounding continued.

                                                         Chapter 4

Out at the Rugero ranch, Jose watched Bradburn climb into his saddle and ride away. He lifted his arms onto the top bar of the corral fence and rested his chin on them as the receding figure reached a low ridge and dropped from sight. Jose licked his lips and could still faintly taste the Marshal's delicious spunk on his tongue. There was a soft footfall behind him and his older brother Sanchez said, "You obviously took my advice then?"
"Yes and thanks," Jose replied, recalling the conversation that they'd had here on the same spot the night before.
"You should do something about it," his brother had said.
"About what?"
"Oh come on Jose, we've all noticed how you look at the gringo."
"Oh God, even Mama?"
"Yes and at first she was upset. But I made her see that she had enough sons to give her all the grandchildren she could ever want. Its all right Jose, she still loves you."
"But I  have tried Sanchez, but he pushed me away. He's not interested."
"Jose you dumbwit," Sanchez had chuckled, why do you think he keeps coming out to the ranch."
"He's  become Papa's friend."
"Suree and we've all become fond of him."
"But he's not...."
"Listen Jose, he's a strong man, a loner, not used to showing or sharing his emotions with anybody.
Try again." Then his brother had smiled and added softly. "I think I'd like a gringo brother like him." And so this morning, in the barn Jose had tried another approach. He'd just stripped off his shirt to begin cleaning out the stalls when Bradburn strode in. Without a word, he too peeled off his shirt and grabbed a fork. Jose had felt the familiar tightening in his belly that he always had when this man was around. They'd worked for an hour or more and both were sweating freely before taking a rest. Bradburn had stood, his huge hands gripping the top of the long-handled fork. "Jesus, its hot work," he whispered, his blue eyes fixed on Jose's face. He hadn't replied but had taken the fork from him and tossed it against the barn wall. Bradburn had dropped his massive arms to his sides as Jose gripped him around the waist and pulled him towards him.  He'd looked up into Bradburn's face and seen the sensual lips slightly parted in surprise. The muscular body in his arms had been rigid and as he dropped his eyes to the thick hairy pecs before his face, he'd realized that the big man had stopped breathing. Jose had licked up a large bead of perspiration then buried his nose in the sweat-slicked hair between the two hard mounds of muscle. The scent of fresh male sweat had made his blood quicken, as he'd licked his way across to Bradburn's right nipple and sucked it into his mouth. He'd nipped it gently and he'd heard the Marshal groan and draw in a lungfuls of air before he began to breath deeply.

Emboldened. Jose had then nuzzled his way down Bradburn's hairy muscle-ridged belly and undone the heavy belt buckle. He'd dropped to his knees and resisted the temptation to fondle the huge cock bulge. Instead with trembling fingers he'd undone Bradburn's fly and yanked the denim down over the massive hairy thighs. The cock was a good thick ten inches and as Jose had stared it had began top harden, the foreskin slipping back to fully expose the exceptionally large and beautiful gleaming
glans. A large bead of precum dropped on a long glassy thread and Jose gathered it up in his mouth.
Then he'd closed his lips over the tip of the glans and began to very slowly massage it, gradually taking more amd more into his mouth. Bradburn's fingers had gripped his head and forced him further and further down his straining cock. Jose's mouth had been washed with a glorious salty taste and when his nose was finally buried in Bradburn's thick public bush, the overpowering smell of raw male virility had made his senses reel. Then Bradburn had began to face-fuck him, his thrusts becoming harder and rougher as lust strummed through him. Jose had clung to the Marshal's thighs totally overwhelmed by the ferocity. Bradburn had not had it for some time and certainly never like this and when he'd come it was an enormous gut-wrenching explosion.

Stake of Spines

Americana, continuing the theme

Monday, 6 January 2014

The Marshal Page 3

Page 3
Viking clumped along the wooden sidewalk and found the Jailhouse, opposite the hotel and saloon. He peered through the window and, seeing the Deputy was there, pushed open the door and entered.
Corky pulled his boots off the desk and jumped to his feet. His violet-blue eyes went wide with surprise before dropping involuntarily to the huge blond cowboy's groin. Viking stood, legs spread wide, and let the ginger dude look his fill before saying softly, "Seems you're still interested eh?"
Corky made no reply and just kept staring. "You deaf or somethin' mister?" Corky's eyes flicked up to meet Viking's, "Hell no sir its just....."
"Just what?"
"I ain't seen anything as big as that before."
"If'n its too much for you, I'll bid you good day 'n be on my way," Viking sneered thinking of the hairy hostler at the Livery."No wait sir, I didn't mean that."
"So what did you mean?"
Corky licked his lips, "I'd sure like"
"Take it up the ass?" Viking finished for him. Corky could only nod.
Viking smiled, "If'n you're so keen, mister, might I suggest you tell me where we can go. Or do you want me to give it to you over that there fuckin' desk?"
Corky laughed nervously, "I can't git out of here till Abe gets back." He thought for a moment then added, "How about I meet you by the river in say, three hours?"
"That's fine with me, I'll git something to eat over at the saloon."
His voice hoarse with excitement, Corky told Viking how to find Red Rock and, as the big cowboy left, realized the next three hours would seem like an eternity.

Despite the shade of the trees, it was very warm by the river. Corky took off his thick cotton shirt, folded it neatly, and placed it beside a large tree trunk. He fished out the tin of grease from his ass-pocket and sat down. Putting it on top of his shirt, he leaned back against the tree and stretched out his legs. His cock was rock hard and his guts squirmed with excitement. He closed his eyes and listened to the murmur of the river. What the hell was the matter with him. He'd taken big cocks before. For a while he resisted the temptation to pull on his cock but the urge became almost unbearable and his hand dropped to his straining fly. He opened the first button and, as he paused to stroke his throbbing cock, through the denim, he heard the muffled sound of a horse's hooves. Sitting up, he saw Viking tethering his horse by his own at the water's edge. He watched Viking remove his black stetson, unbuckle his gunbelt, and tugging his shirt out of his levis, peel it off. Licking his lips, he caught a glimpse of the magnificently muscled torso and the huge smooth pecs with their large nipples, before Viking bent forward to undo his chaps. When he straightened up, Corky saw the full extent of Viking's bulge and he felt a twinge of fear. He gave a groan and climbed to his feet as Viking strutted towards him.

The two men stood barely a foot apart and Corky stared up at Viking's handsome fine-chiselled face and the thin lips shaded by the huge blond moustache. He reached up, intending to kiss the cruel mouth and received a stinging slap in the face. Stumbling back a pace, Corky felt tears well in his eyes. "I don't want that kind of sick shit, got on your knees," Viking barked "An' put y'r mouth to better use." Corky,his ears still ringing from the vicious slap, dropped to his knees and Viking moved forward until his groin was barely an inch from Corky's face. His mouth filled with saliva and he inhaled the strong smell of Viking's sweat and maleness. For a moment, he pressed his lips against the damp denim, then licked his way along the hard shaft to the huge glans. Here the smell of spunk and sweat was almost overpowering. "Undo me with y'r teeth," Viking hissed, but Corky could not pull himself away. Viking stepped back and gave Corky another slap. "Do it, you bastard. C'mon, do as y'r told." Corky wrapped his arms around the massive and began the slow but delicious task.

Corky undid two buttons and was struggling with the third when he was given another hard slap. "For Christ sake, you useless son-of-a-bitch," Viking snarled, ripping his spit-soaked fly open and sending the final button flying. And there was the hugest cock Corky had ever seen. Bigger and more beautiful by far, than any he could have imagined in his wildest dreams It must have been nearly a foot long, he guessed, as Viking eased out his egg-sized balls. It was big enough to kill him, he thought, but in his sex-fevered state he really didn't care. "Eat it," Viking snapped, and stretching his mouth wide, Corky took in the huge precum-slicked glans. Shunting his head gently back and forth, he gradually took more and more of the thick rock-hard shaft into his mouth. But the glans was pressing against the back of his throat before he'd barely taken half of the enormous cock. Viking gripped Corky's head and slowly began to face-fuck him, steadily working the mammoth cock down his gullet. A skilled cock-sucker, Corky was able to take inch after inch more of the thick shaft without gagging until his nose was buried in Viking's wiry blond pubic hair. "Christ mister, y'r the first son-of-a-bitch that's ever been able to take all of me," Viking snarled as he face-fucked Corky hard, feeling his balls slapping against the ginger dude's chin. Pressure began to build and Viking slowed, in the hope that he could delay the inevitable. It was a vain attempt and he pulled his cock back out of the constricting throat, flooding Corky's mouth with thick salty spunk, as he exploded.

When the last spasm had ebbed away, Viking released his grip on Corky's had and stepped back. He looked down at the muscular bare-chested man on his knees before him. Corky's cock tented the denim between his spread thighs and spunk oozed from the sides of his mouth and dripped from his chin  as he looked up at Viking  "Y'r some cock-sucker mister. Now where do I give you the fucking you've been asking for?" Corky, unable for the moment, to speak, his bruised throat still clogged with spunk, pointed to the old trapper's hut, where he and Jose had stowed a straw mattress and a few blankets. Viking glanced at it, knuckles on hips, his drooling cock jutting out of his levis."I guess that'll have to do," he said and turned his attention back to Corky. "Okay, strip, let's see if'n you have an ass worth fuckin'." Corky tugged off his boots and levis and was about to stand up when Viking said, Put y'r boots back on, I think a nakid man without boots looks fuckin' dumb." Corky complied and climbed to his feet. Viking studied the muscular body and the thick, cut seven-incher sticking out of its bush of ginger hair. "Turn around." After a moment Viking murmured, "Now that's reeal pretty.
No-little boy buns, but a big manly ass beggin' to be rode. Let's git down to that hut, mister."
"Yessir, but I'm sure as hell going to need that," Corky replied, pointing to the tin sitting on his folded shirt. Viking laughed as Corky retreieved his grease and followed him as he headed down to the shack.