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?"