Page 97 - Leather Blues

Leather Blues 85

of Arrow’s mouth, exposing his equus teeth, depressing his
tongue flat under the horse muck, twisting his facial fea-
tures into some weird tortured mask of submission. Denny
watched Arrow’s throat, tight inside the noose, convulse in
struggling swallowing motions, as his saliva juiced up the
stallion nugget with nowhere to go but down his belly.
“Jesus,” Denny whispered.
Chuck held him steady by his cock. He leaned into Den-
ny’s ear. “You’re seeing one man’s version of heaven,” he said.
Jex-Blake pulled off his worn leather gloves. Arrow’s eyes
bugged wild behind the tight squeeze of harness. Jex-Blake
paused. A dark hand reached popper to Arrow’s nose. He
breathed in deep. Then Jex-Blake, with both gloves in one
hand, began to slap leather across Arrow’s bound face. Hard.
Alternating the blows: five to the face; five to the wired cock
and balls. Then harder: ten, fifty, a hundred.
Denny lost count as Chuck stroked his dick.
Blood ran from Arrow’s nose. It drained through his
moustache into his mouth, mixing with his saliva, melting
the horse nugget. Jex-Blake ran his finger across Arrow’s
exposed teeth. He rubbed the mix of blood, spit, and horse-
shit together on his fingertips. He snorted his hand. “Corral
soup,” he said. Then, accurate as a sharpshooter, he aimed a
long brown spit of his Red Man chaw straight into Arrow’s
mouth. “Hang ’im up another notch,” Jex-Blake said. Arrow
was near to blacking out, more from passion than pain.
Denny watched Doc, standing on duty next to Chuck,
reach for ammonia capsules.
“Hand me my reins,” Jex-Blake said.
Doc went for the leather gear. The move gave him ease
to move in and hit Arrow up with a double blast of ammo-
nia and popper. Doc’s boiler-maker screwed Arrow’s tripping
eyes back into reality focus.
Arrow watched Jex-Blake’s hands reaching toward his
tits. He felt the heavy-toothed clamps bite deep into his

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