Free Sacrifice to the Emerald God by Paul Blades Page B

Diego hadn’t let her say a single word since that had captured her anyway. His cock stirred at the thought of her soft, pliant skin and the tender hole between her legs. Why should he have to choke his chicken when there was an amply suitable cunt not fifty feet from where he sat?
          Manuelo decided that it wouldn’t hurt anything to take another look at her. It was his job to make sure that she was all right, wasn’t it? He put the bottle aside, tossed his burning fag end into the fire and walked lazily over to the tent. There was a new moon out and the little clearing was brightly lit. He left the flap to the tent open as he entered it so that the pale light would penetrate it. The girl looked up at him with frightened, suspicious eyes. Her hands twisted in her ties above her head and she drew her legs together. He didn’t mind. He knelt down next to her and ran his hands over her soft, pale skin. “Oooooooouuu, putita ,” he said to her, “you’re skin is so soft I’d like to eat you up.” He teased the points of flesh at the tips of her breasts until they stood up at attention. The girl whined and her body shuddered as he stroked her. Maybe he would fuck her, he thought. But then the vision of the fierce bandit came into his mind. He had seen el Jefe do some pretty mean things. He wouldn’t want to be at the brunt of the man’s ire. It was foolish to risk his life for a little bit of pussy. In a few days, perhaps, they would move south to the border town where the gringa ’s money would buy him a proper whore for a week. He patted the bound female on her tummy and left the tent.
          The scrawny bandit sat at the campfire morosely cogitating on his lowly status, the unfairness of his leader and the soft, pleasant flesh of the woman in the tent for a couple of hours. Once or twice he started his way back to the tent with a determination to sink his cock into her pussy, Diego or no Diego, but lost his courage and returned to the fire. The third time, he mustered enough grit to go back inside. The woman was asleep and she jumped and screamed behind her gag when he touched her. This time, he forced her thighs apart and coddled her little treasure in his boney hand until it was damp and then pushed a long, stiff finger inside. The girl whined and moaned as he did it, but he paid that no mind. What did she matter, anyway? It was her own fault that she had been stupid enough to let herself be captured by Diego in the first place. Why didn’t these Norte Americanos stay where they belonged? They came down with their money and their whorish women and marched around as if they were something special. He had driven a cab for a while in Caracas , before he had been caught stealing and thrown into prison for three years, and he resentfully recalled the umbrage that his Yanqui passengers expressed when they discovered that he didn’t understand English. They would shout the strange words at him slowly as if he were some kind of retard that could be made to understand only if the words were said loudly and slowly enough. No, the whorish blond woman deserved all she got.
          But yet, once again, the vision of Diego slitting his throat came into his head and he abandoned his purpose. It was a few hours later, once he had reached the bottom of the bottle of local, harsh brandy, that he had finally got the courage to act on his desires. It was the recollection of the screaming and moaning that he had heard from the putita as Diego fucked her that did it. He and Pepe had looked at each other and grinned as the woman’s impassioned cries emanated from the small tent again and again. He wanted to hear them this time up close.
          Bravely, drunkenly, Manuelo staggered over to the small tent. The woman was awake when he came in and the moonlight glinted off of her fearful eyes. He knelt at her feet and, taking her ankles in his hands, spread her legs apart. The frightened woman did not resist, but