Bodie was the worst town in the history of the United States. It was a mining town, set in California's Mono County, close to Yosemite Park. It almost touched the Nevada boundary line.
It was a roaring inferno during the 1860s and 1870s. It was a nightmare. There were some fifteen thousand miners, family members, adventurers, whores, killers, gamblers, rapists, and lunatics. There were packs of wild dogs turned loose by the miners so vicious that they were literal mankillers. Many a drunken miner was torn apart by one of the packs of wild dogs. And it was a sport of the town to pick them off. They made good target practice.
After 4 in the afternoon, it was suicide to be on the streets in certain parts of Bodie. The surrounding communities hoped that it would blow away and disappear. Of course, while the gold held out, that was impossible.
Over one hundred million dollars in gold was taken out of the hills around Bodie. It was an invitation to some of the worst bastards in the West.
Whores too, were attracted to Bodie. Red Ass Alice Fayne and her girls came out to Bodie in 1868. Bad ass prostitutes all of them, tough girls who could take care of themselves. Real rough and tough bitches.
Nancy Sloan was lying in the wagon, stark naked, with a wooden carved cock stuck up her pussy, eating Indian peyote.
"You stupid, useless, whore," Red Ass yelled, "why don't you take a spell driving this stupid team."
"Drive it yourself, Red Ass."
Red Ass Alice, so named because her bottom was known to blush pure crimson at times, looked over the girl with fire in her eyes. It was time to assert her authority over the unruly hellion.
Nancy was a beauty, and a pure hot blooded whore. She drank, gambled, killed, and was in every way a pure bad character, the thing men most wanted in their whores. She had no heart of gold, or any kind of a heart at all. But she was a beauty, still young and fresh and 18. She had long, golden hair flowing down to her waist. She had high cheekbones, and a beautiful full body unmarred by anything except the knife scar on her right tit. The girl who gave her that mark wound up herself carrying a dozen scars that turned her face into a nightmare of sickening horror.
"I think, gal, you're looking to get your ass busted up."
The other girls were eager for a fight. And the punishment. Red Ass had taken the whip to all of them except for Nancy.
"You fixing to give me my comeuppance?"
"You got a beating coming, gal."
"You going to whip my ass for me?"
"I'm gonna whip every inch of that gorgeous body of yours. Maybe I'll put a few cactus needles into you, just for the fun of it. I think I'll let the girls have some sport with you later. You like to use that mouth of yours on the gals, honey. I'll let them all have their turns with you, one after the other. Then I'll use your face to dust off my ass, bitch."
"Those are hard words, asslicker. Let's see if you're she wolf enuff to back them up." Nancy threw herself at Red Ass. She yanked the wooden prick out of her cunt and smacked it into Red Ass's jaw. The big, powerful, red haired woman went down. But she came up out of the trail dust with fire blazing in her eyes. She ripped away the front of her dress to give herself a little air. Now she had room to move around inside the confines of her garments. She intended to rearrange the bitch's face for her.
"Gal, I'm gonna bust your ass.' "If you do, I'll eat the shit right out of your ass. If I bust your head, you gotta eat the shit out of my ass."
"Come on then."
Red Ass's big, bouncing rolls of tit meat were soft and white and inviting. She had enormous jugs, big pendulous things that drove men wild the way they moved under her dress. And they were good targets.
Bad Nancy sprang off the wagon. She grabbed the tits as she plowed into Red Ass Alice, and as she fell off of the big body, she held on to them, pulling and tugging at them, trying to pull them right off of the big body.
"Get her," Big Annie yelled to Nancy. "Tear her tits right off."
Red Ass Alice made a mental note to take care of Annie at the first opportunity. But first she had a fight to win. She grabbed Nancy by the hair and lifted her into the air. She swung the girl in an arc. As Nancy was swung, her hair tearing at her scalp, her claws unlocked from the tits of Alice, leaving bloody gashes in the flesh.
She went flying through the air. She landed on her ass, and then Alice was on her like a wildcat.
They rolled over and over, Nancy stripping the big woman stark naked. They fought like two wild beasts. They clawed tit, punched, smashed soft bellies, ripped and bit.
Nancy wound up on the bottom. Alice was too strong for her. She pinned the smaller woman down and choked her with large, powerful hands.
Choking and coughing, Nancy beat at the hands that strangled her. Alice suddenly let go of her and lifted both hands overhead. She slammed them down into Nancy's well shaped tits. The flesh quivered and sprayed, rising in mounds around the fists sunk right into the center of the breast bags.
Nancy's body did a bouncing, breaking dance of pain. Then she lay still in the dust, badly battered.
Her tits were flushed angry red, black marks beginning to develop in the center of the red flesh.
Alice clawed the boobs, running her nails up and down the breasts, tearing away skin. She slapped the girl's face back and forth, back and forth, until blood oozed from the nose and mouth.
It was the madame's privilege, by the hard rules they lived by. She had won the fight and the code gave over the body of the girl to her for discipline.
She dragged the girl off to the side of the trail, tugging her by one arm. She tied her to a tree with heavy rope, her arms extended overhead to a high branch some ten feet from the ground. The girl's toes were barely in contact with the ground.
"Now, we'll see just how much treatment this here bitch can take."
One of the girls fetched the big, black bull-whip.
They all huddled around, eager to see the fun. They knew that the skin was going to be lacerated and flayed from the back of Nancy.
Alice did not want to ruin her best girl. She wrapped the whip in soft cowhide, using rawhide thongs to tie it up. Now most of the damage would be avoided, although the thongs would leave their own marks upon the soft body.
"You got any words you want to say before I begin this, Nancy."
Nancy spit into Alice's face. Alice wiped away the wetness with the back of her hand, beaming a smile of respect at the spirited girl.
"We'll soon see if you continue to feel this tough once I get started on you with this here thing."
Alice lashed out, the whip cracking around the girl's waist. It looped three times around her, striking thousands of needles and pins through her skin.
"Eiiieeeeeee."
Nancy screamed in pain, kicking about on tiptoe, her breasts bobbing. Alice made a target out of these, whipping them mercilessly. She laid lash after lash on the gashed breasts that had been considerably battered in their fight.
Her own stings and hurts disappeared in the pure pleasure of whipping the high spirited filly.
The other girls were excited watching the fun. They put hands all over each other, and drank the red eye, swallowing it down as neatly as any mountain man or jackass miner. They were a rugged breed.
The whip was turning the body red with stripes. On the tits, on the ass. Nancy had her ass hit so many times that the welts formed an indistinguishable red mass on her bottom. Despite the protective covering on the whip, her ass was hit so many times that it was soon buried beneath a coating of blood.
"Come on, Nancy, don't go passing out on me so soon, I got a lot more ass to whip off of you. I thought you had some sand, bitch."
"Fuck you, cow."
Nancy received for her bad mouthing another three dozen lashes on her bottom. The ass was flagellated until the blood began to flow down her thighs. She was indeed in very sad straits.
"Give her a drink," suggested Kitty. "Maybe that will give her some backbone."
Alice threw the whiskey in the girl's face. It poured into her bloody skin, stinging her, and making her cry out with her hurt.
"Now I see I'm getting some sound out of you," Red Ass gloated.
Suddenly one of the girls shouted out a warning. Up the trail at a slow canter, three riders were coming.
"Lets get this bitch inside and be ready in case they mean trouble."
There was all kinds of hell for whores on the move. They had money, and they had their cunts. It was a combination that much of the saddle trash they ran into was ready to kill for.
"They look like real saddle trash to me," Big Annie muttered in fear. "They look like real hardcase yahoos."
"Damn jayhawking bastards," said Kitty. She scratched her tit half hanging out of the bodice of her low cut dress. "Look at the big one in the lead. The one with the Wyoming hat and the poncho. He has a gunslinger's right on his hip. And he sits in the saddle like a gunny."
"The other two also hold themselves like gunnies," Red Ass added. "They all have that look to them. They smell of trouble. And they stink period. Shit, I can smell them out from here."
The three riders rode on steadily, their faces hard beneath all of the dirt. There was lechery in those eyes. But to the experienced whores, it was the lechery of the cruel and the murderous. It was the lust and the leer of the professional killer. They had seen enough of that kind in a dozen mining camps, in a hundred saloons.
The riders came up to the wagon, walking their horses slow, feasting eyes on the women. They were a bad lot.
"Afternoon, ladies. I reckon you're on your way to Bodie."
Alice answered for them. "Yes mister. We're on our way to Bodie."
"You're headed for a rough place," answered the tall man, his face made up of slabs and ridges, hidden under dirt and beard stubble. He had small, slit eyes, with burning black centers.
Alice looked the other two over good. One was a swarthy Mexican with a straggling moustache. He stank of grease and sweat and dirt. The other was a little scrawl of a man. He had a scarred face, and red rimmed eyes. But the gun at his side was a new, Smith and Wesson in an expensive holster, a hand crafted holster.
"You gents from Bodie," Alice asked.
The tall man laughed, a dirty laugh. "We sure are. And let me tell you, its got more hot cunt whores than any other place in the territory."
Alice bristled in rage.
"Somebody should teach you some manners mister."
"You ladies in whores, ain'tcha. Shit, you look like whores." He sniffed the air. "You smell like whores too."
His two gunhands laughed. They were all of them itching for trouble and excitement. Three bastards on the prod, figuring they had an easy time of it with the women.
"I count eight of you. Plus that gal that is inside your wagon. She seems a mite skittish. Wasn't you whipping her ass off when we was riding up here?"
Alice changed the subject hurriedly.
"What's your name mister?"
"Bill Swinson, lady. Tennessee Bill, they call me."
Alice's eyes registered stark fear, before she regained her poker face. The faces of the other girls also showed the same fear.
"I see you heard of me. Yeah, I got quite a rep."
Alice looked at him with contempt.
"I heard that you shot a fifteen year old boy once, that you didn't even know. Because you wanted to carve an even ten notches on your gun, and he was the handiest target near you." His face took on an ugly twist.
"I think I want you ladies stark naked, right now. I'll decide who I want to fuck. And I want all your money, and everything you got that's worth anything. You needn't worry about making out in Bodie. I'm gonna peddle your asses myself."
Alice whistled. From garters came small derringers and four shot Parker's-Pistols, the dance hall girl's favorite hidden weapon.
One of the girls pulled out a shotgun from under the floorboards of the wagon. From the inside, Nancy covered them with a Winchester.
"Drop your guns, you shit eating ass sucking, mule kissing bastards."
They went for their guns. Swinson put a bullet through Alice's shoulder, as the shotgun and the rifle blasted him and his horse to earth.
The other two drew their guns. But as they cleared holster, the whores were blasting them from their saddles.
The Mexican took a bullet in the chest, and two in the head. He suffered a few minor wounds, but it was the sum of these three small calibre hits that finished him.
The little man went down, shot in the lungs, shoulder, and leg. His horse also went down, a Winchester bullet in the head. As the little man went down with his horse, the weight of the falling beast trapped and broke his wounded leg.
The nine whores walked over to the fallen gunmen. The little man trapped under his horse was screaming for mercy, his voice drowning in the blood bubbling up out of his throat. He was dying. Alice put one into his head to finish him.
As they approached, Tennessee Bill, he leaped to his feet.
Guns were leveled at his belly, eyes blazed at him.
"Don't kill me, please don't kill me."
"You fucking bastard," yelled Nancy. "You're unhurt. You dirty coward."
It was true. They had blown his hat off and shot his poncho to tatters. His horse was dead, a gory shotgunned mess. But he was untouched. As he trembled and shook before them a stain spread in the front of his pants and from the dirty trousers came the acrid odor of urine and the sound of flowing water.
"He's wetting his pants," Nancy exclaimed.
They broke down into wild laughter. He was so frightened, that he could hardly stand on his feet.
"The dirty drygulching, ambushing bastard. A real nighthawk. A real jaystalking bushwhacker. A backshooting shitheap. But he ain't got the stuffings for a real fight. The bastard."
Their humor restored, and their total triumph complete; the urge to kill was passing from them.
"What do we do with him, kill him?"
Alice thought about it. The wound in her shoulder was being attended to by two of her girls as she thought on the matter. She debated whether or not to finish him. He had put a bullet through her shoulder. She had been shot before, but this did not lessen her resentment.
"Let's not kill him. I have a better idea. We're gonna take this bastard into Bodie. What we leave of him, to show his friends. If he has any. But if not his friends, then all the rest of them bastards. We'll show them what we do with bastards who try to hurt us. We'll make an example out of him."
CHAPTER TWO
They took him off the trail into the desert to have some time to work on him. They wanted their vengeance. They wanted his ass roasted slow.
First, they mutilated his hands. So he could never use a gun again.
"We have to really ruin his hands," Alice explained. "So he'll never hold iron again like a man."
"Let me pull out his fingernails," begged Kitty. "My brothers were gunned by a hardcase just like this one. I love to see these pigs get hurt."
"Don't do it," he begged. "I'll pay you. I got money. I'll do anything. Don't hurt my hands."
Five of them pinned him down, while the others spreadeagled his arms to stakes in the ground. They stripped him naked as they worked on him.
Nancy grimaced at his stink. She jabbed her foot into his balls and squashed them under her foot, grinding them into the ground. She rested all of the weight of both feet on his groin. His scream rose into the air until it drowned out all other sounds. She did a shake and a twist on the balls of her feet, grinding down his stones.
"Reckon he won't be fucking anyone for a month."
Jane grabbed his cock and handled it. She pumped it so cruelly that she almost tore it loose. It failed to become hard.
"You made him safe for a while."
Kitty selected tweezers for the job. She gripped the nail of his right thumb. He kicked and thrashed around. He almost tore loose of his bonds. But they held him fast. And Kitty ripped out his fingernail, laughing with evil pleasure at his suffering as she mutilated the finger. She did it slowly, sawing and twisting on the nail, making the job a gory, grotesque and gruesome one.
He screamed with the terror of the demented.
Then his yells continued as his other nails were torn out. One after the other, all ten of them.
Some of the girls had started a fire. An iron was heating in the fire. It was coming to a red-hot glow.
"We got to do something about his trigger fingers," Alice said.
"Let me do it," Dora pleaded.
She was given permission, and the frolicsome girl, as young and happy as a kitten, pulled out her derringer. She reloaded it, calmly ignoring the screams of the man. Then, with her soft, innocent face expressing a serene joy, she shot off his trigger fingers, the index fingers of both hands, blowing them right off without a trace of compassion or compunction on her face.
A few of the girls looked a little sick, but Alice set them straight on the realities of their situation.
"We have to demonstrate that we can handle ourselves. There ain't gonna be no bastards bothering us when we're done with him."
Her face hard, she kicked the shot off fingers into the blazing fire.
Her victim was in shock, his small slit eyes staring in horror straight ahead. It did bother her, the way he stared. But he had brought it on himself. It was his fault, and they had to protect themselves against all threats. It was the law of survival.
She cauterized the bleeding stumps of his cast off fingers, stopping the flow of blood. Then she gave him a kick in the ribs, cracking one.
"Stupid son of a bitch."
One of the girls procured a handful of cactus needles. She tested the sharpness by pricking him on the chest. Spots of blood appeared on his hairy chest. He twitched and jerked, crying out his agony.
Then he went into the horrors of true suffering and terror. Into his balls the needles were thrust, one after the other. They stabbed the cactus needles into his big testicles, again and again, and yet again. Right through the flappy skin, the loose pouches. They ran the pins through his flesh until he could no longer bear the pain, and passed out with one final cry of agony.
They were far from finished with him. They revived him to his regret. There was still the branding iron. They had it hot enough now.
"One last lesson for you varmint," Alice gloated. "A little something for that bullet you put into me."
She brought the iron close so that he could see it. His mouth dribbled the slime of fear. His eyes did a crawling running darting about in his head. He stared with the stark terror of a man facing death. He pulled at his bonds with limbs rubbed bloody raw by his writhings.
"Shit, let's get it over with," pleaded Nancy. "I'm getting sick of this business."
"All right. I reckon you got a point there. Lets finish this thing now."
She touched the hot iron to his forehead. Smoke spiraled upwards from the searing flesh. His screams rose over the prairie. He went into shock as the iron turned cool upon his seared brow.
The next day, the ladies arrived in the town of Bodie. Across the backs of the horses pulling their wagons, rode the naked whores, whooping it up and drinking from the long necked bottles of Eastern whiskey that Red Ass Alice favored.
Three bodies were dragging at the back of the wagon. Two were corpses, slung by the heels. The third was the living, though badly mutilated Tennessee Bill Swinson.
Faces that stared at them with admiration and lust also stared with expressions of awe, fear, and respect. Swinson had murdered close to twenty men in Bodie. He was one of the worst of the killers. Now he was at the back of a wagon, his ripped face dragging in the dust.
His bloody hands sprawled in the dirt, scraped raw, minus the trigger fingers. His hands were torn and swollen, the fingers unrecognizable.
Swinson had been a killer of wild dogs. The packs had been shot to hell by his guns. Now a pack of the most vicious of the mongrel curs came roaring down the street, drawn by the scent of blood. Before anyone could react, they were all over Swinson and the two dead bodies. They ripped flesh, tore the three bodies, one living, apart. Swinson's face was ripped away in the jaws of wolfish dogs. His hands were torn off, his guts ripped out and half devoured. A wave of dogs covered him.
The whores riding the horses were in panic, shrieking with terror as the horses bolted. They were frightened of the dogs and horrified of the blood feast the pack was indulging in.
A score of guns were now at work. The dogs were shot to pieces, blown apart by bullet after bullet. And the gunfire was too much. The horses bolted. They went crashing down the street, naked whores spilling to the ground.
The nine whores became eight, as Nancy was trapped under the team and trampled.
Nancy was swept up into the arms of a brawny, laughing cowboy. He had foul, rotting teeth that showed as he laughed with a moronic glee at the show. He shoved his hand up Nancy's bare bottom, his fingers filling her hole.
The wagon went out of control, Red Ass Alice trying in vain to stop it. She jumped free, as the team went tearing around a corner, spilling over the wagon with a thunderous crash.
A pair of miners caught in the path of the stampeding team went down, backs broken and bones crushed. They lay in the dirt, oozing blood, broken and dying.
There was pandemonium in the streets. Dead, mangled and partially devoured outlaws, dead miners, smashed wagon, dead dogs, and skinned whores, crying and whimpering.
It was an entrance that even Bodie had never seen the like of. Hundreds of the townspeople filled the street, gazing upon the carnage and havoc.
It was not the sort of a debut that Red Ass Alice and her entourage would have wanted. Still, it did get them the notice. And that was half of the victory won.
A few hours later they were set up in a tent, that Alice had purchased for them from a disgusted whore house matron whose two best girls had been raped and kidnapped by the Calaby gang, a group of notorious bushwhackers and rapists.
"Shit," grumbled Nancy. "Is this going to be it, a fucking tent."
"It's as big as a circus tent," Red Ass said. "We can get ten beds in here."
"What about working a real saloon," Nancy said. "I have half a mind to take off and set up on my own."
Red Ass had a derringer pointed at her face inside of one second.
"Don't go making any kinds of plans like that, plans that include us out. We're all here together and this is the way we're keeping it. You hold to the hands I deal. We'll have our own place before very long."
"Yeah, but this town is full of the worse pack of killers I ever did see."
"That's why we have to stick together, and told tight. We've got to remember mutual protection. As long as we're all in this as one, nothing can happen to us."
"Don't forget," Kitty interrupted. "One of us is dead already."
Alice looked at the body laid out on the table. There would have to be a funeral service. She hated the idea of burying her girl in this shit-ass town. But there would be a turnout at the funeral. People eager to see the hellions who had half wrecked Bodie with the entrance, and dragged in Bill Swinson and his two cronies.
At the Golden Garter Saloon, Hetty Malone was disciplining one of her girls. She had caught the bitch trying to escape.
Hetty ran a profitable business. Her girls were slaves, paid low percentages and kept in chains when not at work with their cunts. Her gunmen backed up her plays.
Apache Jane, a half Apache beauty with simmering sultry dark looks, had tried making it out of the second floor down the wall. Now she was spread eagled by chains to the wall in the back room on the third floor of the Golden Garter, the torture room.
The girls were crowded around, forced to watch the punishment of their sister. It was to discourage them from having similar ideas.
"I've warned you line working, shit eating whores, about this," Hetty raved. "Now you'll see with your own eyes that I mean business."
They were sullen and resentful. They knew that she was using them fouly and taking advantage of them, but there was nothing that they could do about it. She had all of the strength on her side. They were badly outmatched by Hetty's goons. And she was foul and ruthless enough to kill them if they resisted her. So there was nothing that they could do about it. Nothing at all. They were trapped and they knew it.
But now they had to watch once more the terrible punishment take place.
Apache Jane had a burr up her tail. Cactus burrs had been stuffed into her vagina. Her mouth had been filled with horse manure.
Hetty was whipping her on the tits with a doubled up length of rope. She slammed the rope into the high, proud breasts. Again and again it crunched home. Blood ran down the body of the girl. Blood ran down her torso in small rivulets flowing into the hairy mass upon her pussy mound. It was thick rich blood, and the girl was in great suffering. Her orifices were ablaze with the chemical pain of the burrs acting upon the delicate membrane tissue. Her vulva lips had been smeared with a stinging, hurting oil taken from roots and various forms of cactus. This added to her discomfort. It was all she could do to stand the pain.
Hetty Malone smashed into the body, tearing deep cuts into the ass. She whipped raw streaks and patches into it with the blood soaked rope, and as she continued to flog away, she made the body run blood until the entire surface of the skin was coated with a red slime compounded of blood and sweat.
Hetty thought of the new arrivals in town. She had recognized Red Ass Alice, her old enemy. She had once been the madame of Red Ass. And Red Ass had given her the scar that she still carried on her ass, the knife scar that cut from the left hip to the bottom of the undercurve of the right buttocks across her whole, seat, and then in a loop up again and around to the right hip. It was a deep, permanent knife wound, an inch into the mash of her bottom. It had put her out of the fucking end of her own business, she could not bare to show that scar. She had killed a man who had once seen her butt, for knowing the shameful secret she concealed.
And now her enemy was here in Bodie, where anything could happen. Where killers shot their victims just for the hell of carving a notch in their gun, and a man could be killed for the nickel price of a roast beef sandwich in a saloon.
Her foe would know vengeance visited upon her, in ten fold retribution. But she had to be careful. The bitch and her cubs had brought in one of the deadliest gunhawks around, more dead than alive. And two of his tail walkers with him. Now the three of them were bait for the buzzards, food for the dogs.
She would have to be careful. Obviously they were all handy with guns and knives. And Hetty knew that the only loyalty she commanded was the loyalty she could buy. Her girls hated her, and her gunnies only worked for the foul tempered bitch because of the gold eagles she paid them. They would leave her in a moment for a better offer.
But Hetty could wait. She had money and power once again, even better than in Denver. She would get her revenge, she had no doubts about it. The bitch would come to regret the day that she was born.
Now Hetty laid on with the whip, cutting the girl with greater and greater force. Her lust for blood lent her a growing strength which she turned upon her whore, until her body was whipped to a bloody ruin.
CHAPTER THREE
Red Ass knew that her enemy was in town. But she didn't give a shit. She was out for the big casino, to make the big pile once and for all and then to back away.
It was night, and the burying of the dead sister had taken place. Hands had played with the rumps of her whores from the rear as they stood by the bleak and desolate grave. They had allowed men to reach under their skirts and explore their bottoms. It was all a part of the business, and they needed to make their mark upon the town to get along. They were off to a good start in any event.
That night, Nancy laid in the arms of Red Ass. She licked the vulva running her tongue up and down the heavy cunt lips, all along the outer lips, touching the inner lips and the clitoris. Soon she would lick inside the vagina itself, making her madame go into ecstasy. All thoughts of the strife between them and the fight they had been in was forgotten, at least for the moment, and there was peace and more than peace between them. v "Isn't your enemy, Hetty Malone in town?"
"Yeah, that bitch is here," Red Ass said. "I've had her death threat thrown at me before. Once she hired to have the job done. I took her gunhand captive, and when I began to cut the skin off his prick, he told me all I wanted to know. I cut off his ears and nose and the fingers on his gun hand, then I sent him back to her with the message pinned to his ass that the same thing would happen to her if she tried it again."
Nancy shuddered with dread. Her boss could be one hell of a mean bitch.
"Did she give up?"
"I scared her some, but that slut has too much in her craw to give up on me."
"Why does she hate you so much? I've heard some of the story, but not the whole thing."
"Well, if you really want to know about all of this shit, I'll tell you about it. Ain't a very pretty tale."
"Go on, tell me while I lick your cunt and ass crack."
"Well, here it goes. I came to Denver, when it was the big whore town of the West. Hundreds of whores, it was one big whore city."
"Hetty and a few others ran the place. If you ain't pay them tribute, they would whip the shit out of you. They had their club swinging girls to back up their play. The would bust your head in as soon as look at you. Real mean and no heart at all."
"I was still young, and a little green. I had only worked the small time. Now I was getting into the big time hustle of Denver. I was as happy as a kid."
"I was arrogant and proud even then. Stiff necked. I refused to pay the bitches their tribute. I went to work, fucking like it was gonna go out of style in a week."
"I soon had all of the men eager to shove their cods into my hot tail. I took it up the asshole, down the mouth, and in the hands I fucked and fucked, and fucked. I was raking in the money."
"Of course, it couldn't last. I was soon in bad trouble. I had to fight that bitch Hetty. And she was using that damn whip of hers. She whipped my clothes off, cut me to pieces. She tore up my ass, splitting great bleeding gashes into my butt. She tore up my tits, gave me a set of cross cut notches in them. I held my hands over my boobs, the blood running from under my hands."
"I rolled and writhed under her whip, my body in the mud, groveling in agony at her feet, trying to get at her with my hands, but having no luck."
"Her whores stood around laughing and jeering at me. I swore to get her, to pay her back. But she cut my back open from waist to neck, and split cuts across my back all the way up and down it, from shoulder blades to tail. As she cut up my back, I passed out on her."
"I awoke outside of the town. I was bandaged up, and tar and feathers had been poured over my body over the bandaged wounds. I was in such pain that I couldn't sleep for three days. I tossed and turned in anguish every minute of that time."
"I was cuffed and chained like a con, riding in a wagon. I was now working for Hetty, I was a slave whore. I was being carried off by a pair of slobs to a small town whore house and saloon, in a town near Denver. I was to work for ten per cent of what I took in for a year, to make up to Hetty for my defiance."
"It wasn't until the next day, the second day traveling, that the two bastards conveying me took off the tar and the feathers. They changed the bandages on my injuries. Then they figured that since they had been so nice to me, it behooved me to be nice to them."
"I reckon there are worse pigs, but they're mighty damn sure hard to find. The scum."
"I traveled on for a time, and then I was in that shitwater town."
Nancy interrupted, stopping her licking of the vulva and the anus.
"Were you really her slave for a whole year."
"I'm coming to that part of it child. So you just sit back and listen to my story, and I'll tell you the truth on how it was and how it went for me."
"Anyway, I was there for a few months. Fucking away, with only a few dollars going into my poke. Hating her, and swearing that I would get even with her for it. Knowing that my time would come."
"Once she showed up at that damn place, to pick up her two month's share of the loot. She didn't trust stagelines, or banks, or railroads, or people. So she came herself for her money. She owned that saloon, as well as two places in Denver. She was rich enuff."
"I was sick and tired of being her slave. One night, I broke out of the room I was kept in, with a key I had stolen while sucking on the prick of that dumb ass bouncer. I slit his throat as he slept. He ain't doing no more bouncing no where. I killed the damn pimp bastard too. I kilt the bartender for fun as well."
"Shit."
"Course, none of those killings were discovered, since I filled the place from top to bottom with kerosene and set fire to it. They all figured that the four of us all burned to death in that fire. It was just before sunup, and the place was closed. The whole town was shut down at that hour. Even I, the town whore, had no business at that ungodly hour."
"So it worked. Half the town went up as well. And the other half cleared out afterwards. It was that kind of a town."
"So now you were free," Nancy exclaimed. "What did you do next?"
"I went back to my old stamping grounds in Texas and Montana. I put together a pack of hellions, and when we went to Denver, we were loaded for bear. We were killers, all of us."
"We went in there and let them know that we were there to change things. They shit bricks when they saw us coming. You could smell blood on the wind. It was time for a showdown all right."
"Hetty and the other three bitches who ran the whore strip were all there with their girls to welcome us, bright and early in the day after we hit that town. They was laying for us with clubs and whips, thinking we would be cut up for dog bait."
"We tore up their buffalo asses for them. We hit them with knives and guns. We shot them to hell."
"I gave one big bitch a shotgun blast with birdshot right in the cunt. I gave another bitch the shot in her big tits. Then I clubbed two of them out cold."
"One of my girls had Hetty stripped naked with her knife. She cut her ass up, carving it with short lines. She cut half a dozen slices into one cheek, then half a dozen into the other. She was having herself a hootenanny."
"One of Hetty's thug bitches tried to interfere. My gal cut her ears off, then stripped her naked and cut off her nipples. A real bitch."
"We slaughtered them. We shot and stabbed a dozen of them dead. Others, we put out of the business for good. We had a torture party with the prisoners."
"We took over Hetty's saloons for our party, in the yard out back we went to work on those pigs."
"I hanged one girl up by her tits. I threw two loops of rope over a tree branch and then pulled her until she was standing on her toes. Those big bags of hers were all drawn out like gunny sacks. I pulled her up off the ground, kicking and screaming. She pissed like a treed wildcat. She was just hanging there, kicking out in every direction, her tits getting longer and longer until they were so long they almost ran down to her knees."
"I put two shots with a derringer into her ass. Right in the center of each globe. They bled something fierce. Then we let her down, and ran her ass out of there. She was out of the business with those tits of hers."
"I put two girls together, head to puss. I made them lick each other for our pleasure. I filled their slits with salt first to make it more interesting for all of us. They sure didn't appreciate that little trick. You could hear them screaming their heads off for miles."
"I shot them in the butts with the shotgun, loaded with rock salt. The rock shot sank into their white tails, and you could see the blood swimming under their skins. They made sounds of pain that you wouldn't believe. But they didn't move us any with their cries."
"I don't know if I want to hear the rest of this," commented Nancy.
"You asked for it and you're gonna hear it."
"Mighty gruesome. I think you was kind of cruel on them."
"Cruel. You thinking I gave them more than they asked for. Well, let me tell you that they accounted for about twenty girls in the graveyard in less than two years. Don't you think that was even more cruel, Nancy."
"I had no idea."
"No you didn't. Now keep quiet and let me finish this here story I'm telling you."
"Yeah. So go on with it."
"I took that bitch Hetty and did her ass up good. I cut a scar all over that fat rump of hers. I whipped her tits until pieces hung from them. I cut her belly up, and then I filled her quim with pins. I made her look like a pincushion before I finished with her. A real punishment for the bitch."
"I hung her by the big toes, and filled her cunt up with rocks. I stuffed up her hole, until I had stretched it out so she resembled a pregnant heifer. I filled that big asshole of hers too. I shoved those rocks back into her and rammed them in so deep that she had a swollen up big belly. I made her gain another thirty pounds with all of that rock I filled her holes with."
"It was the gauntlet for her after that. She staggered along, with her toes pulled half out of the sockets, her feet bleeding, her ass half cut off, and her gashes filled up with rocks."
"My gals whupped her ass until it was half torn off. They let that leather and the sticks chop her up for dogbait. She was covered with all of the blood that should have been inside her by the time she was down at the end of the gauntlet. I almost felt sorry for her, except that she was such a dirty scummy bitch."
"We tarred the rest of her bitch pack. We even tarred the insides of their slits, jabbed sticks covered with hot tar up into them, back as well as front. They was sure in one sorry state when we finished with them. I was real thorough with them. I made sure that they would never even dream of coming near me again."
"Sometimes you scare the hell out of people, and that's the end of it. Other times, its a mistake to let off an enemy. I was a fool not to kill that bitch Hetty. But I ain't gonna worry about it now."
Nancy laughed. "You carved her ass, whipped her ass, whipped her meat raw, took over her cash, ran her out of town, burned one saloon, stole two others, and destroyed her reputation. If she lets you get away with that, she deserves to rot in hell for stupidity and cowardice. She has to make her play against you, and you know it too."
"Yeah, I know you're right. But right now, I got other things to worry about. We gotta start making some money. I think the best thing would be for all of us to latch onto something good, like saloon work. We could put on the wildest fucking dance show in all of Bodie. And work the tents after hours. We'll make a deal with one of these owners, for half of the extra profits. We'll build up fast, and then we'll open up our own place."
"We could find a backer to open a place for us."
"No, its best to own something outright. When you work for someone it's, one thing, but when you work for yourself you don't want no money man telling you what the hell you can do, and reminding you of where the money is coming from."
"I think that bitch will make trouble for you wherever you open."
"That's why I taught all of you gals how to shoot. The first thing we're gonna do is outfit ourselves with some real iron. Some cut down .45s, and maybe a few Smith and Wesson specials. And lots of shotgun."
"Bodie is a bad town, but it'll be fucked good by the time we finish with it."
The two whores talked about the town all through the night, as they sucked each other off. Red Ass spanked Nancy, a bottom blasting she had owed her since the trail. She was confident that she and her whores could take care of themselves. Especially when she did some recruiting among the locals.
CHAPTER FOUR
The hard faced gunslinger shoved the young Mex whore's face into his smelly armpit.
"Lick it out, you dirty bitch."
She gagged at the stench emanating from his unclean body. He laughed at her disgust and kicked her in the crotch. She doubled up, and he lashed out with a hard right to her face, knocking three teeth out. She went down, gagging and coughing up blood. He kicked her around the sawdust covered room from pillar to post quite literally.
The bartender tried to ignore the gunman kicking the shit out of the poor whore he had forced to work for him. He wanted no part of trouble with The Yaqui River Kid. The Kid was as vicious as they come. He had recruited a half a dozen frightened whores making them work for him. His whip kept them in line.
Now the whip went into play. It cut through the dress of the girl, tearing bloody scars into her tits, her thighs, and her ass. The kid whipped her mercilessly, making the tender body squirt blood from numerous cuts and gashes. He split open a series of weals in her arse, making the cuts criss cross in diagonal slashes from her hips to the inner thighs.
"I told you before Cloris, that I'll have your ass if you don't listen to me."
He ended the whipping by giving her a cut on the face. She screamed, terrified of being scarred.
"That cut will go away gal, but if'n you get under my skin again, I'll cut that face of yours to pieces with my whip, so that even the lowest greaser or nigger will not want to touch you." Among other failings the Kid was prejudiced against every race under the sun except his own. It made the blood of the half Mexican bartender boil to hear this, and to witness the way the bastard cut up on poor Cloris, who was a damn good kid.
Across the street, in the general merchandising and import store that sold at fantastically inflated prices under the management of Ben Brice, the girls of Red Ass Alice, were being fitted for new outfits.
Her girls were fitted with red whore dresses. He had a stock of them in his store, his stock in trade with all of the dance hall princesses and whores filling up the town. She dressed her girls in the tightest outfits that she could squeeze them into. And there were ten of them now, a few new recruits already picked up.
"Come on," she said to the proprietor, who was good naturedly measuring and fitting every girl himself. "Let's not take all day with this. Just get these gals into these dresses and we'll be taking off."
The dirty old man reached down the front of the underwear of one of the girls, his hands roaming in her hairy cunt pelt.
"You are a randy old goat. Well, have your fun, you old bastard."
The old man chuckled and ran his fingers up the soft inside of a luscious bottom. He goosed his fingertips into the pussy, and then into the anal ring.
"If you was to let me suck on the pussies of all of these pretty young things, I'd give you a good discount on all of this merchandise you're taking."
"How much, you old buzzard?"
"Ten percent, you luscious thing."
Red Ass ripped open her dress and popped out her tits. She put his hands on the knockers and let him feel them up all over.
"Make that twenty per cent and you can lick me too."
"Alright, and I want you first."
He took her into the fitting stall and put his mouth on her cunt. He ran his tongue up and down the vulva for a few minutes, then inside her pussy. She gave him a lot of flesh to feel up and fondle. He had his money's worth, all he could handle.
Red Ass dressed her girls in gowns with the bodies, torn away, letting their tits spill out stark naked. She strapped holsters on them, filled with deadly iron.
"We can't walk the streets with our tits hanging out." complained Kitty.
"Sure we can. We can do anything I say that we can. Let them watch our titties bounce and sway. Then randy bastards will be dreaming about our knockers."
Big Annie spun the barrel of her colt pistol. She twirled it and did a few fast draws with it.
"I see that I taught you well," Alice said. "You handle that almost as well as any professional gunny."
"It beats hell out of that little bitty dance hall gal's garter gun I been using. Anybody who shits with us will get shitted on right back."
"That's the spirit."
Alice gave Annie a crack on her soft bottom. She held up the front of the dress and put the blushing stockboy's mouth right on the hairy quim.
"Taste that muff boy. The finest stuff that money can buy. You tell all your friends about it. We'll be happy to initiate anyone who ain't indulging yet."
The whores laughed. The proprietor of the robbery palace ate out their pussies one by one. When the shopping and fitting had ended, they went out to promenade the streets. They were dressed all in fancy red, guns strapped to their sides, and every eye staring at them. Their tits bobbed and bounced.
A bold, handsome miner walked up to Nancy and took a feel of her exposed tits. He pinched up the nipples and pulled on them, stretching out the tit, which he popped into his mouth. He was hungry for more of it.
There was a fight in progress in the churned up mud in the middle of the street. A screaming, terror stricken young man, only about eighteen years old, was pinned under a laughing, brawny killer, trying to rip up his face with the jagged edge of a broken whiskey bottle.
Annie laughed, whipping out her gun.
"Watch this shooting."
She fired three shots, blowing apart the whiskey bottle and the hand that held it."
The screaming killer with his shattered hand looked at the ruin and screamed in horror and agony. The boy threw him off and rolled on top of him. He dug a knife out of the burly killer's belt and plunged it into his fat stomach.
"That sure is one hell of a way to end a fight," Alice said nonchalantly.
The boy waved to them in gratitude. He was lucky to be alive, and these wonderful whores had saved his life. Other whores looked at them in envy and appreciation. They went their own way, took care of themselves, and took no shit.
In the saloon where Yaqui River Kid was still whipping the shit out of his girl, she was about played out.
The Kid looked around the room for some way to end the massacre with extreme cruelty. He finally settled on the spittoon. He shoved her face down into it, making her lick it out. He turned it over the top of her head, covering her with slimy filth.
"I'll see you later tonight. Make sure you have some money for me, you slut."
The bartender looked down at the poor girl, drenched in blood, her clothes slashed to ribbons. He took her into his backroom and nursed her tenderly. She was a nice young kid, and she deserved better than the Yaqui River Kid, a bastard if ever there was one.
He had seen the commotion in the streets, the new troop of proud, self reliant whores, tough and vicious.
"What you need," he said to her, "is some form of protection, Cloris. You need some help to keep that bastard off your back."
"Who the hell would help me against him. He'd kill the first man to lift a hand for me."
"I'm not talking about men. What you should do is pack it in with that new mob of whores that Red Ass Alice brought into town. They're tough as all hell, and a lot of girls are figuring on joining up with them. If you was in tight with that bunch, the Kid wouldn't be able to bully you."
It made sense. The bartender went to fetch the leader of the bare tit whores. Alice was enraged when she saw the condition of the girl, and listened to her story.
"Honey, we surely don't want you staying with that bastard. In fact, we don't want a scummy skunk like that around here at all. You find the rest of the girls and put the proposition to them. Throw in with me. I'll teach you how to take care of yourselves, how to shoot. I'll keep the dogbait off your backs, and you'll be safe from that breed."
It was all she had hoped for, a miracle. Of course, she threw in. And the other five did as well.
That night, Alice had twenty girls working for her, in two tents, and a dozen small crib tents. There were lines of fucking and sucking clients, stimulated and excited by their deeds in front of every tent. And the money was rolling in.
Her mouth on the cock of a tall miner, sucking his big shaft in and out of her mouth, while he kneaded her tits, she made her plans. First thing would be to get into one of the big saloons. A competitor of Hetty would do just fine. With all of the business she was generating, and all of the excitement she was causing, she could just about command her own deal.
Suddenly, there was a loud commotion, and the sounds of screams and curses. She had been expecting trouble.
She dropped the prick out of her mouth, voicing her apologetic sorrow to the customer. Then she was out with a shotgun in her arms and a six shooter strapped to her naked, sweat covered hip. There were three gunmen, growling and cursing, covered by her two guards with Henry repeater rifles. One of them, an ugly, evil faced bastard with a fancy holster rig, had Cloris by the arm.
A dozen girls soon had them covered. Rifles and six shooters pointed at them menacingly. The man threatening Cloris still blustered and raged, but his two sidekicks were nervous and scared as hell.
"Who the fuck are you," demanded Alice. "Who is he Cloris? Is this turd the scum who calls himself the Yaqui River Kid? Tell me, gal."
"Yes," Cloris answered in a tremulous, frightened, quavering voice. "This is him. He says I have to go back with him, or he'll kill me."
"I want my other five whores too," demanded the enraged gunman. "Hand them over or I'll kill you all."
Alice laughed, amazed at his audacious stupidity.
"Boy, your killing days are over and gone. You're gonna be sorry that you were stupid enough to come down here like this." Then her voice became authoritarian, hard, commanding. "Cloris, get away from that pig."
Cloris tore away from him. The Kid's hand whipped to his gun butt. Annie fired a shot, right through his hand. A half dozen shots tore his hat away, threw up the dirt at his feet.
Now he was convulsed with fear. All of his braggadocio melted away, as he fearfully remembered the fate of Bill Swinson. In the distance, he could hear a wild dog pack howling away.
"Lets kill the bastard," demanded Nancy.
"I think a little lesson would be enough," Alice replied. "Let's see if the scum likes the feel of the whip."
One of his gunnies tried to run. Bullets riddled his buttocks, and the man went down screaming.
"Come on, let's get their guns and strip them down."
A dozen lusty whores swarmed over them. Their clothes were torn off, their guns torn away. They went down, bitten, punched, stomped, clawed.
Nancy grabbed the Kid by the cock and pulled him into the air, his torso straining at his distended, stretched out member as he drummed the ground. He tried to pull her down, but hands stamped down on his good hand, crushing the flesh, grinding his fingers.
He was lifted to his feet, the whores beating shit out of him. Big Annie waded in, her voice loud in the rebel yell. She smashed his belly, his face. Hammering fists cracked his nose, blackened his eyes, knocked out his teeth.
Another girl pistol whipped his two sidekicks. She was one of the whores who had left the Kid, and she relished her work. She knocked out their teeth, cracked ribs and cheek bones and jaws. Blood ran from their cracked jaws, from their crushed faces. They stared through glassy eyes, as their fingers were bent back and cracked.
"Let's take this bastard out on the prairie and leave him for the buzzards."
The girls were in the mood for blood, and they couldn't be stopped. They dragged the naked Kid by his feet and cock, crushing and kneading his balls, wringing them from hand to hand, one girl half crushing them and then passing them on to another girl.
Leather whips, strips of harness strapping, rein lines, clubs, pounded upon his body. His face was whipped to bloody gore. His ears were chopped up and half torn away. His eyebrows were split open and torn apart, his nose was split down the middle right across the bridge. His lips were mashed, whipped until a strip hung from his upper lip, half knocked loose. He was dragged out of town, his blood staining the dust. They brought him over to a giant cactus plant and shoved him into it. Hundreds of sharp cactus needles pierced his body. They nailed into him everywhere. One girl shoved more of the slivers into his cock and balls.
They scraped out the inside of his asshole with raw leather, then shoved a cactus burr up his tail. Blood flowed out of his bunghole, giving him a red tail hanging down his legs.
They hung him from a tree by his balls. Nancy ran a loop of rope over his scrotum. She cinched it up tight. His broken body still had enough vitality left when he saw what they meant to do to him to put up a fight. He almost strangled Kitty with his crushed, bloody hands before they could tear him off. Nancy tore away one of the partially dislodged pieces of his right ear. He went down under kicks and blows.
Up into the air the girls hauled him, the rope cinching up on his nuts in a noose that almost killed him with the pain. It was as if his bones had been cracked apart inside his body and the marrow spilled out. It was as if the nerve endings had been set on fire, and his skin then flayed off.
They let him come down, his genitals ballooning with the crushing congestion, his nuts bunched up and stretched unnaturally far from his groin.
They were not finished. Up into the air he went once again, giving loud complaint to his agony, and the girls laughing at his plight. The six he had abused were the most vengeful of the lot, and they took over the task of raising and lowering his body by the testicles.
Shit and piss and blood poured out of the three orifices of his body. He sweated slime, and foam ran from his mouth as richly as from the jaws of a rabid dog. When they finally ended the torture, he was half mad with anguish and fear.
They left him there, feeling confident that they would not see him in the town again. He was a broken, fallen figure. And as they left, they could hear the howls of a pack of the vicious mongrel dogs, coming in for the kill. They made no move to stop the wolfpack from claiming its share of the kill.
CHAPTER FIVE
Apache Jane whipped her knife across the eyes of the guard holding her in her room. He screamed, his sightless, forever blinded eyes exploding in a spray of blood and pulp. The fluid burst out through the rips in the eyeballs.
Jane lunged for the corridor. One of Hetty's lieutenants met her with a whip. The tall, evil eyed girl lashed out, splitting open Jane's tits right over the bodice of her dress. Jane lunged in, ducking under the next frenzied blow. She screamed out the Apache war cry as she cut her knife into the throat of her tormentor. One slash disemboweled the girl for good measure.
Jane shoved the body against the wall, death already showing in the clouded eyes. Jane stuck her hand into the tear in the abdomen and ripped out the guts. She cruelly and barbaric-ally tore out the guts, yanking out yards of the slimy ropes of intestine. Then she went out the doorway, tugging them after her, spilling them out of the convulsive body.
She slid down the banister. The staring, horror stricken bartender and the drunken gunman, who was guard of the place, made no move to stop her. They were transfixed with horror by the deed she had committed. They had never seen the like of it done by a girl.
Several hours later, Hetty raged in vain, as all attempts to locate the bitch were in vain. She whipped the soft and vulnerable bodies of her girls, enraged beyond words, taking it out on their tender flesh. She split open gashes in tits and buttocks, made gashes bleed and cut up tender thighs.
"You stupid bastards," she raged at her men. "Can't you find one dumb, half red Injun bitch."
"She could be anywhere by now," explained one of her guntoters. "She could be twenty miles out of Bodie in any direction by now."
"You dumb, dumb bastards. Do I have to do all of your thinking as well as my own. She's with that slut, Red Ass."
The man looked thunderstruck, then the idea came over him like the dawning of his first thought. You could see the idea filling the vacuum of his mind.
"That's a good idea, boss. I'll bet you're absolutely right."
"Come on, we're gonna see that bitch right now." Gathering up her gunmen, Hetty went off to look for the bitch who had cut up one of her girls and one of her gunhands. She wanted Apache Jane dead.
Jane was with Red Ass all right. And they met the gun party with a reception of ready lead in cool hands. The hundreds of gawking miners and driftwood scum lined the streets and hung out of windows to watch the explosion.
"What the hell do you want," Alice yelled. Her tone was insolent and belligerent. You could sense the swaggering contempt she felt for her enemy.
"I want that bitch Jane," Hetty hissed. She looked like a rattler ready to strike.
Jane stepped out from behind Alice, cool and mocking defiance in her face. Her tits in the topless outfit affected by Alice's whores, were covered with bite marks. She put an arm around Alice, who gave her a friendly licking suck up and down her knockers.
"You can't have her, she works for me now."
"She killed two of my people. I'm gonna take her."
"Remember what happened the last time we fought it out? You're lucky I let you live."
"I have all of these guns with me this time. I'll kill you and every one of your sluts."
Alice pointed to her own girls, guns ready for action. "I got the odds in my favor. My girls will cut you to pieces, shoot you full of holes. We'll just blow you and this pack of gutter trash away."
Her gunmen bristled at the words that this bitch had chosen to describe them. But Hetty's men also noted that the odds were against them. They could wind up very, very dead.
"You can't beat my boys with your whores. They're pros, they'll shoot up your bunch with their eyes closed."
"My girls shoot with their eyes open. And they hit what they aim at."
"You won't bluff me. I'm gonna take back what's mine."
"I'm the one you want dead," Alice said. "Maybe there's a way we can settle this by ourselves. Just the two of us."
"What do you mean?"
"We'll fight a duel. A whip duel. The winner will be the one left standing."
"Damn you, you think you can beat me with a whip. It's my own weapon. I can't be beat."
"Then you should do all right. We'll fight it out in the center of the street with bullwhips. You want me dead as bad as anyone ever wanted to see some enemy dead. You must lie awake at nights planning it. You already tried to hire it done. You must dream of accomplishing the job yourself. Well, now is your chance. Let's see what you're made of, you slut."
The challenge could not be turned down. The whole damn town was watching. And Hetty wanted this chance. She had dreamed so often, so many times, of slowly whipping her opponent to death. To kill Alice with the whip, to chop her up and finish her off.
"You got yourself a fight, and you're gonna live just about long enough to regret that you talked me into this fight. I'm gonna kill you nice and slow. I'm gonna take my time finishing you off, you scum."
They squared off in the center of the street, in front of the Golden Garter. They were stark naked, the men eager for the sight of blood on torn and sweating female flesh. Their flesh rippled, and the sweat stood out on their skin. Tits bounced and buttocks rolled with every step. They were one hell of a horny sight, as one miner put it.
"You sure about this," Nancy said. "This could be your finish if she's so good."
"I've thought that this day might come. She always was stiff necked about her whip skill. I remember that whip of hers tearing up my flesh. I can still feel it. All of that old hate ain't gone from me, it still simmers in my guts. Now I'm gonna feed this whip to her and make her eat it. I'm gonna show her what I've got going for me, and she's gonna regret the lesson in the little time she has left to live."
Hetty was talking to one of her gunnies. "Jake, I want you to lay off in the top room with a rifle. If it looks like I'm losing, you put a bullet into that bitch. You put it right through her brain."
Jake grinned. He knew his boss wouldn't risk her neck in a fair fight. He would have lost respect for her if she had.
The two women squared off. Alice was determined and silent. Hetty's face was devilish, her mouth twisted up into a cruel smile. The lust for blood and agony was in her face. She was a fearsome sight, a wilder looking thing then the mad dogs roaming the streets.
She lashed out with the whip. Balanced carefully in the sticky mud, Alice backed off and swerved her body just enough to avoid it.
She retaliated with a lightning fast crack. The whip cut into Hetty's right tit, right through the saucer of the nipple, splitting the corona.
Hetty screamed and backed off. The whip slashed over the soft rolls of her belly fat, gashing the whiteness. Suddenly, Hetty remembered in her hatred, that the scar on her ass was clearly revealed for all to see. In her vengeful madness she had forgotten all about it. And in their desire to see blood and death, the onlookers were taking little notice of it.
Hetty cracked her whip forehand and backhand, making Alice keep clear to protect her face. But such tactics could not hold her off forever. She came in again, lashing out at the legs. Hetty stood her ground. The whips sang through the air, slicing flesh, coiling around the straining bodies.
They heaved and panted, dripping sweat and blood. Stinging, bleeding welts dotted their tits, thighs, bellies.
Hetty took a cut on the right hip. The whip split deep into her flesh, gouged a ragged bloody weal, and the long tip looped around her body, splitting a new valley into the white soil of her buttocks. The flesh heaved and quaked around the whip cut.
Alice took upon her forearm a shot meant instead for her eyes. The tip slipped over her arm, and cut a gash into her face. Alice felt the blood run down her cheek.
This enraged her. Dodging low, getting out of a soft bed of the mud filling the street, she cut into Hetty's quim with a perfectly placed blow. Hetty lunged forward, her back arching in reaction. A backhanded return by Alice ripped her bleeding torso from neck to hip. Another blow caught her around the waist as Alice stepped in, and spun her around.
Alice rained blows upon her back, splitting open her gored flesh down to the bone. Hetty backed off, trying to regain her balance. Alice flipped out the whip and coiled it around Hetty's ankle. Hetty went down in the mud. She rolled about frantically, the whip chopping her up. She waited for the shot from the Golden Garter, her only chance now.
The gunman, Jake took careful aim. As he readied himself for the shot, Nancy, in a room across the street in the Red Ace Saloon put a bullet right between his eyes. Almost simultaneously Annie put a second bullet into his temple. He fell dead to the floor, not knowing what had happened to him.
"Your little ambush has misfired," crowed Alice in triumph. "Now I'll cut you to pieces."
She cut into Hetty's arm, ripping the shoulder open with half a dozen slashing blows. The flesh was mangled and lacerated, and the whip slipped from her limp hand as Alice flipped the whip around her forearm and twisted, tugging with all of her strength to tear the whip from her grip.
She whipped the ass. She cracked open the cleavage, the whip splitting the cleavage line from above the anal ring to the vulnerable vagina, filling the space between the ass globes with blood. Alice tore the globes apart like ripe fruit. She opened them up from side to side and top to bottom. She divided the heavy globes up into sections, quartered the sections, divided them into many pieces, all split and torn, pieces of flesh almost ripped away.
She flipped the body over. She whipped the quim. She tore the vulva, making it bleed. Blood ran from the oozing cunt lips. Alice tore the hairy pelt apart. Blood covered the beaver pelt. Tufts of hair were torn off when the quim was wealed and lacerated.
The tits were whipped to pieces. Alice worked on a deep gash in the right breasts. She split the corona of the nipple right in the middle. She whipped the gashes until the tit was torn almost in twain. The lower half of the pendulous breast sagged down upon Hetty's belly, split almost down to the torso, the breasts almost ready to be torn from the body.
Alice saved Hetty's face for the last. She whipped the features. The tip of the whip sliced into the cheek just below the ear. It tore a path across the mouth, turning the lips to torn mushy pulp, knocking out the front teeth with the fury of the blow. Another cut split open the flesh on the chin, splitting both lips in half. Alice lashed out once more, tearing the right eye out of its socket. She split the nose in half for a finisher.
"Your boss is finished fighting, I guess. You can take her out of here and see she's tended to."
Alice turned her back on the gory, disfigured thing, walking away, feeling just the slightest bit sick to her stomach and ready to puke all over the street.
There was no cheering, only a heavy silence hanging over the town. The hard eyed men who made up the population of the West in its wilder days was used to gore and brutality. A fight in which eyes were gouged, lips bitten off, and ears torn away, was commonplace. But they were shocked to silence by this gory woman fight with whips.
Two of her girls helped the shaken Alice. Alice was certain that Hetty was finished. She could not survive such wounds. In any case, Alice knew that Hetty would never be what she had been. She was finished as a leader and a terror as well.
Her boys took good care of her. They wanted the work, and she paid well. In addition, they had the run of the sluts who worked the Golden Garter.
A doctor was fetched. Contrary to the expectations of Alice, Hetty did not die. She began to slowly knit together and as the days went by, it became apparent that she would live.
But that night Alice had her victory to celebrate. After the shock of the fight wore off the town of Bodie rallied to her side of the issue. All except for the gunnies, the hard bitter killers who saw her as a threat to them, and thought of how she had diminished their numbers.
Alice had no intention of running a crusade against the gunmen. She was content to leave well enough alone. But to them she was a very real and very deadly threat, and before the night was over, the urge to destroy her had hardened in many a heart. Minds were at work, planning the deed.
That night, Apache Jane shared a bed with Alice. The half wild girl was a tiger in the bed. She sucked Alice's vulva, washing the vagina and membrane, while her hands kneaded and manipulated pleasure into the big nipples. Jane blew her hot breath up into Alice's pussy. She sucked the piss out of Alice, cleaned her anus, chewed every inch of her sore body, tonguing and blowing upon it, making the flesh catch fire. She was the wildest girl that Alice had ever sacked down with.
They played 69 as ferociously as two mountain lions. Fingers reamed in and out of moist assholes. They slapped each other upon the cheeks until the skin blazed with heat, then sucked the fire out.
They mashed together, heads trapped between pumping thighs as the vaginal juices gushed out. They drank all of the flowing come down, their excitement and desire for one another steadily rising and rising.
They bit and gnawed. They clawed and slapped. Alice took Jane over her lap, and slapped her tail. The bouncing, rippling cheeks moved in response to the thigh twisting, belly pumping writhing that Jane went into upon Alice's lap. Her body was in fluid motion, a wild thing, as quick and as loose as a flowing flooded river.
They rolled off the bed on the floor, back and forth still going at each other with a rising intensity.
Alice was worn and weary, her body marred by the play of Hetty's whip upon it. But she became fired up by the passion of the whore. She met her savage lovemaking with still more savage sex play. She covered Jane's pointed breasts with a pattern of bite marks so thick that the bites merged one into the other.
Jane was soon weary of the cunt sucking. She curled up into a ball between Alice's legs, her face buried in the gash. She sucked cunt, wallowed in it, and as the last spurting of juice filled her mouth, she went to sleep with the meat still to her lips.
They slept in this manner celebrating the victory over their enemy. Hetty passed a hideous night close to the threshold of death's door. She came as close to death as she could and still lived.
CHAPTER SIX
There were killers and claim jumpers everywhere in Bodie. Men were murdered for a dollar, for nothing at all. Some of the killers worked out of Hetty's place, under her orders. It was to these merciless men that she turned in her hour of extremity. As her torn-and scarred body slowly healed, she plotted her vengeance. Looking into her mirror, she beheld a face of sickening, grotesque ugliness. Lips split apart and then sewn back together in ill fitting match. An eye gone, scars running all over her patchwork face. She was ruined for life. She knew that no man would ever touch her again unless she was paying him too.
She cursed her luck, her foolishness in taking up the challenge. Better death than this mocking semblance of life she was reduced to.
But she would have her revenge. Hiding her face under a black hood, she still ruled her empire from the Golden Garter. She hired more men, and offered free board and drinks and ass to the worst of the killers of Bodie. The most unpredictable and unreliable of trash she took in under her roof as if they were her long lost relatives. She was safe under her own roof, and she never ventured out, staying to her chambers, and plotting her revenge, a spider in the center of its web. Her disfigurement and defeat always goading her, her mangled face a constant mocking of her impotent power, she waited her chance.
She needed a ramrod, a top gun and a cool brain to head up and ride herd upon the scum she hired and used. She took in Reno Jack, a cruel and heartless killer, an assassin without conscience. For money he had once killed his own brother.
Now he rode herd for her. He was smart, tough, and without nerves. He was the only one not just a little bit scared shitless of the deadly whores. He feared nothing, the scourge of tuberculosis marking his days and letting him know with every cough that his cards were marked and his plays numbered. And so he had no compunctions and no fears.
Alice and her girls had taken over half of the Black Stallion Saloon and Gambling Place. It was a big place, even bigger than the one owned by Hetty. There were always crowds there to see the naked, dancing whores. Alice and her bitches danced stark naked, their cunts revealed and available to any hand reaching out to touch and grasp. They allowed themselves to be pawed and slobbered over freely. Hands went up their pussies, fingers cored their assholes. Their tits were sucked and jiggled.
They danced wild, obscene dances. Cunts socking and snapping out at the pack. Their legs kicking out, pussies wild. They were always ready to take a cock into their mouths if they liked the gent it was attached to. They would suck him dry, just drink the come out of him in front of his buddies.
Drinks poured into them and hands wandered over the not forbidden terrain. They took the cocks and played hard and soft with them. Alice once took two cocks into her mouth, cheeks bulging with hot prick, right in front of the whole place, and sucked them clean out.
When there was trouble, there were the guns of the whores to put it right. Nobody dared to mess around with them.
After the shifts at the Black Stallion there was the after hours work, the work they knew the best. The money poured in, and the legs spread in wild welcome.
In a short period of time, Alice was ready to start up her own place. She had the money and the credit for it. So it was goodbye to the Black Stallion, and hello to the place she named THE FUCK HOLE. Even Bodie was aghast. You did anything at all, but you did not put up a sign with those words upon it over the doorway of your place. But there it was, in letters three feet high. The few decent families in town were shocked by this even more than by the constant killings.
Nevertheless, the name stood. The other whorehouses and saloons were soon following the lead, hoping to hold on to their share of the business of the town. If dirty words were the going thing, they could provide that as well.
The Fuck Hole was the wildest place in Bodie from the first day it opened. Upon balconies in the side walls, two gunmen sat with shotguns overseeing and maintaining order.
It was not easy in such a riotous place. The girls in their fancy red dresses with their bobbing boobs hanging out, offering free handfuls all around, the miners hungry for their meat. Naked girls dancing on the tables. The men constantly trouping upstairs with their prizes.
"This is it," Alice gloated. "This is the place that will make us all rich."
Nancy threw an arm around her waist and planted a nibbling kiss on each of her nipples.
"You're doing all right. But as we take in more and more we're gonna become targets for every other stud in this hellhole who figures we're dipping into his pot."
"Let them rant and shout. We can handle the fucks."
"I think we might be in for more than even we can take care of."
Across the street, in her own place, scarfaced Hetty Malone adjusted the black hood covering her head and stared at the riot across the street in sheer, unadulterated hatred. Her foe was prospering. She wanted the bitch's blood.
She rang her bell. In a few minutes her ramrod, Reno Jack, was standing before her.
"Jack those sluts seem to be raking in the money faster than they can spend it."
"Yeah, boss, it do seem that way. Ain't it a shame, though. They have to send their money out on the stage same as everybody else. And stages are so dangerous."
"We do understand each other."
He pondered for a moment. "The last fellas who tried to hold up the stage were left by some of these boys head down over a slow fire, Apache Injun style."
"They was stupid enough to leave witnesses. You won't leave anybody behind that can point the finger. Do you understand?"
"Sure I do. I'll need about five men. No more and no less. I know the ones I want. They can all keep a tight tongue in their mouths."
"Good. I got my eyes who keep me informed about things. The next stage that goes out will have fifty thousand dollars of their money aboard. And I'm gonna hit it."
Her spirits were coming back. A hand was coming up her way. It was about time. She would soon begin to get her own back over her enemy.
She ordered one of her girls, Julie, brought to her. The girl was a new one, a stupid farm girl who had run away. A fresh faced young thing of sixteen. And Hetty wanted some fun little bitch.
Julie was brought in. Apple round cheeks, freckles, innocent and frightened blue eyes.
"I see you're going along pretty good on your first day. You took on five men, two with your mouth."
"Yes, ma'am. And I didn't like it none, the way I thought I would. Especially taking on those men with my mouth."
She grimaced with disgust. Her hand rubbed over her belly.
"So I see. You refused to take on four more customers after that. Not so good. Here, you gotta do what you're told to do. You gotta hustle it and take in all that shiny gold stuff."
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Sorry don't help things. I gotta initiate you to discipline."
Hetty brought out her whip from under her bed. The young girl shivered with dread, her eyes filling up with tears.
"You ain't gonna whup me with that thing, are you?"
"I sure am, gal. Just like your paw whopped you at home. The reason you ran away to the big city to make some easy money."
Hetty laughed at the naivete of the girl, and her fear. She stalked over to her and grasped the bodice of her dress. With one jerk she tore it away, exposing large, pendulous breasts, young girl tits with pink, fresh nipples.
"Nice stuff. You got what it takes to get along, after you learn your place."
Hetty stepped back and uncoiled her whip. The girl regarded it with the fearful gaze of a trapped prairie rat watching a rattler ready to strike.
She swung it through the air. It coiled upon the girl's back, breaking skin and sending a fearful spasm of burning, cutting pain through her.
"Eieeaaaaa. You're killing me."
Her hands flew to her back, to cover the scourges blood line. Hetty took this opportunity to swing the whip lightly, but cuttingly, over the tits, forehand and backhand stroke. She cut grooves into the bouncing bags, above and below the nipples.
The girl flung her hands over her breasts to protect them. She fled into a corner of the room. Hetty pursued her. She slashed a stroke from shoulder to opposite hip, and then from the other shoulder to the duplicate hip, cutting a red X into the girl's back.
The poor girl fell to the floor, writhing and trying to protect herself. Hetty lashed at her, cutting her shoulders and flanks. She tore off the remainder of the girl's garment and struck at her ass. She cut weal after weal into the buttocks, making the mounds shake and tremble under the swing of her whip. Blood covered her ass, and flowed down her long legs. The whip traveled down the legs, struck crisscrossing lines into the calves, then moved up the back again, splitting open skin, slashing bloody cuts. Hetty exposed the girl's torso pulling her hands away. She whipped the tits, the belly, the ribcage. She struck until the girl slumped unconscious in a welter of her own blood, slashed to ribbons.
Hetty dropped the whip and dragged the girl over to her bed. She threw the bloody body over her bed, not caring about the staining of the sheets. She spread the legs, dipping into the ripe young pussy. Her fiendish, malevolent laughter filled the lavish room. She knew what she was going to do to the girl next.
She opened a drawer and took out her pincushion. She selected a long sharp pin and probed the vulva lips with it. Finding the spot she wanted, she thrust right through the lip membrane, angling her thrust so that the pin came out through the wall of the vagina.
The girl stirred, but did not come to. Hetty next stabbed into the other side of the vulva. Again she stabbed in deep and pierced it through to the vagina wall. Then she stabbed the girl again and again, giving her an even, well ordered pattern of pins thrust into her vulva.
The girl awakened to new, intense, stabbing pain. Agony flooded her sex organs. She looked down at her pierced body, unable to believe at first that the fiendish woman was actually doing this terrible atrocity to her body.
"Aiiieeeeeee. You're killing me. Help."
Hetty overpowered the kicking, struggling, maddened girl, binding and gagging her. She then set to work on the nipples. She stabbed the pins into the small pointed tips, in and out of the skin, shoving and stabbing, twisting the pins around inside the skin, rotating and corkscrewing them.
The body was in convulsions, the eyes rolled in their sockets. The evil Madam continued her torture of the nipples, crushing them with tweezers, squeezing and squirting out the hot blood, from the sieved nipple tips. When she had finished, the girl was almost out of her mind with her suffering, in a state of deep shock.
Hetty used smelling salts to bring her around. She wanted her prey conscious and frisky for the next little bit of fun.
"You seem to have an aversion to sucking on things, little girl. Well, in this business you have to get over those kinds of squeamishness, and real fast. You're gonna be sucking on a lot of things. Like for example, my glory hole. I want you to put your mouth on it and lick it all night long. If you stop, I'll take a cigar and fry those big tits of yours. Now, I'm gonna take off that gag I put in your mouth. And when I do, you had better start sucking on me."
The girl understood all right. She had no choice in the matter. Her flesh wracked with horrible, pain, her wounds still bleeding, she was mounted on the face by her torturer who took up a seat, bearing down with all of her weight. The stench of her ass filled the nostrils of the girl, the reek churning up her stomach, making her brain sick. Hetty moved her big ass around on the girl's face. The kid was shocked by the sight of the whip scars on her tormenter's ass. But she dared not ask about them.
She licked the vulva lips, her mouth finding the clitoris, a huge, and red button, prominent and easy to discover.
She licked and sucked on it, her stomach turning over. On and on the sucking went, the minutes slipping into hours.
Pain began to claw at her once again. Hetty could not avoid the opportunity to inflict still more suffering upon her trapped slave. She kneaded and churned up the tits with her hands, wringing the white ivory flesh through her claws, squirting out the blood from the welts.
She began to prod and finger the wounds. She stabbed a finger in, indenting it deep into the laceration. She ran her finger, nail stabbing sharply, along the length of the weal, and then back again, gloating at the tossing and jerking of the body under her, which was forced to continue sucking at her gash, despite all its anguish.
She was having a great time. She kept on poking and stabbing and the minutes had become many hours. The body under her ass was coated with beads of sweat. The skin crawled and twitched.
Across the street, an entirely different type of sex scene was taking place. Hetty's enemy, Alice, was putting on a show with Big Annie, Apache Jane, and Nancy. Many of the dudes in that town had never seen some girls really tear into each other with their hands and mouths.
The four of them shook their hairy cunts out at the wild reveling, drunken horde of miners and drifters. They shoved fingers in and out of each other's gashes. They sucked tit, rubbed hip and thighs into sweaty flank and belly, sucked and bit, pulled hair and clawed. They all came together in one straining, biting, sucking, licking mass. Bodies strained to rub every inch simultaneously into the other three bodies. They ran hands through hair, stroked nipples hot, sucked armpits moist. They shoved entire hands up into wide open, creaming holes.
They shook, trembled, vibrated. Their flesh rolled and shook so violently that they appeared to be an ocean of flesh in movement. It was the most thrilling sight that any of the men had ever seen, and their throats were dry as they gazed upon the orgy.
The four women wound up on the floor, in the throes of exploding climaxes. Orgasm after orgasm wracked them. They got into the position of sixty-nine, every girl eating another, their bodies locked together, their flesh undulating and quivering.
In addition to being a hell of a lot of fun, it was great for business. They had a full house the next night, hundreds crowding in, expecting to see an even wilder show than the last one. They were not disappointed, either. It was the wildest stag show east of San Francisco. Some of the men shot off in their pants, watching it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alice was on her knees, servicing a client with her mouth, when the news arrived. The news came in the form of the stage that had left town less than two hours ago. It was carrying a cargo of dead men, and the gold and cash was gone. Despite three shotgun riders, the stage had been hit, and half a million was gone.
Alice and her girls went into paroxysms of hatred and rage. All of the money they had shipped, almost seventy thousand. The effort, the filthy work they had gone through to get it. Now it was gone.
Hundreds of angry men rode out of town, searching for the killers. But they found no trace. They assumed that the men were long gone, trying to get out of the area. Actually, the men were back in town, in the Golden Garter. They were Hetty's men, and they had done a good job for her.
"I guess this is what you wanted boss," Reno said, opening up the box in the privacy of her strongroom. He took out a bag of gold dust and opened it up. He laughed as the golden flakes spilled from his hands.
"You did a good job for me. Well worth your share."
"This money is not what you really wanted boss, I know that. You have more than the contents of this whole box. It's revenge you want. I got me an idea of my own on the way back here."
"What kind of an idea."
"I figure we could lay the blame for this on those gals. Make it look like they done it. We could plant the box and some of the bags. Maybe even some of the gold. When that happens, the people will just swarm all over them. They'll want that gold back, and they won't be able to tell where it is. You could get them all turned over to you, promising to find the gold."
"That is an idea."
"You could even hand back some of the loot, saying that one of them talked. They'll swallow it for sure, that way. And you'll be in the clear, and back in control. They'll give you that place she built across the street, and this town will eat your shit." "I like that plan. But we won't rush things. I don't want to make anyone suspicious. We'll let a few days go by, then we'll act. When she finds out what's happening, it'll be too late. I'll have her ass for sure."
She could already see the torture of the girls, trying to deny that they had taken part in the robbery, trying to deny the weight of evidence. They would be helpless. She would pull their teeth out with pliers, one by one. Every tooth out of every bloody mouth. She would save Alice for the last. She would let Old Red Ass see her chickens plucked first. The suffering would be greater that way.
After that, she would use the whip. Each set of tits, cut to pieces, tit by tit. Nipples half torn away, the curves split open and all of the inner richness torn up and mangled.
Then the hot irons. Searing the bellies, the breasts. The bottoms branded black, the flesh cooking and the smell of sizzling meat filling the air.
As she thought about it, her box began to spark and to heat. She had an orgasm thinking of all the lovely torture she could subject her enemies to.
There was discomfiture in the camp of her foes. Alice wracked her brains, trying to figure how much the loss of the gold had set them back. She and some of her girls had gone out with the posses, but they had turned back after hitting the site of the ambush and finding nothing that would help them. The stage had been hit by real pros.
That night, Nancy was drunk with Kitty. They had sent more money out than any of the others. They were in a bad way, and the loss had just about wiped out their courage. They were getting it back, drinking their way along the line of the cheap rotgut saloons, carousing and going wild. Alice had not seen fit to stop them in the condition they were in.
There were many discouraged and bitter miners in town that night. They had lost money on that stage, and the loss had finished some of them, if the gold was not recovered.
At a nameless, shit ass saloon, Nancy and Kitty were drinking with a crowd of miners. Their skirts were up so that fingers could be shoved up their asses and their bottoms could be slapped and pawed. Mouths sucked at their big and ripe tits. One of the miners poured tequila over Nancy's tits, then drank the flowing liquid off of her white skin. He pulled down her gown and followed the flow of the liquor down into her pussy pelt. He sucked his mouth full of her growth of hair.
"Shit," cursed the desolated Kitty. "What the hell am I gonna do. Every cent I had was in that stage shipment."
"Don't worry," Nancy assured her. "A little work on your back will get it all back."
"Yeah, a little work on your back, beautiful," said one of the drunken miners, throwing her across a table and trying to get his cock up and shove it into her.
She pushed him away, and when he persisted, fingering her vulva and growling with lust at her clit, she cracked him over the head with her gun butt. She pistol whipped him until he lay unconscious at her feet with a bloody scalp.
"Shit, what did you do that for," complained one of his friends, looking down at the beaten man.
Kitty laughed. She put a bullet alongside his cheek, leaving a gash on his face. She put another bullet through his battered hat, then shot up a row of bottles as the terrified barman hit for cover. He wanted no part of this wild woman.
"Cut it out, Kitty," Nancy said, "or I'm leaving you here."
"Take off. Who the hell needs you anyway."
Nancy left along with the pack of miners, still feeling her tits and ass. Her friend was too drunk and discouraged to give a shit.
In the streets Nancy watched a massacre. One of the dog packs had been lured in with raw, bloody meat. Now a crowd of gutter trash and gun scum was shooting up the curs, slowly cutting them to pieces. The town was in an ugly mood after the robbery.
Soon a fight broke out on the streets. Those who wanted no part of the shooting ran for cover. The battle blazed and exploded across the street, back and forth, leaving half a dozen dead and wounded in the wake after the shooting had died away.
"This town is crazy," Nancy said. "I've had enough of it for now. I'm gonna call it a night."
She was too discouraged to even consider working that night. The last thing she wanted to see was a customer. She would let the other bitches take care of it for the night. The hell with it all. She wanted some sleep, with a good bottle.
Kitty had been spotted by Reno Jack and two of his men. They saw that she was drunk and alone, almost falling down helpless.
When she came staggering out of the place, clutching a bottle of tequila, one of the gunnies came up on her left side and another one on her right side. They patted her on the tits, kissed her ears. She beamed at them, giddy with drink and not thinking straight. They took her around back and along the back alleys and streets, to an abandoned barn. As they took her inside, her mind began to function and she realized that she was being taken away by two strangers she did not know.
"What the hell is this? Who are you two bastards." One of them cracked her in the mouth, knocking two of her teeth loose. The other one relieved her of her iron.
Inside the barn her dress was torn off. They threw her across the barrel, her ass up in the air, her cunt mauled and mangled in a pair of strong hands. As one held her down and the other pawed her, Reno Jack stepped out of the shadows. He had a piece of untreated, raw leather in his hands.
"Now, you damn gunhappy bitch. Let's see if you got the stuff to take some of this here medicine."
He whipped her on the ass globes. He slashed and flogged the big bottom, making the skin rip and shred. Blood spurted and pumped from splits in her white can. He continued to whip her ass in a mad frenzy, smashing away with all of his might, trying to knock her tail off. He hit her faster and faster, with all of his power. He splashed the blood through the air, and the gag in her mouth, a piece of her dress, hardly muffled her screams of agony.
At last, her ass was a bleeding pulp and there was little tissue left that had not been cut to ribbons.
They hung her from the beams by the wrists. Then one of the bastards lit a cigar. He was a tall, thin man with a pock marked face and a gap toothed smile. He kept on smiling at her while he burned letters into her tits. He started with A, searing it in with big black dots left by his hot stogie. He went across her bosom, going through B, C, and D before he ran out of space. He patted her tits, mauled and crushed them, pinching every burn spot in his hands. One fucked her up the asshole, and the other took her from the front, while Reno watched his men and laughed himself weak. He played about with his whip, watching her body buck and jerk under the assault of the two rapists, hitting her up both holes, one from the front and one from the back.
They pumped their loads of seed into her well distended and copiously used orifices. They drove into her in synchronization, one from the front, driving deep as his partner ravaged her from the back. They were plugging her up, filling her out and half splitting her down the middle. Her suffering went on and on. They finished with her at last, and already she looked more dead than alive.
Reno Jack heated a spur on a fire. He made the spur sizzle with heat. Holding it with two gloves on his hand, he brought it close to the girl. She shivered with terror, fearfully watching the hot metal. He placed it on her thigh. The flesh cooked and smoked, turned brown as the heat branded into it. There was a convulsive movement of her body that excited him.
He heated the spur again, her eyes fixed on the sight, and her body still tossing in reaction to her pain. He looked at her, her face now going cold sober, the fear and the horror still building up in her.
"We're gonna roast you gal. We like our meat cooked before we eat it. Don't we, Slim?" The tall man he addressed walked up to the girl and pinched the burn mark on her flank. Her flesh writhed under the effect of the cruel pinch. He ran his hand over her whipped buttocks, exploring the gashes and the lacerations. He dug his hands into her bottom, ripping open the wounds. His cigar touched her spine. Holding it in his mouth, he grazed the burning tip up and down her back, slowly grinding it out with much burning of her flesh.
The other gunman, a short little bastard with a double chin made up of baby soft fat, walked up to her and took hold of her nipples. He took a small pen knife out of his pocket. He held it up to her face.
She trembled with terror. He brought it close, touching her face and leaving a small scratch on her cheek. He touched it again to her nose. Another small cut was left on the bridge of her nose.
"Show the bitch how you handle that, Mitch." Mitch flicked it on her cheek. A thin cut appeared, filled out with blood, which began to overflow the wound and run in a slow, thin trickle down her cheek. Mitch flicked out the knife, cutting her on the forehead. He wounded her other cheek, then gave her two small superficial cuts on the chin.
"Don't be so afraid of that knife," Reno said. "It ain't the blade you have to fear, it's this here spur."
He held it up again, hot and ready. He walked over to her and stuffed it hard against her quim, mashing the heated metal into the lips and rubbing her whole pelvis with the implement. Her pussy hair sizzled and incinerated, her pussy meat turned dark brown and fried. Her body went into wild convulsions of anguish. She did not stop trembling and shaking this time when he removed the source of pain from her flesh.
She continued to kick and writhed in her bondage, foam bubbling up from the corners of her mouth, around her gag.
"Shit, we really are killing this poor cruddy bitch slow and hard," Slim said. He took out a plug of chewing tobacco and began to gnaw on it.
"Don't give me any of that shit," Reno Jack said. "You're enjoying every minute of this." Slim grinned, his gapped teeth showing, dirty and rotten.
"I never said that I wasn't enjoying this. Why not roast her boobies next."
"That's a fine idea."
The iron was hot again. Reno touched it to the underside of the right breast. He burned a half moon brand mark into the tit, slowly searing the bouncing bubble. He brought the spur around the breast, and along the cleavage, searing the inner curves of both breasts as well as the skin between the jugs. He finally ran out of heat, and had to end this burn. He put two spurs into the fire this time, letting them heat up hot enough to make her flesh drip its fat.
"This time we'll touch her with two of these at the same time."
The two gunmen who rode his tail worked on her with their hands. They fingerfucked her burned quim, and worked around a stick inside her asshole. They touched and pinched the places where her beautiful body had been tortured with heat.
Now both spurs were hot and ready. The fiendish Reno Jack touched one to her right side and one to the left. At first the touches were delicate, barely pressing to the sweat sheened skin. But as the skin gave off its smell of frying, and turned dark, he pressed down hard. There was a heavy sizzle, and small flames erupted from the flesh, which burned charcoal black under the heat of the red hot spurs.
He ran the spurs up and down her ribcage. The body was in ghastly spasms, the eyes had almost bulged from the sockets, and the whites were showing.
"If you boys want to plug this bitch again, you better do it, now, she ain't gonna last long."
They took their turn again. She was limp and her body was stinking of roasting and sweat and the foul smells of fear and anguish. It was like fucking a corpse, she was so still and lifeless.
The pigs did not care. She was a woman, and they bulled away inside her, making her pussy bleed and her ass tear with their savage onslaught.
Jack threw a few buckets of water over her when his boys had finished. He wanted her awake so that she could know what was going to happen to her. When he saw that she was sufficiently conscious and able to appreciate her agony, he touched the hot spurs to her flesh again.
This time he burned her breasts. The red hot spurs were touched directly to the nipples. He bore down with all of his might, and twisted the spurs around on her body, gouging in. He burned away the nipples and the tips of her breasts.
He crushed and mangled and kneaded and squished the blackened stumps of her tits. He dug his nails into her nippleless tits and scraped the raw, burned nerve endings, that sent shock waves of pain blasting into her skull.
"She ain't gonna last long now, boss."
Reno Jack looked her over.
"She's almost done for. Let's use her for target practice."
He put the first slug into her hip, and the second into her ankle. Her body swung slightly in its ropes. He fanned three shots, into her armpits and her shoulder. Blood oozed from the holes in her body. She kicked and twisted in deathly spasms, a rattling sound issuing from under her gag.
"Let me have a few shots at her," said Mitch.
He whipped out his six shooter and pumped a few rounds into her elbows and knees. There was the sound of cracking bone. Her body bathed in blood, the torso marred with the black marks of the burning, she was in the extremities of final suffering.
"We don't want to leave any proof of what happened, do we boys?"
Reno Jack poured kerosene from a lantern over her, and then he struck a match.
"So long, you bitch."
He set fire to her. She instantly became a burning, living torch. Her body gave a few final spasms before it went limp. The flames spread rapidly. By the time they were back in the Golden Garter, the entire structure was a blazing ruin.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"I know that bitch is behind this," swore Red Ass Alice. She took a long pull from her whiskey bottle.
"We don't know for sure that Kitty is dead," Nancy reminded her.
"I know it. I can feel it. That body they found in the ruins of that barn after the fire burned out. That must have been her."
"Nonsense," reiterated Nancy. "That was nothing but a pile of ashes and a few bones. They ain't even sure that it was human."
"First the stage and now this. I should have killed that whore this time. I thought she would die, and I was too sick of chopping her up to finish the job. Now, it's too late. I'd need an army to get in there at her."
"If she robbed that stage and we could prove it, we'd have the whole town behind us."
"From now on, we stick to this place until I say different. If we leave, we go in groups of three. And I want some reliable spies poking around in that place of hers. I'm sure she sends people in here every night to see what the shit is going on here."
"I wouldn't doubt it."
"I should have made sure she was dead. Now she's making some kind of move and I don't know for sure what it is. But I know its gonna be bad news for us. And I know that they killed Kitty. You never should have left her alone, the way she was."
Nancy was blazing mad. Sure, it was her fault that this had happened, to a certain extent. But the way Kitty was, it would have been more than a saint could bear to stay with her. But she had an idea.
"I think I know a way we could get a bit of an edge on her. I could get in there with her crowd."
"How do you figure on that?"
"Just now, when I felt a bit of mad coming on for the way you chewed on me, the idea came to me. We could pretend to have a real fight. I mean a blood bath. And you could haul my ass out of here. I'd wind up across the street with that slut, Hetty. I'd be a spy right in her camp."
"You know what you're saying? There ain't nothing more dangerous than being a spy. She didn't get what she has by being stupid. She knows what she's doing. I think you'd better forget it."
"She wants you bad. If I was to tell her all that I know, I'm sure that she would let me in on what she has going on for her."
"I think that maybe you're chewing too much hair off this dog. You could wind up with a bullet through your head. Real easy."
"A bullet. That's an idea. YOU could take a shot at me as you boot me out. No, take a whole lot of shots. You could maybe nick me a bit in the shoulder. Only, use that small derringer of yours, the one with the .22s. That shouldn't do much damage from an open range."
"If you want to go through with this, we have to make it look good. I mean, we have to have a real, goddam, drag out fight. Like we had back on the trial."
"Then we go ahead with it."
"I'm gonna hire a fellow with a red hatband and a Mexican holster named Croacher. Sam Croacher. He's a top gun and he ain't buzzard bait like most of these other riffraff. He's gonna become one of your regulars when you move in there with Hetty. He's got a gal in her place. You're gonna take her place. Every day, you'll see him and while he pokes his thing into you, you'll tell him what you found out, and he'll give you messages from me. That's about the safest way to pass information back and forth. We'll be real careful about the way we work this."
"Suits me. I don't aim to wind up dead out of this hassle."
That night, the girls were whooping it up, fingerfucking themselves, sucking dick, eating each other out front and back. It was wild riot night in the Fuck Hole, and the girls had discarded their scanty dresses all together. They moved through the packs of miners and driftwood, being pawed and embraced on every side. Whiskey poured down their flesh and hands explored their bodies.
As the night wore on, Red Ass kept prodding Nancy about the loss of Kitty. The other girls were aware of the boiling trouble that was rising between them. They tried to cool it off, unaware that it was part of a plan. The drunken barfly watching them for Hetty, and the gunfighter favoring Annie's tits with his mouth, and also working for Hetty, missed none of the exchange.
"Damn it, you leave me alone, you shiteating bitch," screamed Nancy, when her patience snapped.
She threw a glass of whiskey in her boss's face. Red Ass wiped away the splash of liquid, her face going hard and angry.
"You been asking for this. Now I'm gonna ram those tits of yours down your mouth."
Nancy leaped at her before she could attack. Talons laid open Alice's tits. Another swipe of the claws ripped her cheek.
She countered with a terrific punch to Nancy's tits. The boobs mushed up under the impact of the heavy fist. Nancy buckled, then straightened and rammed her hand into Alice's belly. She ripped her open down into her cunt mound, laying raw the flesh. She lowered her head and butted Alice in the crotch. She followed up with a kick to the belly and a savage rabbit punch to the back of the head.
They went down in a tangle of arms and legs. They rolled around kicking and clawing.
Red Ass sank her teeth into the white of Nancy's tit. She sawed her teeth deep into the pulp trapped in her mouth. She wrenched it up, and pulled at it, stretching out the flesh in her mouth, rending and tearing it. Blood ran from the deep bite wounds. She sank her teeth into the flesh around the nipple, almost tearing the nipple off in her teeth, but being careful not to go too far.
Nancy rolled and hooked her legs around Alice's right leg. She locked the thighs in between her legs, and then tugged, arching her back and splitting Alice wide open. One hand gripped Alice's cunt as tight as a vise. The other hand thrust up into her pussy hole. She closed her fist and yanked it out, busting open the tight fit of the vagina as she pulled her hand out past the clawed vulva lips.
Alice went jackknifing and twitching in spasms of agony, rolling over and over, knocking over a table.
Nancy came after her. She kicked and stomped her boss. She aimed a careful kick for Alice's face, but Alice was ready for her. She grabbed her foot, twisting it out from under her, knowing that Nancy had set up the kick in a clumsy way so as to give her the advantage.
The two battered girls got to their feet warily. They circled carefully, rubbing wounds and injuries.
Nancy picked up a bottle. She broke it and menaced Alice with the jagged glass.
"Put that down or I swear, I'll kill you."
"Come on then, you big tub of shit. Let's see what you can do."
"This is the last time I take shit from you. Get your ass out of here, we're quits. If I ever see you on my property again, I'll finish you off."
"You bitch. I'm the one who pulls in more prick than anyone else. They don't come to see you wiggle your fat ass. Now I want what's mine. I want my fair share of this place."
"You ain't' got no share, slut."
"Damn you, I got it coming. I'm entitled to my share, and you ain't keeping me from it."
"Get out now."
Alice picked up a chair and heaved it at Nancy. Nancy retaliated by attacking her with the bottle. Alice backed off, avoiding the stab of the glass. Nancy made it look good, coming dangerously close to her.
Alice lifted up a table and heaved it. Nancy went sprawling, pinned under it.
"I'm getting my pistol," Alice screamed.
Nancy heaved herself out from under the table. Annie helped her to her feet, her face ashen and pale. All of the girls looked as if they had been badly shaken, a few of the more sentimental ones had tears in their eyes.
"Sister," Annie said, "you had better get out of here until she cools down. I don't know what got into the two of you, but you're both acting loco. You must have a burr up your ass."
"I don't need any advice from you. I'm leaving and I'm not coming back."
Nancy ran out the front door. Alice came out on the balcony overhanging the wooden pavement that served to keep the dirty boots of the citizens from stomping around in the mud of the street.
"You bitch. Think you're gonna get away from me? I'll show you what for."
She fired with her derringer. The people in the streets cleared away. Nancy made a run for the saloon across the street, another shot grazing her shoulder. As she made the doorway, two more bullets thudded into the swinging door shutters.
"You dirty bitch. Taking refuge with Hetty Malone, are you? Well, I'll get you sooner or later."
The Fuck Hole was silent and morose for the rest of the night. The raucous joviality was stilled. It had been a mystifying experience for the girls, and their spirits were depressed to rock bottom. They still could not grasp the cause of the falling out between Alice and Nancy. They only knew that it had broken their assembled and unified ranks, and badly weakened them. Nancy was a good hand with a gun, and a cool head in trouble. Now she had gone across the street to the camp of the enemy. Some of them thought that Alice was to blame, but they could not understand how the trouble had gone so far. But Nancy had always been a hothead.
Hetty was talking to Nancy in her chambers all through the night. She tended to the scratch of a wound on the girl's shoulder, and nursed her bitterness with cunning words and a lot of whiskey. Soon, she figured, she had the girl eating out of the palm of her hand.
"You sure are different from what that bitch, Alice, was always saying. I ain't gonna take account of nothing she says after her double-crossing me like that and trying to plug me. The whore."
"If she had been using a handgun instead of a little pea shooter of a derringer, she would have murdered you naked in the streets."
"I've lost everything," she declared bitterly. "I ain't even got a rag to wear on my cunt."
"I can outfit you," Hetty said. "There's no problem there. Of course, I have to be sure you're really my friend."
Nancy fervently gripped Hetty's hands, sending a small thrill of sexual desire blossoming in Hetty's body.
"I'm your friend, you can be sure of that. I never forget when somebody does me a hurt, and that Alice done me wrong."
"Then you want to get even with her, right?"
"You know it. And the rest of those bitches just stood by and let her do what she wanted. Well, now I don't owe anything to any of them. I'm a free agent, and I'll help you. We'll help each other, you get what you want, and I get what I want."
"Sounds fine to me. The first thing we have to see, is whether I can trust you."
"Sure you can. I'll tell you everything I know about them for a start."
Nancy began to talk. She told Hetty about the way they fought, the training they had received. She told her the personal histories of every one of the girls, and the way they had come to join with Alice. She told her every fact she could remember. It was very impressive, but Nancy knew that it could be of no utilizable value to Hetty against her friends.
"That tells me a hell of a lot. I'm beginning to develop some trust in you. But it won't help me very much in a fight. What I want to know is the layout of that place."
Nancy caught her breath. This information really would be of help to her. She hated to give it to Hetty, but she had to allay her suspicions. She had to be sure of the trust of the bitch. She related to her all of the details of the place that she could think of. She even drew her diagrams, with greater and greater false enthusiasm showing her ways in and out, all of the little information that could help her gain entrance without being caught.
"You do have a memory for details. And it squares with all that's been told me about the place. I think you can be very useful to me."
"That's what I want, to be useful."
Nancy's hand wandered to Hetty's breast. She fondled it through the woman's dress. She let her mischievous hands drop to the lap of the dress. Under the material the hands went, thrusting and seeking.
"Do you want to be my good friend?" Hetty asked.
"Yes, I want to be your very good friend," she answered to the woman in the black hood.
"Then you are my friend."
They locked together, the naked body of the young girl clasped to the flesh of the older, mutilated Madame. They tongued each other in the slot holes, rubbing hot buttocks with well trained hands, versed in the arts and wiles of the whore.
Hetty's natural suspicions were lulled. For the moment, Nancy was accepted. As she made love, hiding her revulsion, she thought that the idea had been acted upon none too soon. It was obvious that Hetty was up to something dire, and she would make her move uncomfortably soon. They would have to be ready for her when she made her move, or they would be done for.
CHAPTER NINE
Nancy Sloan was on her back, humping away under her contact man, Sam Croacher. She humped him ragged, her cunt just pumping all of the come out of his ejaculating erector.
"I think they're gonna make their move tonight," she whispered into his ear. "Around the early hours. I seen Hetty talking to two of her gunhawks and showing them the sketches I made of the Fuck Hole."
"What do they look like?"
"They ain't her official shotgun trouble shooters. They're a couple of boys I seen around with Reno Jack. One is Slim, a tall, ugly fellow with an old black hat, that has a big chunk missing out of the front of the brim. The other is a slob named Choctaw. He has grey and red whiskers, and his hair is red on the top and greying on the sides. He wears his hat off most of the time, hanging down the back on rawhide strands. He doesn't have it on his head very often."
"That sounds like two fellows that can be recognized. I'll have them be on the lookout for those two or any of that bunch. Ain't you getting tired of this work? Maybe you should get out of here tonight?"
"I'll stick around for a while. I want to get something that will really help us."
"I have a hunch you're making a mistake."
"Sure, but I gotta take the chance."
She gave her cunt a twisting, flipping series of turns and rolls, vising his prick and bending it slightly, with each spasm that drew the come out of it. Into the bargain on top of the money that was being paid, he was getting a great lay every day.
"I'll be here the same time tomorrow. You take care of yourself. If I think that things are getting too hot for you, I'm gonna take you outside for a walk, and you're not coming back."
"Do you care about me?"
He kissed her lovingly on the breasts, again and again.
"I care about you very much, and I'm gonna make sure that nothing unforeseen happens to you. You have my word on that."
His word was good enough for her. No one had ever really cared about what happened to her before, and his feeling for her left her speechless.
The exiting gunfighter ran into Reno Jack. Their hands tightened and came close to their guns when their eyes met in unfriendly greeting.
"How's it going Jack?" Sam asked in a voice that was unmistakably not friendly.
"Could be worse. And how are things with you?"
"Not bad at all. I hear you're as fast as you ever were. That's just fine. You might need that speed someday."
"Well, the best of luck to you. Hope I run into you again soon."
Sam watched his back very carefully when backing out of sight of Reno Jack.
Jack went off to have a serious powwow with his boss. He didn't like the idea of Sam Croacher hanging around the Golden Garter.
"What the hell difference does it make?"
Hetty asked. "That bum used to come calling on Hildy all of the time. Now he calls on my new filly. I guess she sucks him better or something. Anyway, why should I throw out a paying customer just because you don't like him? Maybe it's because he's faster than you are."
"I think he works for your competition. Why does he come here everyday? He don't dig for gold, so somebody is paying him money, and he only works with that gun of his. So I got my suspicions about that bitch coming over here."
"Alice tried to kill her."
"Then why didn't she? Popping away with a shitass derringer. And missing three times, plus a scratch the fourth time. Maybe that ain't damn bad shooting, maybe that's damn good shooting. Maybe she meant to hit her a scratch, and nothing more."
"I think you're getting to think they got more brains than I do. Hell, they would really be something if they could figure out a plan like that. Shooting from the balcony, shaken up, in the dark, with nothing but a derringer. Of course, a good shot could miss that way. So don't let it bother you no more. I sure as hell am not gonna let them put anything over on me."
"I hope you know what you're doing. Cause I'm in this as deep as you are. We either win this, or we come up dead."
"Now, make sure those boys know what they're doing. I want them to go over there, right on time. They play at the roulette wheel for a while, then when nobody's looking, they slip into the utility room and hide those sacks and those nuggets under those barrels of supplies. That will be enough. We get Nancy to tell the miners that she knows her boss was behind it. We let them know where to find the evidence we planted, they find it, and they deliver our enemies up to us for our vengeance."
"Your vengeance lady. All I want is the money you promised me."
"Plus some fun out of it. You really cut up that girl afore you finished her off. Had yourself a lot of fun doing it, didn't you? Well, I understand that kind of fun. And I promise you that you'll have a lot more of that kind of amusement before this here work I hired you for gets done."
Later that night, his two men, acting very drunk and very happy, wandered over to the Fuck Hole.
The minute they walked through the door they were under watch. Their descriptions were known to every gunhand and every whore in the place. They watched them closely, never letting them out of sight.
Dancing naked on a table top, Red Ass kept her eyes on them, her men awaiting her signal. The two crowbait killers had no suspicion that they were under surveillance.
They played with the tits of one of the girls for a while. They bought her a few drinks, and had a few with her. They kissed her and drooled on her, and she was glad enough to get away from the pair of slobs.
After a while they played roulette. They lost and faded away from the table. Then they inched their way to the back room, to get into the corridor that led to the utility storeroom.
One of the shotgun men on the upper balcony made a sign to Alice, pointing to the two men, and then indicating with his finger that they were slipping off into the back.
Alice had a sudden suspicion of what they were up to. They were either going to plant something or set a fire. Or perhaps a bomb. They wanted to get into that room. Maybe they intended to hide out there and sneak out in the middle of the night, an enemy within to aid an attack from outside.
Alice whipped a six-shooter out of the holster she had kept handy while she danced. She signaled to the men on the topside to stop the pair before they went any further.
One of the gunnies drew down on the pair with a shotgun, another with a rifle.
"Halt, you pair of bushwhacking bastards. Where the hell do you think you're going?"
The men looked up, shaking with sudden fear. One of them went for his gun, and then the other one drew iron. They were blown apart by shotgun blast and rifle fire. They were sent sprawling in the dust, each in his own pool of blood.
The customers scattered, not knowing what the hell was going on. Alice ran over to the pair of them, cursing when she found them both dead. If one was still alive, they could have forced him to talk. It was a stroke of bad luck.
They searched the pockets of the two men, discovering sacks and nugget pouches from the robbery, as well as a few thousand dollars in gold nuggets and dust.
"Son of a bitch," exclaimed a miner. "Look at all the loot they got on them. These bastards must be part of the crew that robbed the stage. Anybody know who they are?"
"They're a pair of shirttail bastards that hires out their guns," said another miner. "They do a little stealing and drygulching when times are hard. Bodie is full of scum like these. But why were they trying to sneak into your back room, Miss Alice?"
Alice shrugged. No point in telling them her suspicions, it would only reveal that she was expecting trouble.
"Dumb bastards probably figured I had a safe or something back there. They must have had a bum steer, cause all I got back there is some supplies and whiskey. Maybe they were planning to steal some whiskey."
The entire assembly broke up in hearty laughter. Two of the stage robbers had been killed. It was cause for a celebration. Things were looking up in Bodie.
Later that night, Reno Jack, and Hetty Malone were holding a war council.
"What if she had taken one of those crumbs alive," Jack said. "She could have made him talk for the whole town. Fifteen thousand miners on your neck is something you don't want."
"The plan went wrong. Damn it, I thought you had it planned right. You're the one who picked the men."
"And you're the one who took in Nancy, boss. I told you about her. It was all a performance, and you fell for it. She's with the other side." Hetty thought about it. As much as she regretted admitting a mistake, she had to ruefully admit this one. The killer was right, and she had taken in a spy for the other side.
"There's a worked out mine three miles out of town, called the Lucky Lode. I want you to take her out there, and hide her out in the third main shaft. Nobody will find you there. Take some of the boys with you. Take care of her right now. And make her regret the day that she was born."
They caught Nancy just after she had finished taking a trail hand up her asshole. As she was washing the come out of her bottom hole in her basin, Reno Jack and three of his men burst in on her. She was gagged and bound before she could raise an outcry. They stuffed her into a sack and took her out the back. They loaded her in a buckboard and rode out of town with her.
She was taken into the mine, into the third shaft. At the large and spacious mouth of the shaft, where it met with two other tunnels, they set up for her punishment and ordeal.
The sack was opened and she was spilled out, chafing her legs on the hard, gravelly rock. She looked about at a circle of menacing, leering faces. Cold fear ran over her. They were cruel and brutal killers, all of them.
"You bitch. You and your friends killed Bill Swinson. Old Bill was a friend of mine."
The man who said this stepped forward and kicked her in the center of her soft right breast. The boob rippled and shook with the force of his kick.
"Let's not be crude with this bitch," Reno said. "We got lots of time, so let's do this right."
He rolled the girl over on her belly and spread her legs. Nancy could hear the sound of pants dropping. Then a tearing pain ravaged her asshole. He was lunging deep into her, running his cock deep into her rump. He lunged back and forth, half splitting her in two like an overripe melon with his force. He spread open her asshole, poking deep into the tender and vulnerable bottom. He lunged back and forth, pulling her cheeks wide apart with his hands and trying to tear the membrane opening of her anus.
He took a long time fucking her ass. She was limp and shattered by the pain when he finished with her. But her ordeal was far from over. With a chuckle he gave the signal to his men. One by one, they fucked her. Her cunt, her ass, her mouth. Their cruel hands molested her body, covering her skin with bruises. They ripped and tore at her, leaving red streaks and stripes over her flesh.
She squirmed under the savage assault, wondering what was going to happen to her next. This was bad enough, but of course they had far worse things in store for her.
"You got cause to worry, little gal. We're gonna pay you back for the grief you caused us."
They started a fire, and a branding iron was heated in it. In the meantime, the raping continued. One of the slimiest of them fucked her mouth, sitting on her face.
His ass crack was coated with dried excrement and unwashed dirt. His stench made her cough, tear, and choke, as if gas were being forced into her lungs. His stench was unbelievable, the stink of a man who never bathed.
"The bitch don't seem to like your smell Jed," one of his friends said in a mocking voice.
His words stung Jed. Jed began to rip his cock savagely down into her gagging mouth. He pumped away, squeezing the sack of his genitals with both hands. He was not about to let the little whore insult him.
He fucked and fucked, and his dirty ass left its slime of excrement on her face. By the time he had finished with her and he removed his ass from her face, she was more dead than alive.
They hung her up by her feet. Her head dangled well clear of the floor of the shaft. They pulled on her long hair, using it to swing her back and forth like a pendulum. Their hands wandered all over her, stinging, hurting hands. Her tits were stretched out until they were ready to pop, then they were snapped back. They swung her in every direction, one pushing her away from him, then another catching hold of her and swinging her the other way.
The branding iron was ready. Reno spat on it. His spit sizzled and went up in a puff of smoke. He approached the victim with the hot iron, wondering what part of her body to abuse with it.
He selected her ass. She kicked and sawed, trying to inch her trapped body away from the looming iron. He put the heated tip right up close to her ass. Then, he took careful aim and jabbed right into the center of the globe of the left cheek. The flesh burned and fried. Smoke burst up from the iron and the skin. He left a deep, black mark burned into her bottom.
She was in deep pain. Her cries of agony resounded from the echoing walls of the mine. The men laid upon her with whips and straps.
Dizziness assailed her, hanging upside down as she was. But the agony was far worse. They laid on the flogging without pity. They chopped up her ass, using the brand scar they had decorated her ass with as the focal point of their attack. The blows fell thick and fast. Her skin tore apart, and the white flesh underneath was shredded. Her bottom was split apart. They sawed open the welts with files, sinking the files into the open wounds and hacking away until the weals were split wide open.
They thrust small rocks into her cunt and ass. They pulled several of her toenails out with pliers, nail by nail, using a particularly malevolent clumsiness to make the operation hurt her all the more.
They broke her small fingers. Reno Jack did this himself, cracking them as neatly as chicken bones. He bent the fingers back until they cracked, then swung the tiny fingers the other way. She was in the extremities of suffering, and at this point, with a last cry she passed out.
"Let's not finish her boys," cautioned Jack. "I got a feeling the boss will want to be in on this fun herself. Let's not cheat her out of her fun."
CHAPTER TEN
Sam Croacher went early to see Nancy the next day. At the top of the stairs that led to the row of rooms and crib spaces, the burly, unfriendly bastard holding a rifle on him informed him that Nancy had left. He doubted the man's words and made a few remarks about his mother.
The bastard tried to bring his gun down on Sam and put a slug through his guts. Sam whipped out his Colt and put one right between the rifleman's eyes.
As he fell, Sam spun around. The two shotgun men in alcoves on the wall had their weapons bearing around on him. Sam dropped them both, one bullet in each of them. He was in no mood to talk first and shoot later.
Screaming girls scattered downstairs. Hetty's men had their iron out and they were chopping wood all around Sam. Sam lit out for the back door, running past the row of rooms, with heads popping out to stare, then back in again when they saw the piece of business he carried in his hand.
Mitch came out of one room, gun in hand, trying to pull on his pants with the other hand. Sam suddenly realized that he needed one of Hetty's men for information.
He knocked the gun out of his hand, and gave him a poke in the belly with his Colt.
"Hitch up those pants and you run ahead of me, boy. You run and don't you stop. You keep going or I'll blow the back of your head off."
Herding his frightened victim ahead of him, Sam broke out the back door and down the stairs, with the bullets whining all around him. He headed the bastard around behind another saloon, and across the street. There were men out on the front street taking shots at him, but from the Fuck Hole the whores and the gunmen shot down three or four of them.
His prisoner took one in the gut. He tried to halt, but Sam cracked the pistol down on his wound, stimulating him to a greater effort.
"What was that all about?," asked Alice, when he was safely inside.
"Nancy has disappeared. Things are starting to move fast. They must have caught on to her. If she's still alive, this bastard will know where."
"What is this?" Annie asked. "I thought that Nancy left us."
"I sent her over there to spy on that bitch. It was her idea, but I shouldn't have let her go ahead with it."
She reached to the frightened Mitch and grasped him by his wounded arm. She reeled in her frightened fish, tearing the shirt away over the wound.
"Where is Nancy?" she asked in a terrible, cold and menacing voice.
"I don't know. I need a doctor bad. I'm bleeding. Leave me alone."
Alice tore his shirt off, exposing his wound. It was a nasty hole, and the blood continued to pump and spurt out of it.
"Hold the shit tight."
Three of the girls laid hold of him and held him fast in strong, angry hands. Their claws dug deep into his flesh, drawing blood. One of them put her knee to his groin and then smashed it in. He saw stars and pinwheels, a great, exploding pain surging in his groin.
Alice gripped the bullet wound. She pinched it close, squirting blood out as she pumped and kneaded the bullet hole. The man erupted in a spasm of pure anguish, all of the strength of the girls necessary to keep him from tearing out of their grasp.
"What happened to Kitty? Where is Nancy?"
He was frightened to talk. He knew they would kill him once they knew. And he had taken part in the torture murder of Kitty. Although he refused to talk about it, with anyone, it kept gnawing at him. And now, he was in the hands of her friends, and frightened that he would blurt it out under their tortures.
The girls stretched him out naked across a bed upstairs. They had little time to waste, they had to get the answers from him.
Across the street, an emergency war council was being held. Hetty was in a frothing rage, all of her careful planning gone for naught. Bullets and numbers would now decide the issue.
"We have them outnumbered three to one. We have to get rid of them now, before that bastard talks about the gold robbery and gets the town on our ass."
Reno Jack nodded his head nervously. He regretted the loss of this particular man. If the bastard talked about the way Kitty had died, then the thing he would have to avoid at all costs was to be taken alive. The things they would do to him were beyond all bounds. They would be absolutely merciless.
"We have to get them out of town. I think we can be assured of that. When he talks, the first thing they'll do is go after their friend. We're gonna get out there and lay an ambush for them. We'll leave enough men behind to take care of this place, just in case. We'll be waiting for them with forty men out there. We'll massacre all of them."
"I'm going with you," Hetty said. "I want to be in on this. I'll pay two thousand in gold to any man who takes one of those whores alive, and ten thousand for any man who can take that bitch, Red Ass Alice, alive."
At the Fuck Hole the girls were wringing the balls of the ratty prisoner. They took his nuts in firm, merciless hands and crushed them to pulp, twisting right and left. They jerked and screwed the balls around, trying to tie them up in knots. They pulled and yanked on them, slapped the testicles continuously, driving him to the point of madness.
A tourniquet had been twisted around his wound, and they tightened up on it and loosened it in a clever ploy to make his wound burst with agony. One of them probed in and out of the bullet hole with a piece of wood, digging at the bullet.
They burned the soles of his feet with matches. Alice placed a match between his big toe and his second toe on each foot. She lit them and two girls were required to hold his legs steady while his feet experienced the agony of the hotfoot.
Finally, they put lighted matches to his penis and his balls. As his genitals began to cook, he became talkative. He told them everything.
He told them about the death of Kitty, leaving out his part in it. He told them about the kidnapping of Nancy and her torture. He told them about the robbery of the stagecoach, leaving out his own participation once again.
When he had finished, Sam Croacher put a gun to his head.
"Let's kill the son of a bitch."
"No, I want Jake and George to take him out to the Red Devil mine. It's the biggest around here and it lost over two hundred thousand in that robbery. I want the miners to know who staged that holdup."
She grabbed him by the neck. "You're gonna tell them what you just told us, if you expect to live. Every damn word of it. Now, where the hell is that money you bastard?"
"I swear, I don't know. Only Hetty knows where she keeps her money."
"She must have quite a nest of it stashed away. What with the money that place of hers makes, plus the robberies she's been pulling." The rat was hustled out the back way, into a buckboard, and out of town.
"Do we wait? What about heading out there now with all the miners and gunmen we can round up?"
Alice laughed at his foolishness. "They're gonna be waiting for us by the time we get out there. And don't fool yourself. Those miners will be in the mood for a lynching. But when they see the army Hetty has to back her up, they'll let us do most of the fighting. Vigilante hanging is one thing, but a big gun battle is something they'll want no part of."
"How do we get her out of that mine then? With them in wait for us."
Alice turned to one of the men working for her at the crap table, an ex-miner who had worked at the closed down shafts.
"There's a back shaft leading into the tunnels they got your friend in. It leads in from the far side of Crow Mountain. An hour's detour around it. You'll need me to guide you through. Which I'll gladly do, if you make it worth my while."
Alice grinned. An ambush from behind was just the thing to cut down the odds.
"Let's get out there with every gun we got. We're gonna hit them from behind. We'll empty this place out. Those fools watching across the street can keep on watching. We're closing down for the day."
Out on the street, in the shelter of structures and in alleys and doorways, hundreds of onlookers were waiting for the climax of the rivalry. They did not know the details, but they knew that the shooting had broken out afresh, and a showdown was the only possible outcome left.
Out at the mine, Reno Jack was torturing Nancy while awaiting the attack of the enemy.
"Thanks to you and your friends," he raged, "we gotta pull up stakes and get out of here. They're gonna tell all the miners what we done to that stage. We can't take a chance on going back into town."
He lashed her breasts with his whip. He cut open the nipples with a few violent lashes. Then he swung the whip between her legs, cutting up her shapely quim. He bloodied her hair with his savagery. He whipped away at her, flogging her back. His whip cut diagonal stripes into her going downwards from left to right. He cut the welts into her body at intervals of about two inches. He slashed away down to her rump.
He whipped each globe separately. He cracked a criss cross pattern to the center of each cheek. Then he ripped up all of the white matter of the fleshy melons, making the torn tissues give off a veritable flood of blood. He cut her legs, slashing her down to the ankles. He then went back up her legs once more to the bottom.
He whipped a final pattern that hit all of the areas of her body he had skipped over. He was thorough and merciless, and did not stop until there was nothing left to whip.
Hetty in her black hood, sat nearby, toying with a pistol and looking down at the chest of money on which she sat.
"I didn't know you had the money from the stage robbery stashed in here," Reno said with a note of admiration in his voice.
"I had two of the boys, Burt and Harry, bring it around here three nights ago. I was with them."
He looked at her in surprise. "I didn't suspect that you left your place ever."
"This one time I did. And you ain't seen those two boys lately, have you?" She pointed to a deep pit at the branching of two shafts.
"They're down there, with bullets in their heads. I got rid of them, leaving no witnesses to where the money was."
"Very clever. And I suppose you have a way out of here, just in case."
"I have a buckboard and team hidden off in the brush. When we leave after the fight, we'll divide up, and I'm leaving with five of the boys I can trust. You can take your share and go where you want. We'll pay off this dog meat and scatter."
He lit a cigar, flicking out the match by throwing it on Nancy's tit. He ran the hot stogie up and down her thigh, feeling satisfaction when she erupted in spasms of twitching pain to the touch of the heat.
"You forgot one thing, you bitch. Me. I'm riding off with all of the money you got there. Pretty smart, weren't you. Leaving a third of the boys in the saloon. Gets them out of the way. You got those bastards you brought with us out front, ready to fight to the death. And you're gonna take off after the fight, with whatever reliable men you got left. I knew you had no intention of coming back after this brawl when I saw you empty out your safe. I knew that you would be picking up your main cache. You must have close to a million in there. Well, it's just too bad I can't get my hands on the money you have in that Chicago bank you send money to."
"I got close to two million in here, and you ain't gonna get it."
He whipped out his gun and covered her. She dropped the pistol she had been loading. "Now, we play."
He tore the clothes off her scarred body. The two men standing by, were his own boys. He had her dead to right, and she knew it as he twisted her nipples, almost ripping them off. She had big, full tits. Great milk pouches and soft as butter. He sank his savage teeth into them, ripping them up. He had wanted to tear into her, every time she had handed him one of her arrogant orders. She thought she had been hot shit. Now, he was showing her that she was just dead cold meat.
He mangled and fanged her tits. He bit off a piece of her nipple and spat it out. Then he tore off a chunk of the other nipple and spit it into her face. He threw her against a wall, and delivered a crunching kick with his boot heel right into her cunt.
He whipped her, cutting great welts into her soft rump. He splashed the blood from her ass, tore the cheeks apart. He split open the tits, and began to whip at the torn nipples. She went into paroxysms when the whip tore open the raw gaping hole in her nipple.
Suddenly, there was a scurry of bodies, and a heavy blow smashed his skull. As he staggered, another cracking blow was laid to his skull with the barrel of a rifle.
As he went down, his two boys also fell, knives ripping out guts and hearts, splitting them open. Three or four girls flashed upon each of them with a knife, hacking them to pieces.
Hetty looked up into the wrathful face of Alice.
"I been listening for about five minutes. You always was an arrogant, dumb fool. You were too confident, trusting that bastard, and then leaving this place without a guard at the rear. Ambush at the mine. You must be reading dime novels. You really expected me to fall for this. Well, I see your friend has made a good start on you. I wonder which one of you will die slower. Probably you. I hate you the most."
Then, with Sam Croacher and her other gunmen in the lead, they went surging to hit the ambush force. They blasted into the rear of the gunnies with all guns blazing. They cut down a mass of them, before the gunmen could regain their balance.
After that, they cut down many others who were on the run from the strike in their rear. These men ran into a small force Alice had sent to the front. The last of the survivors, some fifteen men, surrendered.
The wounded were finished off. A count showed two dead on Alice's side, one of her girls and one of her gunmen. Aside from a few wounded, that was the extent of her losses.
Cradling Nancy's battered body in her hands, she vowed to make the whole bloody crew of them pay. And with the memory of Kitty's death by torture, all of her girls were hungry for vengeance and eager to second her determination with their own action.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fifteen gunmen were slowly hacked and burned and whipped to bloody imitations of their former human forms.
Norma and Apache Jane laid out a spit in the ground. Over it they roasted a naked man. The fire under his body was kept going low. They fed it just enough wood to keep it blazing. As his insides churned and the sweat melted out of him, his hide began to crack and peel and brown. The hairs on his body sizzled and curled. The heat burned into his skin in slow radiated flows of heat.
They poured boiling hot coffee over his head. His skin blistered and boiled. They poured hot coffee over his chest, and into the split between his buttocks when he was tortured up belly down upon the wooden shaft he was bound to.
Two men had been tied together in the position of sixty-nine. Under the lacerating sting of the whip, they sucked upon each other, kissing balls and licking dick to the laughter of a circle of jeering whores.
One of the girls began to cut away hunks of their buttocks with a knife. She hacked away patches of skin, then channeled the knife deep into the fat to slice away small steaks of their rumps.
They were in sheer screaming agony. They rolled upon the ground, clutching their mangled asses. The girls bound them together with barbed wire, in the position of mutual sucking once again. Under the threat of the castrating knife, they sucked and chewed the come from rigid cocks, ignoring the bleeding of their skinned and chopped up behinds.
Big Annie selected a young, gunhappy kid. She tied him on his knees, back grating on the trunk of a tree. She lined up three of his buddies and had them take turns pissing down his throat. Then she made them circle jerk on his face. After that, they congregated together on their knees, kissing the sperm off of his head, while playing fingerfuck in each other's assholes with their dirty fingers.
"Take a look at this," Alice taunted Hetty. "Not quite the way you expected things to turn out, is it. Well your turn will come soon enough."
The boy gunslinger on his knees was crying like a baby. His buddies were sucking his cock and balls, chewing his nipples to pulp while their backs and bottoms were flogged raw.
The sweating mass of male flesh was cut and criss crossed with hundreds of long red tears in the muscular hide. Blood covered their bodies like a blanket. Hot matches and cigars were rubbed into their wounds and lacerations.
Cloris poked a hot cigar up the ass of one fat gunman who had made the mistake of fucking her up her bottom when she had been working in Hetty's place. She spread his fat rump cheeks and wedged the still hot cigar through the closed cave mouth of his exterior anus. It crushed and simmered along the membrane tunnel, grinding out in a wave of burning pain to the unfortunate gunman.
The young killer was now the target of the fists of his unfortunate friends. He had been a real fast draw killer, a smoking terror. Six dead men to his credit before he was seventeen.
They paid him back for it, with the girls carving initials and dirty words into their backs with scratchy, sharp fingernails and deadly, razor edged knives. As they were hacked and cut, they beat the boy, smashing his jaw, battering out his teeth, breaking his nose.
After that they took another round at pissing on his bloodied face to revive him. This was not the end of it. They fell upon their knees one by one and licked the piss and blood up out of the dirt.
The girls rode them like stallions, driving them with bits of cactus and bramble bushes, whipping their flanks and bottoms raw. They shoved needles of cactus and bramble up their bottoms, and cut their lacerated backs up some more with knives and quirts.
They made their steeds graze, eating dirt and grass. They cut their faces up with the knives, slashing designs into their scarred features.
One of the worst of the gunnies was tied to a tree, arms extended overhead. He was a tall man with a crushed nose, and eyes sunk in scar tissue. He was already ugly enough, with his greasy shoulder length hair.
Apache Jane decided that his hair was too obscene. She hacked it off, cutting away a goodly part of his scalp as well with the deliberate clumsiness of her barbering. She greeted his screams with a smile, enjoying his grimacing, feature contorted agony. Blood ran into his eyes. She wiped it away with the remnants of his shirt, then stuffed it into his mouth. She half wedged it down his throat, almost choking him to death.
"Now that you have your hair cut neat, I ought to finish the job."
She slashed the sharp, bowie knife across the breadth of his chest. Tufts of chest hair danced away under the swirl of the knife blade, blowing off on the wind. Blood welled up from the scrape she had left on his chest. She chopped away all of the hair on his chest, cutting him up, and bloodying his flesh as she did so. She flayed away half of his skin accomplishing her defoliation.
She then went down his belly, scraping away the patch of hair below his navel. His flesh twitched and shook. His eyes rolled in terror.
His armpits were trickier. She had to dig and scrape deep down into the hollows to get all of the hair out. As she did this, she cut into him, tearing down far into the tissues, blood flowing down his sides.
She flayed his legs. To get off the hair she skinned away flaps of his skin and then peeled them off. He kicked and writhed in extreme anguish. He was just about finished. But Jane had more ordeals for him.
She looked over his flayed body, cutting away small bits of hair and the underlying skin that she had missed on her first sweep over his torn carcass.
She then went down to his groin, and began to cut away the hair without any real attempt to be careful. She half skinned his balls getting all of the stubborn hair off of them.
When she finished she looked over her victim. He was staring straight ahead into nothingness. He was in deep shock. She decided that he could afford no further amusement to appease her blood lust. She cut his throat from ear to ear.
Two of the girls seized a gunman with his arms bound behind his back. They shoved his face to the breast of the dying man, letting the blood flow all over his face. He fainted in fear, his vomit tossing up even after he had passed out.
"Not that easy. He doesn't get out of this so easily."
Jane revived him by pissing on his face. As he blubbered and choked, she set upon him with the branch of a tree. She beat him mercilessly, cutting his face and chest to bloody gore with the splintery branch.
She rolled him over and over, sending his tail into the still burning fire under which the screaming roasted killer was frying now to a golden brown.
His ass on fire, the screaming man rolled over and over, trying to smear out his blazing tail in the dirt. Jane delivered a kick to the balls that almost ruined him for good. She followed through by kicking in his ribcage. His rib bones cracked one by one with loud, clearly audible cracking noises.
He was lifted to his feet and a noose thrown over his cock and balls. Three girls lifted him into the air, hanging by his manhood, his genitals half severed by the weight of his body hanging from them. As he tossed and twisted and convulsed he tore up the inside of his chest upon his splintered ribs which were whipped apart by his struggles. He went into a spasm that continued until his death by shock.
The man roasting over the fire was staring up into the sky with lifeless eyes. The girls tore his body away and replaced it with another. As the next naked victim began to blaze, his screams of protest rose upon the winds of the devilish night.
A pack of wild dogs, attracted by the blood upon the wind, came sniffing close to the campsite, voicing their menace.
They were tossed the bound bodies of two of the prisoners, backs and bottoms ripped open by whips and knives. The pack of animals tore them apart, ripping off and devouring great pieces of the human meat.
Alice had one of the gunmen spread eagled against the wall of the mountain, his body a target for the sharp shooters. Bullets tore away fingers and toes, split his ears in half. They shot his elbows and knees to fragments, almost severed his hands and feet.
They finished up with a few bullets in the guts. He died choking on his own blood.
Nancy had recovered sufficiently to take her revenge upon Reno Jack. The man was untouched, and his body was all hers to destroy.
"You never thought that the tables would turn on you, did you you shit eating bastard?"
He kept a stony silence and returned her blazing stare with his own defiant glare of hatred. She kicked him in the balls, slowly at first, kick after kick jiggling his bag of sex, but not hurting too bad. At least not yet.
The kicking of her foot upon his balls broke his courage. His body gushed a stinking fear sweat, and his teeth chattered. Now he was totally afraid of the devilish things that an aroused and angry woman could do to him, things worse than death itself.
"Please, have mercy. I'm sorry for it. Honest I am. Don't do this to me."
She wedged his mouth open with a block of wood, almost prying his jaws apart. Then she used a set of pliers to pull every tooth in his mouth away, one by one. She pulled the back teeth first, the big stubborn ones. His body trembled and convulsed with pain when she tore out his molars. It was not easy to tear his teeth loose. Some of them came apart as she sawed and tugged upon them, and she had to take out the pieces, a difficult job. But dentistry is a matter of main force if you do not care what happens to the patient. And she did not care what happened to him, providing that it was nasty enough.
When she had emptied his mouth of ivory and only the bleeding torn gums remained, she filled his mouth with a huge rock and crushed his gums to pulp.
He was unable to talk after that. His face swollen up to three times normal size, he could only make animal, grunting noises.
She began to whip him. She used the lash he had been using upon her. It was a long, black cowhide whip. She coiled it around his belly a few times. It split open the skin with a fierce power. She whipped a few long cuts into his back. Muscular flesh was rent and split. It was a powerful implement for inflicting vengeance.
Red Ass Alice dragged her prisoner in to see the torture of her double-crossing lieutenant.
"Take a look, shit. What happens to him is a taste of what will happen to you."
Rubbing the ruins of her torn nipples, Hetty decided to play one last card.
"You come out ahead again. But most of the loss in on my side. I got a lot of nothing out of this. But I got one thing you don't know about. I made a lot of money in Bodie.
I have four hundred thousand in some banks in Chicago. It's a lot of money. I got half a million of my own money as well in this here chest, plus what I took from that stage. And I got one hundred thousand worth of property and belongings in Bodie, not counting my place, which is worth another hundred thousand. I can give it all to you, if you just turn me loose. Call it enough of a victory. You ruined my face, and destroyed my name. I got nowhere to go and nothing to do from now on. But at least I'll have my life, which is better than nothing."
"If you're willing to give me all that, you must have some more socked away in one of those Chicago banks. But it don't matter. You can keep that bank money, you won't ever be using it. It'll rot in that bank. I expect that there will be a few more wealthy bankers in Chicago, once they figure out after enough time has gone by that nobody will ever be showing up for that money."
"You can't turn down all that money. It ain't human."
"I got enough in this here chest, to keep me happy, and now I have two places in Bodie instead of one."
She kicked Hetty in the stomach, and when the woman doubled up, she kicked her in the face. Hetty went down, a patch of blood staining the inside of her hood. Alice whipped off the hood, exposing the one eyed visage of nightmare. The face was a broken, ill patched mass of scars.
"You certainly do look a sight. I suppose death isn't the worst thing that could happen to you now, considering the way you look."
Hetty dived for a gun in the corner of the mine chamber. She never made it. Alice caught her in the head with one bone crunching kick. Another smashed into the full of her mouth, spilling teeth out and cracking most of those that remained in her mouth.
Nancy was taking no notice of this exchange. She was sticking her victim with a long, hat pin. In and out of his armpits, screwing it into the hollows and twisting it back and forth, she thrust through right out of the top of his shoulders.
She pinched up his nipples, hairy pieces of light red skin. She pierced them through and opened up the holes by sawing on them, breaking them open until the nipples were ragged flaps of skin, which she pulled off him finally and flipped away.
She thrust deep into his bowels with the pin. She slowly sawed at the lining of his guts, the strong tissue right behind his abdominal muscles, blocking off the full thrust into his entrails. She pierced through this wall and then she sawed around in him, ripping and tearing. She pulled the hat pin out, dripping blood and sticky gore.
His emptied out, dazed eyes pleaded with her for mercy. She laughed at his pain, and filled his mouth with the shit that fell from his ass as his sphincter relaxed from the intensity of his animal fear.
"Now you bastard. Now, for my dead friend whom you murdered. Boasting about it, telling me how you did it, telling me how you were going to skin me alive, and throw my carcass to the dogs."
She rammed the hat pin into his ass, sticking it through right to the bone. In and out, dozens of jogged, blood-filled pinholes. She riddled his ass globes, and then she paused, fighting for energy. Her torments had sapped her strength.
"Do you want some help with him," Alice offered. "I'll get one of the girls in to help you finish him off."
"Thanks, but I want that pleasure for myself."
She plucked away at his hair, tearing out handfuls of it and flipping it away. He was a broken animal now, and the reactions of his body were the reactions of a frightened, suffering beast.
Nancy shoved the pin right through both of his balls. She shoved the pin through the hang of his left bag and out the outer skin of his right bag. She used the pin impaling his balls to shake and bounce them, tearing at the wound.
She pulled it out. She ran through the head of his cock, and then pierced the length of the shaft at one inch intervals, down to the base. Blood oozed from the stabbed thing.
She pierced each finger, through the fingerprint and right through the bone. She pierced his toes. She riddled each finger and toe, and the blood ran in streams down his arms, and poured out of his punctured feet in heavy pools on the dirty rock floor of the mine.
She stabbed her initials into his belly fat, twisting and jerking the pin around each time it had pierced through to his guts. She made his entrails leak out their sticky mush in small streams running down his body and mixing with the flood of blood and sweat that covered his flesh.
As the light of his life began to fade from his eyes, Nancy took a rest. She watched his body do its last little bit of twitching. When her strength had returned to her, she would finish him up. She began to heat a knife over a fire which Alice built up for her. She knew what she wanted to do to him next, and she only hoped that there was enough life left in him for the agony and the horror of it to be fully appreciated.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The ruins of the tortured killers lay in bondage, hanging from trees, or spread over fires. Some of them were still alive, still suffering.
Jane was sitting upon the face of the young gunslinger. He was eating the shit out of her ass, while she whittled on his stomach with a knife.
A fat man with a big beer gut hung from his little fingers from the low limb of a tree, his blackened feet roped over a low fire. His ass had been sawed and whittled with knives, and the pieces of meat cut off had been stuffed down his throat. Some of the girls had taken out years of mistreatment and long catalogues of wrongs done to them upon him and upon the other killers. They had paid not only for their own misdeeds, but for the atrocities of many others.
Some of the girls were feeling sickened by the things they had done. But in a time when life was cheap, lynchings were often slow torture, and death was cruel, they felt they had justification for what they had done.
At last, all of the killers had paid for what they had done. The last man alive gave up the ghost, roasting over a fire, stuffed full of shit and blood.
The dead were gathered into a heap, and the mountain of carcasses shoveled into a common grave.
"Nobody will be caring enough about this trash to dig any of them up," Jane said with satisfaction.
Cloris felt high and free. For the first time in her mistreated life she had struck back and revenged herself upon her enemies. It was a good feeling.
Back in the town, the whores found chaos and bloodshed. The miners had attacked the Golden Garter, after all. A dozen of the gunhands working for Hetty Malone were hanging from tree limbs along the edge of the town. The saloon was gutted and looted.
Wild, jubilant miners were raping the Garter girls in the streets. A lineup of horny miners stretched out in front of each kicking, struggling body. Cocks rammed into cunts and mouths. The miners took them two at a time, one of the cunt and one in the mouth. The girls were being fucked the way they had never been fucked in all of their professional lives.
The whores slipped into town quietly, and approached the Fuck Hole from the buck way. They wanted some rest, and a bit of quiet. They particularly did not want to answer a lot of fool questions about what had happened to the gold shipment.
Hetty was bound and gagged, and packed in a trunk in Alice's closet. It was up to her to answer the questions of the miners, and make them their restitution, but Hetty was hers, her own personal property.
Hetty would die slowly, the way Reno Jack had died. After regaining her vitality, Nancy had gone to work on him for the finisher. She had thrust the hatpin right through his groin, cork-screwing it up into his bowels. She had repeated this process again and again, until he had finally stopped moving. It was his finisher, and his body had hung limp in its bondage, his eyes staring unseeing and unmoving into nothingness.
Alice met a delegation of the miners and the mine owners. They were most interested in getting back their money.
"I have it for you, at least most of it," Alice informed them.
She kicked open the top of the chest. Inside was some three hundred thousand dollars in gold nuggets and dust.
One of the miners looked at her suspiciously after the count of the wealth had been made. "Are you sure that this is all of it?"
Alice regarded him with a wrathful expression and her hand dropped menacingly to her strapped on gunbelt, hovering near her .45.
"You wouldn't have any of it back except for me. So you watch your mouth mister. That's the better part of the bulk of it, minus my own money. Its about one hundred thousand or so light, but I'm afraid what happened to the rest of it is a secret they took with them."
"So you didn't take any of them alive?"
"Did you take any of them alive in town," she asked him with an innocent expression on her face. "No, I didn't think so. So why do you bother me asking if I took any of them alive. The whole bunch is finished off, and that makes an end to the whole thing. So cheer up. You got nearly three quarters of your money back, and that is the main thing. Now, the drinks are on me. Belly up to the bar, boys."
That ended the affair for her. She had taken out of the box over seven hundred thousand dollars, over one hundred of which belonged to the losers who had shipped on the stage. But it was her fee for regaining them the main part of their losses, even if they did not see it that way. Well, she thought, what they could not prove they could not hang her with. It made a nice amount of cash. She and her girls would be retiring soon, wealthy and set for life. A few months in Bodie would fill out the remainder of their money bags. It was too bad the Golden Garter was gutted. The mob had really sacked it. Still, the Fuck Hole would take in all of the business that they needed. And the time would soon be at hand that they could retire, set for life.
In her room, she opened up the trunk and rolled Hetty out on the floor. She dragged the bleeding woman by the stumps of her nipples over to the bed, and flopped her body down across it. She shoved her fingers into the wounds on Hetty's tits, indenting them, jabbing deep down into the pulp until she had ripped through the scabs formed on the wounds and far down into the main meat of the tit tissues.
She wallowed her fingers around inside the mushy, blood spurting pulp, her fingers visibly moving under the elastic skin of the breasts, piercing and wounding the still undamaged flesh.
She withdrew her hands, smeared with blood. Hetty went into convulsions, sorely wounded. Every inch of her body was gorged with sweat, and her throat was making odd rattling sounds, tongue protruding bloody past her lips, half bitten off in the extremity of her suffering.
Red Ass selected a bullwhip, a long and heavy one. She started with the scarred buttocks. She aimed at the old scars on the span of the globes, cutting them up, ripping open the meat and spilling her prey's blood. She tore away long flaps of the ass flesh, whipping until the full breadth of the bottom was shredded and lacerated. She whipped off small bits of flesh, tearing away at the soft meat.
Hetty rolled about in throes of death agony. Alice stomped on her tits, grinding her heels into the torn tits. She stamped the body, stomped the ribs cracking them one after the other. She kicked the jagged splinters of bones into Hetty's lungs and organs, and Hetty died choking on her own blood filling up her lungs. It swirled and bubbled in her throat. She literally died drowning in her own blood.
The body was buried in the back. Under the ground, in an unmarked hole. The dogs came sniffing around and Alice shot three of them. They went slinking off again, content with nothing.
The next day was a day of celebration. The girls were wilder than they had ever been celebrating victory and vengeance. They fucked and sucked for cut rates, jerking men off in the saloon.
Red Ass held a cock in each hand, jerking two miners as they paid homage to her big tits with their mouths. She let them nibble on her boobs, the saliva rolling down the curves of her knockers, as her hands made their cocks heat and erupt. She pulled and corkscrewed, bent the cannons in her hands and rolled them around, her hands bobbing back and forth along the shafts, faster and faster.
Apache Jane did her wild war whooping dance upon a table, whiskey running down her legs from her pussy which had been filled with it by enthusiastic and exuberant men. She took mouths and hands in her box, letting them drink the flowing liquor off her skin. Teeth bit patterns up and down the columns of her thighs.
"Come on you bastards, who wants to rim me?"
One of them jumped up on the table with her and dropped to his knees. He spread her cheeks and dipped his face into the cleavage. With wilder and wilder bobbings of his head he ate her out, cleaning out the inside of her bitch's twat. She played with his dick, taking it out and cleaning it off with her tongue, licking all along the shaft and snaking her long tongue around it like a lariat, roping it into her mouth and then sucking it clean.
Cloris and Dora and Maria were playing grab ass with all of the miners and drifters they could reach, running around the saloon stark naked, drinking with the miners, grabbing their bottoms, dropping hands down the fronts of their pants to whack them off. One of the burly miners shoved Cloris against the bar. He drank a whiskey out of her mouth, then he took out his cock and put it into her. He fucked her with all of his might, half plowing her through the bar. He lifted her up into the air and her legs twined around his back. She locked him into the vise of her tight little whore's pussy, trying to crush his meat flat in her embrace. He kept on fucking away, turning her ass down on the bar, drinking in the fiery delights of her mouth while he continued to bull her, his thing filling her box, her whole body hot and reacting to his fucking.
When he had finished with her, he slid her down the bar, legs wide, to one of his friends. The second man took her holding her with her ass braced upon the bar and her ankles laid across his shoulders. He buried his face in her bosom, sweat burning upon his skin, as he bit and chewed on her boobs, corkscrewing the nipples around inside his mouth, driving her half mad with the pleasure.
Maria grabbed this man's ass and shoved her tongue up into the clotted, dried hairs of his brown stains, cleaning out his ass. She poured whiskey along his crack line and ate it off him.
A man grabbed her and thrust his thing into her mouth. She ate him, sucking all of the come out of his nuts in less than two minutes. She gargled it around in her mouth, spewing it up and letting it run down between her breasts. She fingerfucked herself, and as she came, she mixed her own pussy cream with the come flowing out of his balls. She went running through the place, grabbing all of the cock around. Two men dropped her down on a table. One planted his cock in her cunt and the other chose her mouth. In and out, fast and true. Her mouth blowing up, expanding and filling out with the contractions and thrusts of the dick moving around inside her mouth.
He fucked out her face, the hot cream bubbling out of her mouth. He plunged in and out, hitting deep into her throat. His buddy fucked her cunt, the vise tight moist box orgasming in rolling contractions and sensual writhings as he expanded down into the back of it and bulled along the sheath. He kept on shoving in and out of her with ever growing frenzy, eager for the last surge that would send his load plummeting into her warmth.
The orgy went on all around the room. There was fucking and sucking, and the jerking off of cocks. Jane spewed cocks straight up into the air, catching the shooting seed in her open mouth, a trick well worth the watching.
She went on a drinking tear, matching drinks with hand jobs, pulling off man after man as she drank with them. She collected the come in her hands and wiped her hands off into her glass. She mixed hot seed with raw gut whiskey, and drank down the hot and wild brews. Soon she was drinking straight sperm, and the men lined up to feed it to her. She abandoned the hand to mouth part of the operation and drank it straight out of the cock. She took on one man after another, and the number grew to epic proportions. Soon, she had sucked the cocks of some twenty men in a row, and she showed no signs of weakening.
Alice joined the orgy. Her skilled hands whacked off brace after brace of cocks, two by two. After a time she was dizzy with all of the action she was handling in hand and mouth. She flopped her belly upon the bar and handled it with her asshole while drinking. She vised cocks up her anus, shoved them in good and deep, and then did the grind and bend on them, making them yield up their hot cream.
After a time this also was tiring and her ass had the feel of raw meat. She abandoned this and flipped around to give them the full treatment in the honey pot. Money filled her hands, and she took one man after another, a regular gang bang. There were vast crowds of them filling up the place, and she began to see that she had started something that she could not possibly finish.
The whole town seemed to be trying to burst into the place. There were hundreds lined up outside.
The party was breaking up, many of the girls seeking the refuge of the rooms upstairs where they could take on their customers one at a time in the usual and time honored way, before they wore their quims away.
Alice took on a last bunch of the horny bastards, counting a dozen men in her twat in less than thirty minutes. It was a record for her, and she took them in and set them out so fast that each man received minimal satisfaction.
She went upstairs to one of the rooms, dragging along a stud by each hand, jerking them as they moved with her. Two others hung on to her big tits and kneaded the naked cheeks of her ass.
Inside her room, one fastened to each tit, sucking the huge red nipples. The long tips moved around inside their gums, cleaning out their teeth. They could almost draw milk out of those big teats.
One on her mouth filled her with cock, his balls wobbling on her chin. The fourth took her in the classical way, her legs wrapped around his neck, pumping deep into her twat.
She fucked and fucked, her hot spirits rising with each thrust down into her chamber. She emptied the four of them out simultaneously, her hands serving to drain the two tit suckers.
The orgy broke up in the small hours of the morning. The beds and floors were swimming with come, and it was all of another full day before whores could once more bare to drag a cock into their burned out quims.
