name is Gaditano.”
“How strange,” Esmeralda noted. “You look to kill one bull above all others.”
“Yes,” Manolo answered.
“You will spend your life to kill one bull.”
“This isn’t just one bull. It is a demon with four legs.”
Again, the room fell into silence for what seemed an eternity, until Esmeralda spoke her mind.
“I’m imaging you’re too spent to fuck again, and my ass can’t take another pounding. Do you want another massage and try to rest some?”
“Why not?” the matador answered, thinking now of his hated enemy on the Manzano ranch. “Why not?”
Chapter Eight
Normally, a bullfight from Nogales would not have been seen on national television, but because Manolo Garza and Fernando De La Torre were fighting together, there was sufficient interest to air the event. The hottest new sensation alternating with the veteran star. A formula for greatness.
Lucinda watched the screen as a commentator told of the careers of both men, bringing up as usual the horrendous injury Manolo had received on the Manzano ranch. The press, too, seemed never willing to let the matter rest.
From high above, the trumpet sounded and the band exploded in the playing of Cielo Andaluz . As they did, the wooden gates were opened, and Manolo Garza strode into the ring, looking regal in a costume of black and gold. De La Torre was to the far side of him, wearing white and silver.
With both men offering smiles unbecoming people who were about to face death, they entered the stadium. Slowly, they walked across the sand in the opening parade as applause swelled around them, followed by the banderilleros and picadores who would help them in the functions of the spectacle this day.
Lucinda held no real interest in De La Torre, and while she wished him no harm, he was not the true focus of her enthusiasm. It was Manolo she loved, though at times she was starting to question why.
She had not wanted to go to Nogales, but opted to stay in their Mexico City apartment, so far away from the border. She had prayed for Manolo that afternoon as she always did, but in his absence, like always, she had been left a keepsake to remember him by. Her own buttocks were healing, but sore via bruises from the session before he flew out to Hermosillo, visited the Manzano ranch, and caught a train to Nogales.
If only she could yield to Manolo’s strange nature and relish the spankings. What they did was so bizarre. It even seemed abnormal. He punished her like a little girl whenever she did something awkward or displeasing. At other times, he punished before sex and sometimes afterward. Whatever happened to just good old fashioned fucking?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a roar from the crowd as the first bull of the day, going to De La Torre, plodded slowly into the ring. It was big, but not terribly fast.
“Go! Go!”
The words came to her. Terrified cries as Rafael Gonzalez ushered her dying man into the truck and strove to save his life. As a manager now, he was in Nogales somewhere behind the fence watching the action as nervously as she would be when it came to Manolo’s turn.
“Is he gonna make it?”
“Get him to a fucking hospital!”
“I’ve got him!”
She wondered how big Gaditano was now and exactly what Manolo was planning. This long day of revenge he constantly spoke of was still vague to her. Perhaps he had no concrete plan, yet somewhere in her mind she knew better.
“Ow!”
She thought of the spanking she had received just before Manolo was on his way north. As usual, her pants were down and Manolo was into delivering the blows far more than she was at receiving.
“Owwww!”
She could hear her own cries.
“Owwwww…”
She was stretched across his lap like usual with her pants and panties down by her ankles, taking blow after blow with a hair brush.
“Ow. Ow. Ow.”
These rituals were really getting hard to take.
“Ole!”
Fernando De La Torre has finished his cape work with his
“How strange,” Esmeralda noted. “You look to kill one bull above all others.”
“Yes,” Manolo answered.
“You will spend your life to kill one bull.”
“This isn’t just one bull. It is a demon with four legs.”
Again, the room fell into silence for what seemed an eternity, until Esmeralda spoke her mind.
“I’m imaging you’re too spent to fuck again, and my ass can’t take another pounding. Do you want another massage and try to rest some?”
“Why not?” the matador answered, thinking now of his hated enemy on the Manzano ranch. “Why not?”
Chapter Eight
Normally, a bullfight from Nogales would not have been seen on national television, but because Manolo Garza and Fernando De La Torre were fighting together, there was sufficient interest to air the event. The hottest new sensation alternating with the veteran star. A formula for greatness.
Lucinda watched the screen as a commentator told of the careers of both men, bringing up as usual the horrendous injury Manolo had received on the Manzano ranch. The press, too, seemed never willing to let the matter rest.
From high above, the trumpet sounded and the band exploded in the playing of Cielo Andaluz . As they did, the wooden gates were opened, and Manolo Garza strode into the ring, looking regal in a costume of black and gold. De La Torre was to the far side of him, wearing white and silver.
With both men offering smiles unbecoming people who were about to face death, they entered the stadium. Slowly, they walked across the sand in the opening parade as applause swelled around them, followed by the banderilleros and picadores who would help them in the functions of the spectacle this day.
Lucinda held no real interest in De La Torre, and while she wished him no harm, he was not the true focus of her enthusiasm. It was Manolo she loved, though at times she was starting to question why.
She had not wanted to go to Nogales, but opted to stay in their Mexico City apartment, so far away from the border. She had prayed for Manolo that afternoon as she always did, but in his absence, like always, she had been left a keepsake to remember him by. Her own buttocks were healing, but sore via bruises from the session before he flew out to Hermosillo, visited the Manzano ranch, and caught a train to Nogales.
If only she could yield to Manolo’s strange nature and relish the spankings. What they did was so bizarre. It even seemed abnormal. He punished her like a little girl whenever she did something awkward or displeasing. At other times, he punished before sex and sometimes afterward. Whatever happened to just good old fashioned fucking?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a roar from the crowd as the first bull of the day, going to De La Torre, plodded slowly into the ring. It was big, but not terribly fast.
“Go! Go!”
The words came to her. Terrified cries as Rafael Gonzalez ushered her dying man into the truck and strove to save his life. As a manager now, he was in Nogales somewhere behind the fence watching the action as nervously as she would be when it came to Manolo’s turn.
“Is he gonna make it?”
“Get him to a fucking hospital!”
“I’ve got him!”
She wondered how big Gaditano was now and exactly what Manolo was planning. This long day of revenge he constantly spoke of was still vague to her. Perhaps he had no concrete plan, yet somewhere in her mind she knew better.
“Ow!”
She thought of the spanking she had received just before Manolo was on his way north. As usual, her pants were down and Manolo was into delivering the blows far more than she was at receiving.
“Owwww!”
She could hear her own cries.
“Owwwww…”
She was stretched across his lap like usual with her pants and panties down by her ankles, taking blow after blow with a hair brush.
“Ow. Ow. Ow.”
These rituals were really getting hard to take.
“Ole!”
Fernando De La Torre has finished his cape work with his
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