![Image](https://i.ibb.co/7z0wfTP/City-Slicker.png)
Chapter 1
The saloon fell quiet as Burt Jackson walked into the room, the swinging doors making the only audible sound. The honkytonk had swallowed its keys, the poker game had died down, and even the flies all sat still against the window panes.
Burt pulled down his dusty red bandanna from around his face and let it settle around his neck. He rubbed his jaw, a strong jaw that was always covered by a day old stubble. He readjusted his pale leather hat on top of his dark mop of hair. There was absolute silence in the room as his green eyes scanned the saloon for anybody to challenge him.
The silence ticked on.
A fly was the first one to break the silence followed by the honkytonk slowly starting up again.
Burt made his way to the bar, lined behind the counter with enough drinks for a fortnight and in front of the counter drunks who had possibly been drinking that long.
His spurs clinking with every step.
He got to the bar. “The usual Jer.”
Jerry poured him a glass of whiskey, in silence, and Burt downed it in one gulp.
“Is he here?”
“Y-y-yes” the bar tend stuttered.
Everybody knew who he was, he was Burt Jackson, or as people called him Burt the Roper. He was one of the toughest guns in the west. He was a feared and respected bounty hunter. He got his nickname from the account he always left his bounty victims trussed up to such an extent even the lawmen couldn’t always get them free without cutting the ropes. On top of that was the rumors that he didn’t merely catch his men but also did a little bit of rehabilitation therapy on them. To ensure they stayed on the right side of the law.
There were those that believed he had to have a bounty on his head to for the things he had done. But to them he would say, who has no red in their ledger…
“Third door,” Jerry lost his voice, and he cleared his throat, “third door on the left.”
Burt sauntered over to the stairs his dusty chaps creaking and his spurs clinking away. The room had regained its jubilee by the time he reached the stairs. He headed up passing a dancing girl on the way up, they met glances and he licked his dry lips as she blew him a kiss. Not tonight darling, he thought, or actually never. Among all the rumors were also ones that he didn’t exactly have an eye for the ladies, but rather enjoyed the company of men. So many rumors around him, only he knew the truth. And that is why he was revered, the unknown is always frightening.
He walked up to the third door on the left. Inside was his latest bounty. Some rich kid from the east who had come here and started stealing money from the banks with schemes of railroad investments. Burt hated them the most, white collars. At least get your hands dirty.
Burt kicked the door in just as the boy pulled up his pants, Burt knew that look, he was going to make a run for it.
“Huh, uh, uh” murmured Burt, he glanced down at his left hand, his six shooter aiming at the young man. “Gettum up cowboy.”
The man lifted his hands slowly. He was young, his body slim but muscled, his blonde hair thin and wispy, his skin almost pale and his face not accustomed to the sun of the west; he was a city slicker.
“That’s grand, now on the ground will ya”
Burt jumped on him the moment he was down and pulled his wrists behind his back. He folded the young man’s arms at right angles. These kids from the east are so frail. Burt lashed his forearms together creating a nice square behind the back of the guy. He looked at the boy’s biceps, with his arms pulled back like this they looked decent, but he was sure this city slicker had never done an honest day’s work in his life.
Burt wrapped ropes around his upper arms below and above his biceps and pulled them tight into the small of his back. His prey winced as the rope cut into his skin a little, that was enough to break the well of silence that had built up.
“Please, please let me go. I swear I will leave back to the city today. Please I didn’t mean to do it.”
“What’s that kid? You didn’t mean to plan and rob six banks, your jig is up boy. The law has caught up. Now shut your boozer.”
“Please, please don’t hurt me. I know who you are. Please don’t hurt me. Please please.” He started crying softly while still mumbling for mercy.
Burt yanked his bandanna off his neck and grabbed the blonde head that lay sobbing beneath him, he pulled back and strained the bandanna between the trembling lips. Burt drew tight and made a knot in the back. The mumbles were now reduced to simple whimpers. He patted the check of the man before him. Then his eye caught something. There was a warm bath drawn, the steam and the bubbles inviting him to it.
Burt looked down at his bounty and smiled. He definitely had the time. He just needed to finish trussing this cowpoke and then he can enjoy the bath.
He briskly pulled off the kid’s pants leaving him naked in the warm air of the room, then proceeded to fold his legs double, ankles almost digging into his own ass before wrapping each lower leg to the corresponding thigh. His victim squirmed slightly but he was far from done.
He placed the bare feet of his little package together and roped them together. He particularly enjoyed touching the boy’s feet and watching him wiggle and giggle. He was ticklish. That was great news for later.
Satisfied his boy wasn’t going anywhere Burt headed to the door and shut it. He closed the latch and knew he was now alone with his bounty, he heard the saloon party going on downstairs and knew no one would dare interrupt Burt the Roper. Time to keep the enigma of Burt the Roper alive… the more crazy stories everyone spread about him the less anyone would know the truth.
He got back to his quarry and lifted his head so the boy could see him smile, “comfortable? Nope? That’s grand, coz we aren’t going for comfort. You know the money you stole from good honest people, for what? Some fancy living somewhere far from here. People around these parts work for every penny they have. You on the other hand will work for each of those pennies tonight.”
Burt had now pulled the kid’s bound feet tight to his already roped arms, the man was pushing out his rock hard cock into the dry wooden floor. He squealed into his bandanna gag as he writhed trying to get relief from the strict bondage.
One last touch before I take my bath. He looped rope around the boy’s head pulling it tight between his already gagged jaws and tying it back to his secured feet. The kid was forced to pull his head back at an uncomfortable angle, breathing heavily into his extreme cleave gag. Tears flowing down his cheeks and his blond hair wet from sweat due to the straining.
Burt took off his hat and gun belt and dropped them on the cheap metal frame bed. He drew his hand through the warm water and gave a moan of relief. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, revealing a chiseled chest with some fur on his pecs and a trail heading south between the valleys of his abs and disappearing into his faded jeans. He unbuckled his chaps and dropped them onto the bed too. He removed his boots next and dropped them near the head of his trussed up kid. The smell wafted over to the boy and he pulled a face as he smelled the stench of days’ worth of sweating. The socks were next also right under his nose. Lastly Burt pulled off his jeans and underwear and placed his large hairy legs into the warm water.
His arm muscles bulged as he lowered himself into the tub, feeling weeks of dirt almost floating off him. He sighed a contented sigh and looked over to his little bundle of joy who was having a horrible time. This was the best part of bounty hunting, giving thieves and bandits what they deserved.
The second best part was to follow after his bath…