Ramsey turned. “Steward?”
The door opened and the steward’s eyes immediately turned to the floor even though Bessella’s raw ass and swollen sex were flared up for his view. She licked Count Hellor’s seed from her lips and enjoyed the taste. She wanted more.
The steward said, “Yes, my lord?”
“Bring me and my guests three droughts of wine,” Ramsey said.
“Six,” Hellor corrected. Bessella saw his shaft growing thick and stout again. She wondered and hoped that their session might not be finished. He caught her looking and smiled as he stroked himself for her. “It is a party after all.”
“Six draughts,” Ramsey said. “And a platter stacked high with a generous selection of all the fruits. After that, we are not to be disturbed until I call you again.”
“Yes, lord.”
The door closed again and Hellor stood still massaging his growing thickness. “Yes, dear, we are going to have amazing adventures together.”
Bessella swallowed and smiled. “Yes, lord.”
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TEMPTATION TALES
Story 17
“I’d reckon you’d have more use of the weapon in your holster than the one inside your pants, partner.” The wild eyed redhead sneered at Gerry Clemson as he fumbled with his belt buckle.
“For gosh sakes, Sally Mae,” The older man wheezed, “You’ve sure got a dirty mouth on you, I’m paying you good money… so can’t you be a little nice to me and then some.”
“You’re paying to get the syrupy treat between my legs, honey.” She slapped her shapely thigh. “You want sweet talking, that’s a whole lot extra.”
“Dang, I’ll just settle for the loving then.” He sported a gap toothed grin.
And that’s the last thing he did before blacking out. He didn’t see the heavy sandbag come crashing down on his head as the young woman before him yanked at the overhead rope, triggering its fall. She grabbed the leather pouch of money from his limp hands and laughed shrilly. That was the third time this week she had successfully seduced a man of good standing and taken his money, for nothing in return. They could all dream of taking her virginity while she took their gold instead.
Sally Mae Parkinson hefted the leather pouch in her small hand. It had to have at least twenty coins in it. Gold coins, glittering and shiny. She smiled and looked at her reflection in the cracked window. She could get herself that bottle of well aged whisky now.
“Darn, I could do this forever.” She whistled at the red haired, green eyed, nineteen year old that looked back at her from the dusty reflective surface of the glass window. A heart shaped face, full red lips and dimpled nose added to her charm, and the soft curvy body that made men lose their minds was her sole weapon. It had always worked without fail.
Nevertheless she picked up the old man’s gun and hid it in the thigh holster under her long flowing skirt. Patting her skirt down around her curvy hips she stepped into the pale sunset, her riding boots crushing down hard on the cobblestones outside the bank. Two weeks in this town and she had already made enough money than she ever did back in New York. Now she just had to get that drink.
The saloon was open all day and till late at night. The whisky bottle with her name on it was still there, she knew. She sauntered in and strode up to the bar counter, every pair of eyes in the cozy lounge following her.
“Hey, Charlie.” She drawled at the portly man behind the bar. “Let’s have that good old firewater you’ve been saving for me.”
“No can do, Missy.” Charlie the barman gave her a shrug. “Sheriff’s orders. No hard liquor for ladies in this town.”
“Are you kidding me, barkeep.” Sally Mae hissed. “I’ve got the gold right here... and I’m no lady.”
***
“Listen, Sally Mae.” Charlie leaned in and whispered. “There’s talk of how you get your gold and none of it good. The Sheriff’s got his eye on you.”
“Well he can look all he wants with either eye and I get my gold the way I like…” She glared at him. “I want that drink now, bartender.”
“Real sorry, Miss.” Charlie shrugged again. “Sheriff’s laid down the law here and its iron clad.”
“You mean old Hornsby’s grown a pair of brass ones…” Sally Mae laughed, jiggling her lush breasts under the tight blouse. “This I’ve got to see.”
“Hornsby’s just a deputy, an acting Sheriff,” Charlie eyed her generous bosom and took a quick swig of tequila himself. “Until Marshall Cole Shannon gets back from cleaning up Hodge Town back east.”
“Who’s Cole Shannon?” She raised an eyebrow. “He sounds interesting.”
“He’s the law around here, ever since the town got up.” Charlie gave her a wink.
“Well, I’ve never seen him in the two weeks I’ve moved down here.” Sally Mae shrugged. “And I don’t give a fuck what law or whore he lays down, you’re getting me my whisky or else…”
“Do what you will, Sally Mae.” The bartender shrugged back. “Sheriff Shannon gets back in town tonight and all your shenanigans are over.”
Gritting her teeth, Sally Mae viciously spun on her heel and stormed out of the saloon, roughly shoving old Rancher Samuels out of her way.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, Miss.” Samuels wailed, stumbling forward and grabbing at the bar counter.
“Go to hell, you old cow lover.” She sneered and slapped her round buttock for emphasis.
“What did she call me?” The old rancher scratched his bald head.
“Never mind her, Caleb.” Charlie called out from behind the bar. “What’ll it be, the usual?”
“Make it a double, Charlie.” Samuels sighed.
“A double…” Sally Mae hissed as she stormed into the stables. “I’ll give you all some double trouble right now.”
Saddling and mounting one of the tethered horses, she released the rest and began whooping and yelling. The frightened stallions and mares bolted as she made her ride rear up and whinny. The sudden cacophony roused the dogs and other dozing animals.
“Yee-haw, you mangy oat grazers… git!” Her shrill voice cut through the horses’ frenzied neighs and hoof beats.
She rode out, chasing the horde of thundering animals before her, driving them to crash into fences, coops, pens and haystacks. She whipped out the pistol she stole from Gerry Clemson, the banker, and began shooting wildly into the air.
Soon she had a large crowd gather all around the saloon. Men and women clamored to see what was going on, others were content to peer out of paned windows and swinging doors. A few, bolder and tired of this boisterous brat of a woman, gathered in a circle around her. Most of the errant horses had been subdued or had fled. The dogs had quietened and the chickens mostly cooped.
“What’s the meaning of this?” A small bearded man in a dark suit and with graying hair demanded, shaking a fist at her.
“Ah, Mayor Burke.” Sally Mae sniggered. “Why it’s so good to see you again, with your pants on this time.”
“Silence, you thieving harlot.” The short man glared at her. “You think being acquainted to Judge Nichols gives you free reign around here?”
“Not just acquainted, Burke…” She grinned. “He’s my aunt’s husband’s second cousin.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to boss us around here anymore, Miss Parkinson.” Merle Daggett, the fat doctor, shook his head angrily.
“You’re under arrest for willful destruction of public property and attempt to cause harm to the peace minded citizens of Dalton Town.” Deputy Hornsby spoke up.
“And who’s going to arrest me, Horny?” She threw back her head and laughed.
***
“I am!” A cold and deep voice cut through the angry rumbling all around.
Sally turned her head and looked at the direction of the voice defiantly. “And who the blazes are you?”
“Marshall Cole Hiram Shannon, Sherriff of this here Dalton Town.” The ta
ll, steel eyed man eased his dark hued stallion through the crowd.
Sally Mae felt a chill run down her spine. He was definitely the most intimidating man she had ever seen. The way he sat on his well lathered steed and the confidence of his demeanor emanated power and strength. He had been riding hard, getting back from Hodge Town but he didn’t show any signs of fatigue. His keen eyes locked onto hers and she had to look away.
“So you’re the elusive Sheriff of Dalton.” She sneered, looking around at the hushed crowd and waving her gun. “And just how are you going… oohhh!”
She hand stung, from her wrist to the elbow. She hadn’t even seen him draw and shoot, but her gun flew out of her hand, leaving her fingers numb. She gasped and stared at him in disbelief, his smoking gun was back in its holster already.
“As my deputy said, Miss Parkinson...” His cold voice pierced her soul. “You’re under arrest. And you’d best come quietly, else I might need to shoot off something you’d really be missing.”
Sally Mae hung her head and sighed softly. Maybe there would be some whisky in the Sherriff’s office.
***
The loud clang of the chains on her hands hitting the steel bars jarred her ears. She had grown tired of slamming the bars with the chains and looked around glumly at the filthy cell for the hundredth time. A single dirty cot hung from the wall, and a small stinky bowl stood overturned in the corner. She had hoped Shannon would have taken her to his office for a talk, but he had thrown her into the gloomy cell and left her there.
She hated the sight of him. He seemed oblivious to her charms. Hornsby was so easy to play around, but not this Marshall. She had cracked hard nuts before, but this time it seemed she had run into a wall of granite. It was almost three hours since she was in the cell, she began to feel hungry. She slammed the chains on her wrists against the bars one more time.
“Good evening, Miss Parkinson.” Shannon’s cold voice made her jump.
She eyed him warily. She could look at him more clearly now, inside the Sheriff’s well lit office. He was a tall man, and broad shouldered. He looked as tough as a prize bull, though his dark hair was graying at the temples and a bit in front. His face was ruggedly handsome, a bit red and weather beaten. He could have been forty or less. He had huge hands and thick muscular arms and his powerful legs stretched the leather riding trousers he had on. His shirt had two buttons open in front and she marveled at his deep hairy chest, wondering how it would feel to run her hands over it. His gun belt hung low on his hips and with his ten gallon hat slung over his back, he leaned on the door, looking at her intensely with his cold steel grey eyes.
“You think it’s a good evening, old man?” She rasped, spitting over her shoulder in disgust.
“I must apologize for our present availability of accommodation,” He drawled with a sly grin as he sat on the edge of his desk. “But I’m sure a girl of your standing will find yourself at home in these here squalid conditions.”
“Oh, go to hell, you old bastard.” She hissed spitefully, clutching at the bars.
“I’ve been there, Missy.” His chilly eyes looked distant. “And let me tell you, it isn’t a cozy place.”
“You should have stayed there…” She cried out desperately. “Let me out of here.”
“I’ve heard much about you, Sally Mae Parkinson.” He nodded grimly, placing his hat on the table. “And nothing good, I’m afraid.”
“You should be afraid.” Sally Mae half sobbed. “When Judge Nichols gets to hear of this…”
“He’ll do squat, young lady.” Shannon smiled coldly. “Or he’ll find himself joining you in there.”
“Who do you think you are?” She couldn’t control the disquiet in her stained voice.
“I am the law and order here.” He replied, coolly examining the double barrels of his shotgun. “I am the Sheriff.”
“Oh, you can go fuck yourself, high and mighty sheriff.” She laughed nervously.
“Quite a nasty mouth you have got there…” The graying haired Sheriff nodded ruefully. “Here in Dalton, we don’t care much for women with such nasty mouths… not even for the lovely girls in the brothel.”
“You’d care if you had a cock that got hard.” Sally Mae jeered daringly. “Judging by your cold demeanor, I’d say you haven’t had a hard-on since your hair turned gray.”
“How old are you, Missy?” Shannon gave her a tight smile. “Nineteen or Twenty?”
“Why, do only old hags get you up?” She mocked him with a bitter laugh.
“I can tell just a normal little stint in jail isn’t going to set you straight…” Shannon rubbed his grizzled chin. “And since you’re such a mighty good looking gal and all, I know just the thing that will.”
“Oh yeah, and just what the hell are you going to do to set me straight?” She snorted, sticking her tongue out at him.
“Oh, I have just the thing... or three.” He grinned slyly.
She watched as he stuck a large iron key into the keyhole and with a powerful twist of his thick wrist he opened the door. Sally Mae rushed him, swinging her chained hands for his head. Shannon ducked under her, deftly grabbing at the chains on her wrists as his immense shoulder drove into her belly. She felt all the breath leave her at once and gasped as he rose up lifting her over his shoulder. She felt like a day old heifer would, slung across his powerful shoulders. His firm palm clamped down over her left buttock and he squeezed it hard.
“Oh, you filthy beast…unhand me…let me go.” She wailed, struggling to free herself.
“Why, didn’t I hear that you love the adoring affections of older men…?” Shannon gave her buttock a sharp pinch. “And that you seduce them to get their gold?”
“Fuck you, you old horseshit gatherer.” She spat vehemently.
“Ah, come, come, little Miss Sally Mae.” He laughed, as he grasped at a huge iron ring on the floor and yanked it up along with the trap door attached to it. “There’s plenty for you to shout about once we get your jail term started.”
“Where are we going?” She asked apprehensively as he descended the creaking wooden stairway leading down.
The musty, dust filled air choked her as he kept descending into the darkness. After a while he stopped and threw her to the moss covered ground. She fell with a thump, her breath momentarily leaving her body. It was too dark to see anything as she gathered her wits, wrestling with the chains and the turmoil in her mind.
Suddenly the underground chamber filled with a pale golden light as Shannon struck a match and lit a few candles. He flipped a cigarillo into his thin lips and lit it soon after. Puffing out smoke he glared down at her, slowly fingering his brass belt buckle.
“What the fuck are we doing down here?” She screamed.
***
“Yes, indeed.’ He nodded slowly. “What the fuck… are we doing here?”
“Well, we know we can’t fuck…” Sally Mae shrieked defiantly. “Not with the limp dick that you…”
“Hush… you’ve been a bad girl, and this is your hell.” His voice grew sepulchral. “Sally Mae, I hereby condemn you to intense rigorous punishment without parole.”
“Fuck you, you old assh…” She gasped as he roughly yanked her up and threw her over a saddle stile. He grabbed the chains on her wrist and fastened them over the far side. She hung over the log with her pert rump sticking up invitingly. The long flowing skirt she wore rode up a little, exposing her shapely legs up to her smooth thighs.
“That’s more like it.” Shannon grunted, puffing away at his cigarillo. “And now, to get things started… let me…”
In the dim light, she craned her neck to see him fetch something from a wooden box. He turned around and stood up, holding two wooden paddles in his hand. One was about the size of a large hand, made of Oak, while the other was longer and had round metal studs embedded in it. He held both by the red leather strapped handles and waved them around like butcher’s knives.
“What the hell are you going to do with
those?” Her green eyes went wide and she felt a shiver run down her spine.
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, Missy.” Shannon leered at her, tossing the paddles down on a footstool beside her. “You’ve been a naughty little girl, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, so what… you’re going to spank me?” She dared him.
“You took the words right out of my mouth, you little minx.” He flashed her a brilliant smile.
“Do your worst, spank me…” She suddenly purred, as if she wanted to be punished.
Shannon reached over and pushed her skirt up, all the way until it bunched over her lower back. Her soft white, porcelain smooth, buttocks gleamed in the golden light; warm and inviting. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath and she heard him take a sharp breath. The old man liked what he saw, she smirked to herself.
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