Sarah's Playmates

by Virginia Wade

  “Say my name again!” Her finger slid between swollen lips, which were so bloated, they pressed together.

  Whatever resistance I had been able to maintain melted. “Brack…”

  “That’s it. Now you’re mine.” She sat up quickly, discarding her jacket. “It sure is hot in here.” She continued to sound low and raspy, trying to emulate a man. “Now spread those pretty legs, lady. I’m gonna have to investigate every little bit of what you got here.”

  “Oh, my…goodness…”

  She blew gently across my skin, the coldness of the effect highlighting how wet I had become. As her tongue skimmed over my nub, her hands slid up my chest, reaching for my breasts. My nipples were rolled and pinched, the sensations leaving me weak and gasping. My eyes were closed, and all I could think about was the train robber. If we had been alone, would things have gone this far? It was a shame that I would never see him again. His sort ended up shot by the law or hung by the courts.

  But…none of that mattered now. “Oh, Brack…”

  “I think you’re lying to me, lady. I think you’re hiding something deep inside here. I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

  If I hadn’t been so aroused, the sound of her voice would have been amusing and her words even more so. The situation was ridiculous, but my body’s reaction to her touch wasn’t a joke. We had taken a deliciously naughty path from which none of us wanted to deviate. Firm fingers drove through the silky wetness of my pussy, sinking in deeply. She wiggled them, twisting around and massaging me intimately. With a skill that matched Millie’s, her tongue prodded, pushing and manipulating my clit, creating a burst of tiny flitters that fanned out from my core.

  “Brack!”

  The game was now over. The attention she paid my lower anatomy had grown very serious indeed. She was fully invested in pleasuring me, her fingers rubbing and moving in my tight tunnel. I touched her scalp, urging her on. I began to pant, my chest rising and falling, as if I had just dashed out of the way of a moving carriage.

  “Oh-OH! Oh, my…goodness…gracious…” I caught a glimpse of Millie, slumped against the chair, working her cunt feverishly. She was nearing her peak. “Oh, you bad bandit. Bad…”

  Isabelle tried to push three fingers into me, but the snugness of the orifice wouldn’t allow it, so she continued with two, reaming me thoroughly. I wanted to hold off the orgasm for a few minutes longer, but my body had other ideas. I arched my back, moaning uncontrollably.

  “Brack! Oh, God, Brack!”

  My nerve endings burst wide open like Chinese fireworks on the Fourth of July. I grasped the bedspread, clutching the material, while I convulsed helplessly, the springs creaking loudly.

  “Oh, bless…me…” moaned Millie, in the clutches of her own release.

  When I peaked at the room, I saw my soon to be sister-in-law. “You’re so…” Words failed me.

  She grinned, removing the man’s shirt, exposing a chest filled with pale, lovely breasts. “This will be our dirty little secret.”

  “Now you sound like Millie.”

  “I wondered about you.”

  I sat up, tossing thick strands of blonde hair over my shoulder. “How?”

  “I have a sense about people. I wondered if you’d be fun.”

  Overwhelmed by emotion and feeling utterly at peace, I flung my arms around her, burrowing my face in her neck. “From this day forward, you’re my sister. I won’t think of you as any less.”

  “I was prepared to hate you. I’ve met some of my brother’s other suitors, and they were awful. I thought you’d be just the same. I’m so glad I was wrong.”

  My hands cupped her breasts. “It’s my turn. I want to make you scream my name when you…find your pleasure.”

  Her grin was enormous. “Then I better get these pants off.”

  “They look ridiculous on you, by the way.”

  “I’ve never had such fun.” She kicked the trousers free, knocking the revolver to the floor, where it discharged. The sound of the weapon firing at such proximity had my ears popping painfully. Acrid smoke filled the room.

  “Dear Lord in heaven!” shouted Millie. “That wasn’t empty at all! We could’ve been killed!”

  I met Isabelle’s horrified gaze. “Oh, my God,” she uttered. “I…oh, God. I thought I took the bullets out.”

  “Maybe there was one left?”

  “I…oh, dear. Edmund always said women and guns don’t mix.”

  I slid from the bed. “There’s a hole in the wall now.”

  “I’ll shove some paper in it, and it’ll be good as new,” laughed Isabelle.

  She had pointed the gun at Millie and I repeatedly. We could have been shot! A naughty idea formed. “You deserve a spanking for that, Isabelle. That was very stupid. Stupid girls should be punished.”

  Millie nodded enthusiastically. “At least. I’d belt her myself, if I could.”

  “That’s a capital idea!” I snatched the trousers off the floor, pulling the leather belt free. “You have to be punished. You almost killed me.”

  Isabelle sobered. “You’re right.” She glanced at the belt. “What exactly are you going to do with that?”

  “Bend over the bed.” I snapped the leather strap against my hand, producing a whacking sound. “Ouch!” It stung. I would have to employ a level of control when hitting Isabelle. I didn’t want to injure her. Or did I?

  “Do as she says, girl,” said Millie. “Bend over the bed. Show us that pretty bottom.”

  “Well, this I hadn’t foreseen. But…I suppose I could play along.”

  “You will,” I asserted. “Get over the bed. Now!”

  “I do deserve it, for almost shooting you.”

  “Now!”

  “Fine!” She leaned over the bed, her rounded bottom in the air.

  “How hard should I hit her, Millie?”

  “Start light. Work your way up from there.”

  “Oh,” she breathed. “You two are…naughty.”

  “You’re a careless sister-in-law. You almost killed me. Now prepare to be punished.”

  Millie took her nightgown off, dropping the garment on the floor. She picked up the wide-brim hat and placed it on her head. There was something sexy about a naked woman with only a hat on. “What are you waiting for? That ass is ripe for spanking.”

  “But first,” I pulled Isabelle’s boots off, “I’m wearing these.”

  “You’re both ridiculous,” she laughed.

  “Shush!” I smacked her with the end of the belt, the sound echoing.

  “Oh! Oh, you—”

  “Smack!”

  “Oh! That hurts!”

  “Hit her harder.”

  My grin was saucy, and I knew it. “I should hit her harder, shouldn’t I?”

  “The woman almost killed you. She deserves a beating, if you ask me.”

  “Oh, Millie. What do I do? I’ve never done this before.” I couldn’t get over the hat. It looked bizarre on her, especially with her large breasts jutting.

  “Give me the belt.” She held out her hand. “I’ll show you what to do.”

  “Don’t go too crazy.” There was something in her look that worried me.

  Her smile was enigmatic. “Give me the belt, Sarah.”

  “Oh, all right, but I’m watching you. Don’t take it too far.”

  “Be a good girl, and sit.”

  “I’m waiting,” said Isabelle. “Are you going to punish me or not?”

  “Touch her pussy. Tell me if she’s wet.”

  I slid a hand along the curves of her ass to the back of her thigh. She felt so soft, so supple. Her pussy was hidden behind glossy curls, and, as my fingers sought her opening, wetness appeared on my hand. “She’s plenty wet.”

  “Good. Then we can begin.” She lifted the belt, hitting Isabelle with the leather strip.

  “Ouch!”

  “That’s it.” She struck her again.

  “Oh!”

  If I had been worried that Mil
lie would abuse my soon to be sister-in-law, my concern was for naught. She drew the belt back, letting it snap against her pale skin creating streaks of pink. Soon her bottom was crisscrossed with red. Isabelle gasped with each hit, flinching slightly, but her face betrayed her. It seemed as if the pain morphed almost instantly into pleasure.

  “You should hit her harder, Millie.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” She snapped at her thighs as well, producing several angry red marks.

  “I didn’t know this could be pleasurable.” Isabelle wasn’t the only one aroused. My pussy throbbed distractingly; so much so, I pushed my fingers into the soggy snatch, manipulating it feverishly. “This is…wicked.”

  “Smack!”

  “Ouch! Ooohhh…”

  Millie continued to assault the rounded buttocks, leaving over-lapping lines of redness. The harder she hit her, the louder Isabelle moaned. Her vocal, guttural pleasure was punctuated by loud snapping.

  “How wet is she now?”

  I slid my hand between her legs. “Very wet.”

  “Lick her.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Get between her legs and lick her.”

  I nearly achieved orgasm, right then and there. It took a full minute to compose myself, urging my body to recede from the edge. “Yes, Millie.” I slid from the bed, approaching Isabelle’s sexy bottom. I buried my face between her cheeks, holding her thighs apart, until I had access to her slit. I ran my tongue over the glistening lips of her labia.

  “Oh, my God,” she groaned. “Oh, my…holy…God…”

  She smelled pungently of arousal, the creamy fluid pooling at the edges of her womanhood. “Should I do more?”

  “Lick her while I hit.”

  Alarm raced through me. “You won’t hit me, will you?”

  “Not unless you want me to.”

  “Millie!”

  She grinned. “Suck that pussy, Sarah. Do it.”

  “Yes ma’am.” I applied my tongue, pushing further into her moist opening.

  “Smack!”

  “Ouch!”

  I laved her aggressively, wiping away excessive amounts of honeyed nectar. My face was wet with her juices, and, as Millie continued to hit her, she dripped even more.

  “Oh, dear Lord in heaven!”

  “Smack!”

  “Oh, goodness. I…can’t help it! Oooh…”

  Isabelle shuddered, her pussy gushing; so much so, I worried she had peed herself. A torrent of water poured down her inner thighs. “What on earth!”

  “Oh, God,” she groaned. “Ohhh…you…dirty…women…”

  I glanced at Milly. “What was that?”

  “It happens to some women. It’s not urine, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

  “I see.” This had been an education, the play-acting, the whipping, and now a gushing pussy. “Oh, my.”

  “I can’t believe I did that.” She sounded exhausted. “That was incredible. It was…so good. I’ve never…I’ve never experienced it so good.”

  “We could do it again,” I suggested. My pussy throbbed. An orgasm waited patiently on the horizon.

  Millie glanced at me, smiling slightly. “This could be a long night.”

  Chapter Nine

  We had indulged ourselves for hours, taking a bath afterwards, washing away the evidence of our debauchery. By morning, the three of us were the best of friends, dressing together, laughing, and packing as quickly as we could. The trunks were taken down and transported to the train station.

  Edmund waited at the foot of the stairs, looking fresh and dapper in a knee-length topcoat with a velvet collar. “Ladies, the train won’t wait for us.”

  “I know, brother dear,” trilled Isabelle. “We’re coming!”

  Edmund took my hand, kissing my glove. “You look ravishing, my love. You’ve got color on your cheeks.”

  “Thank you.” And how did you come by that color, Sarah? Well, I spent the night with my face buried between a woman’s thighs, that’s how. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” If only you knew what I had done to your sister…repeatedly.

  “A lovely day to begin a journey.”

  “Look at the time. Haste! Haste!” called Isabelle, heading out the door. “Make haste!”

  We rushed to the station, fighting our way through the traffic. Skyscrapers were all the rage; the building boom was in full swing. Workmen on scaffolding labored over heavy-looking masonry. Chicago was hemmed in by the lake and the rail yards; therefore, the only way to grow was up. The station was awash with businessmen, families with children, and porters. Piercing whistles announced the imminent arrival of another locomotive. Whitish steam from various chimneys filled the air. We settled in a well-appointed parlor car, relaxing in the over-sized seats. Edmund ordered a brandy, and I had lemonade with the ladies. As the train jerked forward, the screech of the wheels was deafening.

  Once we were on our way, Edmund asked, “What did you do last night?” I nearly choked on the lemonade.

  “We had a marvelous time together.” Isabelle winked at me. “Didn’t we, Sarah?”

  “Oh, most certainly.”

  “Doing what exactly?”

  “Listening to the music box.”

  “It’s a miracle it still works. It’s been dropped more times than I can count.”

  “It works just fine. Every note was in tune.”

  As we engaged in small talk, my mind wandered, thinking about Isabelle dressed in men’s clothing and pretending to be a train robber. Then I recalled the actual robbery, and how handsome the bandit had been. I replayed every second of the encounter, my stomach fluttering and trembling with pleasure.

  An hour later, Millie handed me a newspaper. “This might interest you.”

  “Thank you.”

  The headline read: The Corbett Gang Strikes Again! On the morning of July 2, 1880, the gang, consisting of Brack Corbett, Buck Bass, and Jimmy McCarty, set its sights on the B&O Railroad. After boarding the train in Willard, Ohio, the gentlemen robbers were brash and bold, taking more then twelve thousand dollars in cash and jewelry. The only injury reported was the train’s brakeman, Clint Aldridge, who was wounded in the arm by a stray bullet. U.S. Marshall Robert Blain has—”

  “What are you reading, my dear?”

  I glanced at Edmund, seeing a man with a slightly impassive expression. “My train robbery.”

  “Why trouble yourself with bad memories? I’ll buy you another engagement ring. You won’t be without one for long.”

  That had been the last thing on my mind. “Thank you, Edmund. That’s very kind of you.”

  “Think nothing of it, sweetness.” His attention returned to a book he was reading.

  Ever since our engagement, he had become curt and standoffish. It wasn’t that long ago that he had stopped the carriage in the middle of a thoroughfare, dashed into a flower shop, and returned with a bushel of roses. He had been wildly romantic and delightfully impulsive, although he had never kissed me properly. He would hold my hand under the table at dinner and write me love notes. That had all changed the night he had gotten down on one knee and proposed. It was almost as if the effort it took to win me had exhausted him. The quest was over, and now there was nothing to do but wait for the wedding.

  After dinner, Millie, Isabelle, and I changed into our dressing gowns and settled in the sleeping car. Edmund had joined the men for drinks in the dining car. I sat on the bed, with one leg tucked under, braiding my hair.

  “Where do you think you’ll go on your honeymoon?” asked Isabelle.

  “San Francisco.”

  “Oh, marvelous. I’ve been there before. The bay is gorgeous.”

  “Maybe we’ll settle there.”

  “I would. Being near the ocean is wonderful. Please don’t stay in Sacramento.”

  “My parents have a farm with horses. My father breeds them.” It had been oppressively hot today, and the upper portions of the windows were open. Something sudde
nly whizzed over our heads, embedding in the wood paneling on the other side of the wall with a loud thunk. “What was that?” It looked like an arrow with black and white feathers on the end.

  “Oh, my God!” screamed Isabelle. “Indians!”

  “Don’t panic!” said Millie. “Get down. Sit on the floor.”

  “Are we under attack?”

  “They shoot at trains often,” said Isabelle. “They hate us for being here. We’ve taken so much of their land.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  Isabelle touched my shoulder. “It’s a stray arrow. It happens from time to time.”

  The whistle began to sound, blaring over and over, the lights flickering, and then the floor shuddered violently, throwing us to the other side of the car. The sound of steel grating and wood popping roared through my consciousness. I reached for Millie, who had begun screaming.

  “We’re bloody going to die! It’s crashing!”

  I grabbed the steel post of the bed. “Hold on!” The sleeping car began to shift, tilting precariously to the left. The sound of glass shattering forced my head down, and I squeezed my eyes shut to protect them. Something nicked my forehead and wetness trickled down my cheek.

  “Mother of God!” screamed Isabelle. “Grab something!”

  “Millie!”

  “I’m fine! Hold on! Don’t let go!”

  The car was off its track, careening forward and angling to the left. It smelled like a bonfire; wood was burning, but not in our car. An enormous blast shook us, and the remaining windows imploded, shooting out shards of glass. Isabelle screamed, and I joined her, knowing my life was about to end. I gripped the bottom of the bed, the metal shaking precariously. If the pole came loose, I would be tossed around like a sack of potatoes. The feeling of falling suddenly brought a fresh wave of terror. The entire car shifted, keeling, ready to hit the ground.

  “The saints preserve us!” shouted Millie. “Our Lord, our father! Our Lord in heaven! Our Lord—”

  A gigantic boom registered, followed by violent shuddering, as the car hit the ground and continued to move, the force of motion propelling it forward in a straight line. The sounds of screams echoed, as fellow passengers dealt with the disaster. Dirt and grime hit my face, the aroma of grass and weeds filling my lungs. The landing had jarred me, wrenching my arm. Pain throbbed from my elbow to my wrist.