by Bryan Caine
She was ordered to bend and place her hands on the stool. When she was positioned just so, the spiteful couple set about her beautiful bottom with the clothes brushes. The punishment was extremely vigorous, and the dazed girl struggled to maintain her balance. On one occasion she rocked forward and the piano emitted a macabre and haunting chord as the keyboard prevented her from toppling to the floor. The punishment continued until her raised bottom glowed red, and then she was left sniffling in the darkness as the couple doused the few remaining lights and retired, giggling, to their quarters.
Chapter Seven
Belinda worked at the Crazy Horn every night for almost six weeks, and saved over a hundred dollars, enough to buy a horse and provisions to get her all the way to her uncle’s place in a matter of weeks.
She had been able to save every penny she had earned, depositing it in the local bank, because all of her food, lodging and drinks were provided free with her job. However, well paid as the work was, she could not wait to get away from it and be done with that sort of life forever.
She had had a great variety of clients over those few weeks, all of them interested in variations on the same sort of theme, which meant beating Belinda. Only one stood out for his difference. A boy of no more than seventeen. He had undressed to reveal her first ever sight of a pair of long johns. The tight fit meant that his penis, though not erect, was clearly outlined through the cotton.
The boy had shocked Belinda by telling her that he wanted her to cane him. Apparently he had been used to this sort of treatment all his life and found it very sexy when dispensed by a woman. Belinda had tried to comply, but she was not accustomed to it, especially in cold blood, and she could not bring herself to cane him with any force. The boy had complained to Ruth, who had come up to the room, shouted at Belinda, and taken over quite happily. She had undone the back flap so that his bottom was revealed, framed in the square opening, and had then undone his fly buttons and pulled out his cock. Belinda had simply to kneel and suck the boy whilst Ruth threw herself fully into caning his exposed backside. Ruth had been delighted, because as she said, it wasn’t often she had the chance to chastise a man. Belinda had found no trouble in sucking him, not after all her experiences, and she was intrigued at the way his cock kept lurching and hardening in her mouth with each stroke of the cane until he clutched her head tightly and made her swallow his youthful ejaculation.
Belinda also learnt other things during her stay. The town was called Golden Seat and was about fifty miles west of a larger town called Denver. Golden Seat, it transpired, was in fact a private estate owned by three rich and respectable women called the Spinsters Union. They had bought the land in the middle of nowhere and had built the town, equipping it and populating it with trades people. Nobody knew their reasons for doing this, but presumably they made a living from the rents they charged. As it was a private estate, they were also responsible for law and order. They had hired Sheriff Hanglin and left it to him to deal with the male lawbreakers, but they apparently insisted on taking charge of administering various degrees of corporal punishment to any female wrongdoers that he brought before them. Belinda was surprised – in view of her own sad background – to hear that the punishment was perfectly straight and involved no sex. In fact she had felt embarrassed at having expressed such a thought, and was told very sharply that the Spinsters Union could not and would not do any wrong.
The person who corrected her was Jennifer, the only one of the Crazy Horn girls who had been at all friendly to Belinda. Jennifer said that was because the others were jealous and resentful of Belinda’s ability to take so many beatings and earn double the money. Belinda and Jennifer shared the same room, indeed the same bed, at the lodging house, and Belinda was so touched by Jennifer’s kindness – the only kindness she could recall having received in America – that she had not minded when Jennifer touched and stroked her as they chatted in bed. Indeed, she found Jennifer’s fingers bringing her to orgasm somehow wholesome compared with the viciousness to which she was used. She also enjoyed reciprocating, but always at Jennifer’s bidding, and she always tried to forget that she had done such a thing when she awoke the next morning. She had told Jennifer the full tragedy of her landing in Virginia.
Belinda was dismayed to learn one night that her journey so far had been a ‘doddle’ compared to what lay ahead. The Sheriff had taken great delight in advising her of this fact whilst having a drink at the bar.
‘What you’ve done is like a stroll in a country park compared to what lies ahead,’ he said, casually mauling her breasts as he spoke. ‘Those black shadows you see on the horizon, them’s the Rocky Mountains, the wildest most murderous crossing in the world, I reckon. And if you survive them, well you’ve still got Death Valley to get through, so I guess you ain’t got no chance.’
Daunted but still determined, Belinda swore to herself that she would just have to get across somehow. It was either that or stay in Golden Seat, and that was not an option for which she cared.
Belinda also knew where she was heading now. She had come a long way too far north, but the town she wanted was now directly southwest of where she was, and The Angels turned out to be simply called Los Angeles.
Then things went savagely wrong. Belinda had just finished with her last client, not just of the evening, but forever. Sitting on the edge of the bed, eagerly contemplating her departure from Golden Seat, she was still dressed in the outfit her last client had insisted she wear; a short soft leather skirt, a diaphanous white blouse, the tiniest pair of white cotton drawers, and a pair of high-heeled boots. There was a sharp knock at the door. She groaned and called out that she was finished for the night.
‘Open the door. It’s the Sheriff.’
‘I’m sorry, Sheriff,’ she called. ‘I can’t take any more tonight.’ Or ever again, she thought to herself.
There was a splinter and a crunch and the door flew open under the impact of the Sheriff’s boot. He strode into the room with gun in hand as Belinda hastily rose and backed away. She stared at him in terror; something was seriously amiss.
‘Belinda Hopeworth, I do hereby arrest you for the murder and robbery of one William Wandle at Norfolk, Virginia, on a date as yet unspecified. You will come with me.’
Despite her shrieks of innocence he gripped Belinda by the arm and dragged her downstairs, out into the street and down to his office. He threw her into a cell, formed by barring off one end of the office, and told her that news of the warrant for her arrest had just reached Golden Seat.
With heart pounding Belinda asked what was going to happen. He said she would be transported back to Norfolk to stand trial before being hanged. Belinda felt faint and nauseous, and slumped down on the bare bench as he left her in the dark.
A little later he returned and lit the oil lamps.
‘Good news,’ he said with a slimy smile. ‘Spinsters Union says they can’t spare me to take you all the way to Norfolk, and there’s no one else they can trust…’
Belinda relaxed – just a little.
‘They also says that being a lady you ought to be whipped and not hanged. Up to you – yes or no?’
‘But I’ve done nothing wrong!’ she protested.
‘Yes or no?’ he repeated.
Belinda did not hesitate further. ‘Well yes, of course!’ she nodded earnestly. ‘I’ll do anything… just please don’t hang me!’
‘Good. Spinsters Union don’t believe in hanging. You let them deal with you in their own way and you can live.’ He chuckled. ‘Even if you don’t much feel like it afterwards.’
Sheriff Hanglin bundled Belinda through the dark and deserted main street at gunpoint until they reached the smarter part of town where the white villas were. He led her to the large courthouse, opened the door and pushed her inside.
Belinda looked around timidly. At the end of the stark room, on a raised dais, sat three precisely dressed w
omen behind a wide and highly polished desk.
‘Approach the bench,’ the Sheriff instructed tersely and guided her forward and up the steps of the dais.
‘Meet the Spinsters Union,’ he said and introduced each lady in turn. The one in the middle was quite elderly, stout, and had the air of a strict headmistress. She was Miss Rothschild. To her left sat an extremely attractive women. Tall and well built, she fixed a contemptuous stare on Belinda. Her glorious red hair contrasted vividly with her green gown. Her name was Miss Ladyfield. To the right of Miss Rothschild sat a scrawny middle-aged woman with a mad glint in her eyes. ‘Miss Katz,’ the Sheriff concluded the introductions, and then withdrew to leave Belinda to face the formidable tribunal. She noticed his demeanour was much more respectful than usual.
The ladies studied Belinda with little emotion.
‘You have agreed to be dealt with by us?’ Miss Rothschild broke the uneasy silence.
‘I have,’ Belinda nodded, noting that her Scottish accent suitably complemented her stern appearance. ‘But I have to tell you that I am totally innocent of any charges set against me—’
‘Silence!’ snapped Miss Rothschild. ‘You disrespectful delinquent! Is it not enough that we have to convene this session at such an ungodly hour, without having to suffer your impertinence?’
Miss Ladyfield and Miss Katz tutted and shook their heads with disapproval.
‘I feel we should instigate proceedings without further ado,’ said the haughty Miss Ladyfield without interrupting her inspection of Belinda’s lovely form.
‘I have to agree, Elizabeth,’ concurred Miss Katz solemnly. ‘It seems the reprobate is in urgent need of discipline.’
‘Quite,’ nodded Miss Rothschild. ‘Sheriff, would you kindly mind the door for us. We do not wish to be disturbed.’
‘Ma’am,’ he touched the rim of his hat.
‘You may watch,’ she added, ‘but remain alert.’
‘Yes ma’am.’
His humility astonished Belinda, and increased her wariness of the three women. Were they insane?
Miss Katz rose and moved behind Belinda. ‘Look to the front,’ she ordered calmly.
Belinda focused her attention on Miss Rothschild as icy fingers slid up under the leather skirt and stroked her smooth thighs until they found the round contours of her bottom. They prodded and probed between her legs, nudged them slightly wider apart, and then rubbed her sex-lips through the crisp cotton panties. Afraid to move away she wriggled slightly to show her dislike for such attention. But this was misinterpreted.
‘Oh yes, you like it,’ cooed Miss Katz, pressing the cotton against her clitoris.
‘An excellent response,’ adjudged Miss Rothschild.
‘She is a highly sensitive young lady,’ confirmed Miss Katz, her fingers and the undergarment sinking deeper into Belinda’s moist tunnel.
Miss Ladyfield rose and joined her colleague. Just as Belinda felt her traitorous insides beginning to melt the fingers disappeared. She gasped softly. Miss Katz moved to her front, studying her slick fingertips with great interest, and then traced them across Belinda’s lips. When Belinda pulled away the nasty woman forced them roughly into her mouth and held them there. ‘You dirty young lady!’ she hissed. ‘Give her the cane!’
Belinda stiffened, but Miss Ladyfield held her firmly.
‘No Kitty, not the cane,’ answered Miss Rothschild pensively. ‘I think the tawse to begin with,’ she decided with a smile.
‘Oh yes!’ enthused Miss Ladyfield. Without being asked she went to a cupboard and returned with a strap. She held the implement before Belinda. ‘Have you ever seen a tawse before?’ she inquired, her eyes afire.
‘I have,’ muttered Belinda shamefully.
‘This is to our own design,’ said Miss Rothschild proudly.
Miss Ladyfield turned the strap over and showed Belinda that each separate part of the tawse had a small weight sewn onto it. ‘The weights serve to increase the momentum with the minimum of effort,’ she explained, ‘but we have made them unequal, so that each half travels at a different speed and one arrives just after the other, giving a double blow. Clever?’
Belinda nodded instinctively.
‘Let us begin,’ said the stern Miss Rothschild.
Belinda obeyed the instruction to place her hands on her head, and then watched without complaint as Miss Katz knelt, lifted the hem of the leather skirt, and nuzzled her face against her soft mound through the damp white drawers. The elegant Miss Ladyfield, with tawse in hand, cupped Belinda’s vulnerable breasts with delicate fingers and kissed her throat. Miss Rothschild busied herself with a full-length mirror, positioned it in front of the gently panting and squirming threesome, and then resumed her seat. Belinda gazed through misty eyes at the reflected scene; her hands on her head, Miss Ladyfield squeezing her breasts and flicking her erect nipples through the blouse, and the head of Miss Katz undulating gently beneath the skirt.
After a few minutes, and to Belinda’s secret disappointment, Miss Ladyfield moved back a step and lifted the short skirt. Belinda held her breath. Miss Katz slurped quietly. Miss Rothschild nodded, and there was a severe double crack. Belinda jerked and squealed as the two halves of leather bit the backs of her thighs a split second apart.
‘Good shot, Elizabeth,’ encouraged Miss Rothschild. ‘Perhaps a little harder next time?’
Elizabeth Ladyfield, closely studying Belinda’s face in the mirror, flicked her wrist once more. Belinda shrieked as the double sting struck again – and again, and then again. The clever mouth between her thighs worked enthusiastically. Fingers moved the gusset of her drawers aside, and a tongue wormed insistently into her hot tunnel. Belinda jerked forward at each swipe of the leather, and the tongue stabbed deeper each time. She moaned and her legs trembled, and just as she threatened to orgasm over the industrious mouth of Miss Katz the beating ceased. The tawse fell to the floor and Belinda was shocked as Miss Ladyfield crushed her in a powerful embrace and kissed her deeply and passionately. Belinda trembled with mounting excitement, and could not prevent herself from groaning into the attractive lady’s mouth.
‘Elizabeth… Kitty…’ Miss Rothschild’s severe voice interrupted the sweet slurping and panting of the three females. ‘That’s enough of that for now.’
Miss Ladyfield broke away from the kiss while Miss Katz stood, patted her hair into place, and regained her composure. Both ladies were clearly highly aroused. Belinda was in a daze. She remained with her hands on her head and breasts heaving as Miss Rothschild studied her body relentlessly.
‘You really are quite adorable, my dear,’ she said evenly, and then nodded to her two colleagues.
Belinda allowed them to position her over the bench without a sound of protest; she knew it would be useless. Miss Rothschild gripped her wrists and held them firmly so she could not move or protect herself. ‘I think we are ready for the cane,’ she announced.
Belinda watched over her shoulder as Miss Ladyfield went to the same cupboard and returned with two canes. She disappeared from her line of vision, and then she felt cold fingers raise the leather skirt and tug the drawers down to her knees.
‘You will each administer six strokes,’ Miss Rothschild instructed, and then looked at Belinda. ‘And you will take your punishment bravely. Do you understand?’
Belinda nodded, closed her eyes, and waited.
A hand gently smoothed her exposed buttocks… There was a sudden swish and fire licked across Belinda’s bottom. She jerked on the polished bench, but Miss Rothschild held her firm with surprising ease. A second swish quickly followed and Belinda writhed again. Her wrists were clamped in one hand and a second soothed her hair as Miss Rothschild whispered encouragement to her. The punishment continued remorselessly as Belinda bit her lip and sobbed quietly; she was determined not to cry for mercy.
Eventually the unjust beat
ing was over. The two canes were placed carefully on the bench, and then fingers dipped into her soaking vagina. Belinda had not the inclination or ability to resist, and quickly she was brought to a shuddering orgasm on the bench while Miss Rothschild gently soothed and stroked her hair.
Her wrists were released and she stood stiffly, sniffling and wiping her wet eyes on her sleeves. The leather skirt swayed not unpleasantly against her sore bottom.
‘You have done very well, my dear,’ said Miss Rothschild. ‘You have accepted your punishment with admirable dignity.’
It was over. She was free. She would gather her money, buy a horse, and head for the Rockies.
‘However,’ continued Miss Rothschild, the smile leaving her icy eyes, ‘you are clearly guilty of murder.’
‘No!’
‘We don’t believe in hanging,’ the brutal woman ignored the interruption. ‘You will therefore spend twenty years in the special dungeon below the Sheriff’s office, with only him – and sometimes us – as visitors… Sheriff!’
Chapter Eight
Hanglin pushed Belinda through the dark and empty streets in a state of acute excitement. He walked close behind the stunned girl, prodding his erection against her at every step. Familiar as she was with his ‘riding equipment’, she had never known it in such a state of arousal. As he rushed her towards the cell he was panting in a way that would have worried the town doctor.
‘Belinda,’ he rasped in her ear, ‘you should have seen it all from where I was watching. You were terrific. Let’s get back to the cell!’
All Belinda could think about was spending her whole life over again locked up for a crime she did not commit. This could not be happening to her. She tried to think constructively but her mind was in a spin, and having the Sheriff jabbing and pinching her like an annoying schoolboy did not help.