Archive-name: Couples/mslily11.txt

Archive-author: Various - Genie

Archive-title: Adv of Miss Lilly's Tavern...11



 

Slade decided he'd better cool off before he went back to breaking horses,

otherwise, he'd ruin them all.  Maybe he ought to head into town, maybe even

have a whisky at the local saloon.  Sometimes during the day, Irish showed up

with a couple of Miss Lily's girls to play cards, give the guys something to

drool about until Miss Lily's opened for the evening.



He saddled up his own stallion and rode into town.  On the way, he thought

about his reaction to Chet's words about Irish.  Why did he react so violently

in her defense?   Why did it hurt so much to think of Irish with another man?



He shook these feelings off as he dismounted and tied his horse in front of

the Golden Slipper Saloon.  As he climbed the stairs a voice called out to

him.



"Mr. McCall?  Oh, Mr. McCall?"  Bessie, the town mail mistress and wire clerk

was hailing him.



He turned and walked over to her, tipping his hat.  "Morning, Miz Bessie.  How

are you, this morning?"



"Why, good morning, Mr. McCall," she replied.  "Can't complain today.  Now,

I've got a wire for you in my office.  If you'd like to sign for it, I can

turn it over to you now."



Must be from his boss, Lucas Pierpont.  Nobody else would send him a wire

here.  "Thank you, Miz Bessie.  I'd appreciate that."



He followed the old lady back to the small storefront that served as both post

office and wire office.  She rummaged around her desk before finally coming up

with a creased envelope. 



"Here it is," she announced.  "Now sign here."  She pointed to a line in her

log book.  After he scribbled his signature, she handed him the sealed

envelope.



"Thank you again, Miz Bessie," he said, before leaving her store.  Once

outside, he ripped open the envelope and found the simple message scrawled in

Miz Bessie's spidery hand-writing.



'Sister not feeling well.  Stop.  Don't worry.  Stop.  Not serious.  Stop. 

Will let you know.  Stop.  Dad.'



It was such an innocuous looking message, but it had such sinister meanings.

 

Irish groaned and stretched as she woke up, every muscle in her body

protesting.  Suddenly, she sat up, looking around.  How had she gotten back to

her room?  The last thing she remembered was coming over and over again with

Jonah's huge cock stuffed in her pussy and Jeremiah Crane whipping her ass.



She shifted her buttocks slightly and bit her lip again the discomfort she

felt.  Obviously, she remembered that part of the evening correctly.



A hand crept down between her naked thighs, gingerly touching her pussy.  Yes,

she was sore down there, inside and out.  As she stuck the tip of her finger

inside her, a drop of moisture coated it.  She withdrew her finger, looking at

the pearly liquid.  



That wasn't hers.  So it must be Jonah's.  God, he must have shot an

incredible load for some of it to still be there.



A knock on the door startled her.  She quickly stuck her finger in her mouth

and sucked off the juice.  Then she held the linen sheet up against her chest.

"Come in!"



Ginger poked her head in.  "Oh, good, you're awake.  Some of us are going over

to the Golden Slipper to play some cards.  Want to join us?"



"Sure," Irish replied.  "Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed."



Ginger nodded and withdrew.  Irish could hear her calling to the other girls

that they had to wait for her to dress.



Mindful of her sore behind, she scooted off the bed and went to her armoire. 

She chose one of her loose-fitting dresses, knowing she wouldn't have to wear

any underclothes that would rub against the welts on her buttocks.



A steady ache permeated the area between her thighs as she walked across the

room and dressed herself.  Once or twice, she cupped her crotch with her hand,

trying to take away some of the hurt.  All that did was jumpstart her own

juices flowing.



When she was done, she sauntered down the stairs into the parlour.  Ginger,

Wanda, Annie and a couple of the others were lounging around.



"I'm ready," she announced.  "Shall we go?"

 

  Slade heard the feminine laughter as he pushed open the door to the Golden

Slipper Saloon.  He knew it was a group of girls from Miss Lily's and wondered

if Irish was among them.



The wire he'd just received burned a hole in his pocket.  It had abruptly

brought him down to earth, reminding him why he was in Rattlesnake Gorge,

working as a cowboy.  Clem Dawson was on his way to town and Slade had been

tracking Clem for seven years.  Now, he just might bring the outlaw to

justice.  If he remembered why he was here and didn't concern himself with

Irish's other business.



As soon as he stepped inside, he spotted Irish.  She and the other girls were

seated at a table near the far end of the bar.   She had her back to him and

the bar.  



He swaggered up to the bar and ordered a whisky.  It was going to take a

couple of drinks to dull his senses enough so that he wouldn't want Irish

right now with an all consuming hunger.



In rapid succession, he downed three shots of hard whisky as he listened to

the girls' conversation.  As he swallowed his fourth, their talk turned to

men.



"Irish, you must be feelin' awful sore today," one of them commented.



"Why would you say that?"



Another one answered Irish's question.  "Because you entertained Jeremiah

Crane last night.  We all know that he's into spanking his little girls."



"I heard he paid you double," the first couple said.



"You heard right."  Irish's reply was cool and unaffected, but she spoiled the

effect by lowering her voice.  "Want me to tell you about Jeremiah Crane?"



"Ooohhh, yes," the rest of them breathed.



Slade found himself moving down the bar, closer to the table where the girls

were sitting.  A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Irish was seated

with her back to him.  Maybe she didn't even realize that he was standing so

close.



"All Jeremiah usually wants to do is spank you a little, then use the whip a

little and that's it.  Right?"



"Right."



"Well, last night..." Her voice trailed off suggestively.  "Let me ask you. 

Have any of you ever seen Jonah's cock?"



"I have," Ginger whispered.  "It's huge!"



"Exactly."



All the girls started speaking in hushed whispers at the same time, making it

difficult for him to clearly hear what they were saying.  Finally, Ginger's

voice prevailed.



"All right, Irish, tell us everything that happened.  I saw you being carried

up to your room last night."



"Just let me shuffle and deal," Irish said.



Slade listened to the ruffle of the cards, then the soft slap as they were

dealt.  What kind of a story was he going to hear?  What sort of man was

Jeremiah Crane?  And what did it have to do with Jonah, their black bouncer?



"Well," Irish began.  "After Slade left last night, Miss Lily told me that

Jeremiah had asked for me and that he was willing to pay double.  So I said

yes.



"The beginning was the usual.  You know, he scolds you, then spanks you.  Then

he ties you down and whips you with the strap a little.  After that, he

usually will rub aloe into the welts.



"But last night, he didn't.  In fact, he didn't untie me.  He felt me and

noticed I was soaking wet.  So he asked Jonah if he had anything to 'quench my

fire.'



"Boy, did Jonah ever!  When he slid his club into me, I thought I was going to

split in two.  It was even bigger than Slade's and you know he's the best-hung

man I've ever had."



He squirmed at how casually Irish was discussing his attributes.  Especially

in public.  But he didn't leave.  He wanted to hear how this story ended.  It

was making him more than a little hot and hard.



"He had barely begun to fuck me, when Jeremiah began whipping me again.  I

couldn't decide which was worse - Jonah's tool stretching me or the whip

against my sore ass."  Irish paused and Slade found himself almost ready to

turn around and drag her off to satisfy his aching cock.



"But the most Jonah fucked me and the more Jeremiah whipped me, the more I

began to feel pleasure.  You know the kind I mean."



Slade could almost hear the girls nodding in agreement with Irish's matter-of-

fact tone.



"And then it happened.  I came.  But it was unlike anything I'd ever

experienced.  For one thing, it didn't build, it just happened.  And for

another, it didn't stop.  I don't know how long it lasted, but I finally

passed out from all the pleasure."



"So that's why Jonah was carrying you to your room," Ginger said.  "I thought

that was kind of strange, especially when you didn't take any more customers

the rest of the night."



"That's the last thing I remember until I woke up this morning.  But Jonah

must've shot quite a load because some of it's still in me."



That did it.  That shredded the last of Slade's patience.  He whirled around

and grasped Irish by the arm, nearly yanking her from her chair.  All around

the table, the girls went silent and wide-eyed.



"Let's go, Irish," he growled.  "I need to speak with you in the back room. 

Now!"



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