The Brothel {Sarah'N Dipity}

The Brothel {Sarah'N Dipity} OPEN

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OOC:

A thread based in the old west of Tucson, Arizona, circa 1880. The stories of the journeys, events and adventures of a Madame, her girls, and their customers. Room for everyone who wants to participate, nearly any role you can possibly dream up, just pm me with your character and entrance into the scene. Fun for all!

https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=258436

Sarah {Bel}

Known as Bel to the girls of her house, Sarah glances around with a quiet air of satisfaction and serenity. At 32 years old she’s lived through a lifetime of experiences, both good and bad. From growing up in the Five Points neighborhood in New York City to working in one of the most opulent houses in San Francisco and now, here she was with "Bel’s on", in Tucson, Arizona.

This is her town…and her moment, she can feel it, sense it, and taste it in the air around her. From the new Southern Pacific railroad running southeast to northwest through the heart of town, to the silver found in Tombstone and the copper boom in Bisbee, this is where it’s happening.

Striding out the front door and onto the dusty wooden boardwalk of Main Street, she lifts her skirts high, showing off trim ankles and lacy pantalets as she spins to face the building that is hers and hers alone. The large artistically painted letters above the screened in front porch proclaim with panache, “Sarah ‘N Dipity”.

She had smirked to herself at the description in the Tucson Citizen three weeks ago, welcoming her to town.

‘Sarah Cavanaugh, well known to the social register in San Francisco, “dips” to an indiscreet low in the streets of Tucson’.

Well, there was some truth to the article, put out by the catty wife of the local publishing mogul. Sarah was very very well known to at least half of the SF social register – the male half – and not a few of the female elite either... and she intended to be just as popular here.

It was true that when she’d first read the article she’d set her sights at retribution. Now, after less than a month they were making a breathtaking amount of money, with the mogul among her top clients. With a satisfied sigh she bustles back into the three-story building, thrilling once again at its magnificence.

The main entrance opens onto a large stately foyer graced with thick carpets, deep glowing wood and brilliantly lit with large chandeliers and even larger mirrors. A majestic marble archway to the left leads to the immense main salon, its far wall graced with four doors leading to smaller, private salons. To the right an enormous carved wooden door leads to the busy tavern next door, also owned by Sarah and a silent partner.

To the rear of the foyer a pair of doors, small and hidden in the shadows, lead to the kitchen area that services both house and tavern. The foyer ceiling, open through two levels gives way to the vast rise of a fumed oak staircase which draws the eye upward along it’s luxuriant sheen to the second floor. The second floor, nearly as extravagant as the main, houses nine young women at any given time in six luxuriant rooms and three smaller bed sitters. The open hallway lining the perimeter, bordered by an intricately carved oak railing recedes in the shadows at this time of the morning, the houses quiet moment between sunrise and mid afternoon. Come nightfall it will sparkle with the abundant gas lighting that graces the walls, bouncing off the rich satins and silks of the young women who parade down the grand staircase.

The final level of the house has a private set of stairs behind a beautifully carved door at the far end of the second floor and leads to Sarah’s own quarters and the ones reserved for her silent partner. The third floor also boasts it’s own private outside entrance, at the back of the structure that ensures the anonymity and privacy of the few intimate callers to grace her quarters.

Sarah finds her eyes glancing up in pride, mentally reviewing the young women that grace her house. She is proud of her girls, handpicked for their looks, their grace and their polish, each as individual as she herself and proud of it. Then a wry grin wreathes her face at one of the newer arrivals, a buxom, spirited lass with the fighting instincts of an alley cat and a mouth right off the docks, gracefully serene when sitting quietly, bursting with energy, wit and willfulness when in motion…an unlikely acquisition, she was proving to be one of the best assets of the new house.

Sarah's eyes catch the empty chair to the right of the main door behind her and light up with expectation. Another old friend from old times, Jebdiah Hedges is traveling south to fulfill the role of bouncer, caretaker and inevitably, if his reputation still held true, complimentary bed warmer for any and all in the house. She laughs out loud, her fond memories of the arrogant scoundrel getting the better of her.

She’d run across Jeb at a saloon in Ohio, on her way to San Francisco. She’d recognized him for the well-known gambler he was and after a subtle glimpse of the cash in her handbag and several less subtle hints directly to him, he’d invited her to play in a local big stakes poker game. She’d accepted, just barely in time, as a brawl had engulfed him and led to an impressive display of masculine muscle and a fine display of marksmanship on the street outside.

She’d thrown all of her savings into the game the next evening on a hunch. Her intuition had always been keen and she’d walked away with more money than anyone could safely carry. Jeb had offered to accompany her to across the country for an astronomical sum – only half of what he’d lost to her – and after the impressive display of skill the evening before she’d agreed.

Over the next several months she’d been dazzled by his quick wit, amused by his sense of humor, amazed by his strength and dismayed by his lack of common sense. His good looks and silver tongue had gotten him into more beds - and more trouble - on their way west than she herself had found. They’d enjoyed the camaraderie that grew between them. When the time came and Jeb had gotten restless with the inevitable routine in a city the size of San Francisco, she’d kissed him goodbye, wished him well and told him not to be a stranger.

She would not have believed the news that he’d settled down to raise a family if it hadn’t been written in his own nearly illegible scrawl and had ached for his loss when the Comanche’s had torn apart his world. She’d begged him then to come back to San Fran but he’d refused and she’d heard tales of his exploits and wild temper over the last seven years, read his nickname, Edge, and countless details of wild schemes and crazy adventures in many different papers. She’d written to him out of habit, when she’d opened the house in Tucson, and was amazed to find out her letter had found him, much less that he meant to take her up on her offer of a job. He’d be here in a couple of weeks and she couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d changed in the interim.

With another slow, satisfied smile Sarah grabs her hat and heads out to the market, filled with the vigor of the day, looking forward to the events and rewards of the evening in front of her and the future before her...

Denver is a nineteen year old orphan who moved to Tuscon with Sarah to work in the brothel's stables. His mother had been one of the house girls in San Francisco before running off with a client, leaving her small child in the care of girls until she could get settled. The last anyone had heard of her was a brief telegram telling Sarah that she wouldn't be coming back for her son. The telegram had been from Denver so all the girls had taken to calling him that until finally no one but Sarah even remembered his rightful name. When she had decided to start up her own house here in Arizona, Denver begged to be taken along.

He is a short stocky young man, his pale skin almost always slightly sunburned from working in the stable yard behind the brothel. His pale hair has been bleached almost white from constant exposure to the sun. His years of lifting grain sacks have developed his muscles and he is nearly the strongest boy in town. He spends most of his time in the stables, feeling more at home with the horses that he cares for then the loud and lively customers that frequent his home.


Denver had just finished cleaning out the stalls and was strewing a few handfuls of straw on the floor for the three horses that were in his care today when he glanced up just in time to see Sarah or Bel as the girl's called her walk across the small alleyway that led into the private stable yard. He called out to Sarah and waved to her when she glanced his way before she moved on down the street. "Probably off to market," Denver said softly to the large chestnut mare whose stall he was standing beside, idly petting the horse's soft mane. "Or a business appointment." The young man said with a slight smile as he turned back to work, his thoughts dwelling on his attractive employer's destination for a few minutes more before he became engrossed in his work again.

After feeding and watering each horse, Denver quickly washed his hands before heading towards the back of the kitchen. It was early yet but he hoped to be able to snag a quick bite to eat before returning to repair the harness for the wagon. Suddenly he remembered he had had a message for Sarah that he forgot about this morning. He was torn between his desire for breakfast and his feelings of duty towards Sarah, she had brought him along with her from 'Frisco. Sighing at the thought of missing a meal, Denver turned and hurried down the street trying to find Sarah on the now bustling streets.

Sarah {Bel}

Striding down the street with an easy grace, her mind wandering over the list of provisions she needs to order for the kitchen, she catches Denver’s wave from the corner of her eye. Her eyes grow soft and warm for the young man who’s been a part of her life for so long and she waves back to him.

Short and stocky, full of energy and enthusiasm he’s been a blessing from the beginning. Briefly, her mind wanders to his mother, wondering where she is today.

‘Speaking of enthusiasm, you really do need to have a talk with him about the kitchen girls, Sarah,’ she muses to herself, a wry smile painting her lips.

She’d walked into the kitchen last week to find one of the girls bent over the long wooden trestle table, her skirts lifted high over her young hips. Behind her Denver’s large hand had been wrapped around the handle of one of the large flat utensils used to remove loaves of bread from the brick ovens. The crack of the wood against the full rounded curves of Tamara’s bottom and the soft tearful whimper had brought her eyes, widened, quickly to both of them, studying the scene.

The young woman had apparently been stealing from the kitchen to feed her family, something that Sarah, to her own shame, had been unaware of. By all rights Denver had only been protecting her interests and for that reason alone she’d let him finish. But she’d been unable to miss the hard swell of arousal beneath the soft buckskin of the leggings he insisted on wearing, pressed against the young woman’s hip, or the quickened pace of his breathing or the husky tone in his voice as he’d explained the situation to her.

Her young adopted son is growing up. She shivers lightly remembering her own shaky breath as his masculinity had registered in her mind. She banishes the thoughts and feelings it provokes to the farthest recesses of her mind.

Making arrangements to supply the girl with a portion of the surplus leftovers, always abundant in her kitchen, had been the easy part. Talking to her young charge about his awakening interests, some of which she suspected he’d picked up in her own parlors, was proving to be a bit more challenging. She’d been unable, to date, to find the right words, or any words at all. ‘Tonight,’ she promises herself, ‘we will talk.’

Sheriff Hornsby

Out in the desert, gunfire can be heard. It was the same steady report that echoed across the blasted distance. A series of cans fall, one right after the other. The last one flips high in the air and is shot a second time. A short blast of a laugh from the man terminating these once useful containers echoes a bit, signifying that he is just as shocked as the can must have been.

Sheriff Hornsby smiles, pleased that he hasn't lost his aim or his quickness on the draw. He knew that his town was going to be safe so long as he and his sidearm were in the sheriff's office. There was a time when he'd have to explain to the tin-stars why he had to kill a man, but that very skill had put the star on his chest. He smiled down at it for a second, watching it catch the Arizona sun. He turned a slow circle, just taking in the beauty of the desert that surrounded his hometown. He drew in a long breath of hot desert air. He couldn't imagine living anywhere else. After reloading his piece, he walked back to his trusty horse. Sancho stood there, munching on a sprig of sagebrush. What the sheriff had in quickness and wits, his horse had in toughness. It didn't bat an eye as it chewed the prickly plant. The sheriff patted his trusty "sidekick" on the nose and untied it from the cactus he lashed it to and slid up into the saddle. He took one last look at the sun-drenched rocks and wheeled his horse back toward town.

He walked through the door to his office, nodding to his men as they welcomed him back. He continued out back to the pump, cranking it to life. Eventually, the water poured forth, filling a bucket they kept back there. He carried it back inside and opened the door to the holding cells. A drunk brought in last night lay in his cell. He had to be locked up because he was threatening everyone and himself as he flailed around with a knife in his hand. The sheriff shouted "RISE AND SHINE!!!!" and dumped the cold water over the man. He sputtered and flailed and shot up in the bed. He should have been more careful so that he wouldn't have hit the bottom of the bunk over his head. The man cursed and stood up. The sheriff smiled and opened his cell. "Now, Jim, you go home and don't let have to bring you in here again. If you do, Judge Stone may have to see ya. You know what he thinks about drunks." The man grumbled and slunk out the door. He looked around his office. The deputies were still filing in in the morning hours. He knew that he could be missed for a few hours. He thought that he should go over and have a chat with the new business owner in town. He managed to introduce himself once, but he was sure that Bel would only remember his name. He hoped to get a long talk with her. If nothing else, he could grab breakfast at that saloon next door.

Sarah {Bel}

‘It’s going to be a scorcher today, no doubt about it. But,’ Bel smiles to herself, ‘at least it’s a dry heat.’ A soft chuckle spills from her lips as she acknowledges to herself that at 105+ it no longer matters…hot is hot.

Turning right down Congress Boulevard Bel’s sharp eyes pick out the tall, lanky figure of the Sheriff at the pump behind the Sheriff’s office. She smiles, liking what she sees. He’s a good man, tough when he needs to be, but fair. He is a gentleman, her girls tell her, always taking his boots off before getting into bed. He had been a proponent of hers when she’d first arrived, voicing his opinion that she and her house wouldn’t hurt a thing, here in town, to the city fathers and she was grateful for his regard.

Her quick steps bring her quickly to the front of the jail and she hesitates in her stride as the door opens abruptly. One slim hand brushes provocatively over the curve of a satin clad hip, a gesture that is as familiar to her as breathing. She stops, startled, a slow radiant smile lighting up her face.

“Good morning, Sheriff.”

Caroline Moody - "Sugar"

Caroline Moody is a 24 year redhead with a fine figure below her flashing green eyes and vivid red hair. She is street smart and determined to get as far away from her roots in the slums of Chicago as it is possible for her to do.

She’d come to Tucson three years earlier putting herself to work in one of the sleazy brothels down by the railroad. When Sarah’N Dipity had been built and the whirlwind that was Sarah herself hit the prosperous frontier town, Caroline had watched with rapt fascination. Not for the first time in her life she found herself wanting something that appeared unobtainable.

Two weeks after Sarah’N Dipity’s grand opening Caroline gathered her courage and approached Sarah with her plea for work, her coarse manner and dress a stark contrast to Sarah herself. She’d listened to Sarah’s quiet attempts to make her feel comfortable, the Madame rambling on about the house and it’s occupants even as her bright eyes had sized Caroline up like something at the butcher block.

Caroline’s heart had thudded to the ground with the acknowledgement in Sarah’s eyes, she wouldn’t hire her. In a last ditch attempt she’d mimicked Sarah’s east coast accent and mannerisms to perfection, expressing her desire to learn and work with the best, and watched Sarah’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow and travel over her form one more time. To Caroline’s utter surprise she was offered a small room on the second level with an initial trip to the dressmaker for 65% of her earnings and her promise to work a six night week – her tips were her own, of course. Caroline’s own eyes had widened at the generosity and she’d nodded mutely, accepting the offer.

Caroline - "Sugar"

Caroline, known as “Sugar” to the male clients of the house, because she tasted just as sweet, flew down the opulent staircase and out onto the screened in porch of her new home. She’d awakened early this morning, full of the joy of her new position and circumstances, eager not to miss a single moment.

She acknowledges the leer on a passing cowboy’s face with one small slim hand caressing the sheer silk of her morning dress hugging her full bosom like a second skin, tossing a flirtatious little smile in his direction as she sprawls gracefully on the velvet covered settee. In the last two weeks she’d mimicked the mannerisms of nearly every girl in the house, borrowing gestures and phrases at will bringing playful smiles from those that recognized them. She was in her glory here, the beautiful clothing, the fine linens, a whole new attitude.

And friends! She had friends here! Even the clients weren’t so bad…some of them downright fun. She hugs herself trying to contain the glee inside before giving up and throwing her arms up in abandon, a deep husky chuckle ringing through the air around her.

Sheriff Hornsby

The sheriff stops short, shocked pleasantly by the lovely voice of Bel. He looks up into her lovely face, smiling back at her look. She stood there, leaning slightly on the posts that held up the awning in front of his office; her arm bent slightly so that her slim hand could rest on her hip. As the sheriff looked at her, everything about her was feminine: her dress, her shape, her posture, everything. He was beginning to wonder if he was on her side because he thought she wasn't wrong, or because she was the most captivating creature he'd ever seen. He had no idea how long he was staring at her; he didn't care. He just wanted to admire this deret rose a bit longer. The dress she wore was enough to make him want to dunk his head in the horse trough out front. It had to be designed with the desert in mind. Such a perfect wardrobe choice for Bel.

He finally shook himself out of his daydream and answered her. "Well, good morning to you, ma'am. You must be a mind reader." He chuckles slightly as he has a seat on a tired wooden chair in front of his office. "I was on my way to your house so I could have a nice little sit down chat with you. Perhaps we could have it here, unless you'd like to head over there and share a breakfast at that fine saloon you have next door?"

Denver

Denver hurried through the now bustling streets of Tucson, his eyes searching the faces of the crowds for his employer. He had forgotten earlier to let her know that the man from the general store had stopped by this morning to say that the delivery of food for the kitchen was going to be late due to some trouble with the train. Ralph, the grocer, had said that if they wanted their delivery in the next couple of days, they'd have to take a wagon out to Flagstaff and pick up their supplies at the station there. The train wouldn't get to Tucson until sometime next week.

Denver was more then willing to take the trip out there if Sarah decided that she couldn't wait for the train but if he was going to go he wanted to get an early start. It'd take at least two days to get there in the old wagon but it would be nice to have some time to himself to think over his reaction to last nights incident. When he had caught Tamara stealing that food he had only intended to punish her as he had been punished when he was younger. It wasn't until she had bent over, her skirts hiked up to reveal her rounded bottom that Denver began to think of the situation as something more then a routine punishment. He had always thought that Tamara was an attractive young woman but seeing her bent over in front of him had awakened something new in him.

Hearing Tamara's soft gasps turn into whimpers as he continued to spank her with the large wooden utensil had caused him to become very aroused. He probably would have continued to punish the unfortunate girl if Sarah hadn't entered the kitchen just then, her eyes going wide at the sight of him paddling the kitchen girl. Denver had quickly explained the situation to his shocked employer and was mildly surprised when she had agreed with his punishing of the young woman. As he finished spanking the now repentant Tamara, he had been painfully aware of Sarah's eyes on his very apparent erection. His surrogate mother had seemed to be on the edge of saying something to him several times but finally just dismissed him back to the stables. As he had walked out of the kitchen he had heard Sarah's soft voice consoling Tamara.

He had spent a very long night laying in the loft of the stables where he made his home, reliving the incident with Tamara over and over again occasionally imagining that it had been Sarah bent over the table in her place. He finally had drifted off into a troubled sleep, feeling immensely guilty over his desire for the woman who had become his surrogate mother.

Pushing those troubling thoughts aside, Denver continued down the street until he saw his employer standing out front of the sheriff's office, talking to a man who stood within the door. As he neared he could see that it was Sheriff Hornsby that was talking to Sarah. Denver slowed his approach, reluctant to interrupt the conversation but still feeling the need to get Sarah's attention. He stood there for a few seconds trying to decide what to do.

Sarah {Bel}

The Sheriff’s quizzical glance behind her shoulder has her turning her head to view Denver standing hesitantly on the other side of the street. The warm maternal smile that wreaths her lips had little in common with the other warmth that floods her senses, quickly hidden away.

Gesturing him over she listens to the news from the grocer and watches with amusement as both men watch intently as one hand delicately slips beneath the décolletage of her gown and removes the current list of items needed in the kitchen.

For a moment she wonders about Denver’s hasty acceptance of the task at hand, recognizing her own brief relief at putting off their discussion. It would give her time to make arrangements with one of the girls, if nothing else.

“Harness up Indigo and Sienna, Denver, take the wagon. Make sure Tamara packs enough food for the trip,” she smiles inside at the brief blush that stains his face at the young girl’s name, brushing one hand over his fine blonde hair with affection. “And be careful, you hear?”

“I understand, Sheriff, that they serve a great breakfast at that saloon,” she flashes him a coquettish smile, placing one hand through his arm as they watch Denver trot down the street, impatient to be off.

Denver

Denver took the list of supplies from Sarah, glancing over it briefly before he felt his cheeks redden at the mention of Tamara. He hadn't seen her arrive this morning and had been actually trying to avoid seeing the young woman but no he didn't see any way to get food from the kitchen without dealing with her. As Sarah reached out to tussle his hair, Denver felt an uncharacteristic flash of anger towards her. 'Doesn't she realize I'm not a child anymore,' He thought to himself as she told him to be careful. He turned and trotted back towards the brothel, fighting his sudden jealousy towards the sheriff as Sarah linked her arm in his.

Denver read over the list of supplies as he walked across the empty stable yard and into the kitchen only to come face to face with Tamara as she carried a platter of food towards the stove. They both came to a stop staring at each other in silence before Denver blushed and stepped aside. "Excuse me," He muttered as she walked by him, his eyes going to the way her slender hips moved under her dress as she passed him.

"Well, are you going to stand there all day staring at me or do you need something?" Tamara snapped at him after a few minutes of silence had passed. "Or maybe you're watching me to see if I steal anything so you can 'punish' me some more," The girl accused him as she turned to face him. "Since you seemed to enjoy it so much last night." She sneered at him.

Denver was confused and embarassed, not sure what to say or do for a few minutes before he finally managed to stammer out, "I'm taking the wagon to Flagstaff for supplies, and I need food for the trip."

"Fine," Tamara said as she turned her back on him, going back to her cooking. "I'll bring it out to you when it's done." She told him without turning to face him.

"Thank you," Denver said softly as he stepped out into the stable yard. He wanted to apologize to Tamara but he wasn't sure how to. He had never been really good with people which was one of the main reasons that he spent so much time with the horses. He moved over to the stalls and started getting the wagon ready. He had just finished hitching the chestnut colored mare that everyone called Sienna to the wagon when he heard someone enter the stables. Looking up he saw Tamara standing there a large wicker basket in her hands which she passed to him wordlessly before turning to walk back to the kitchen.

"Be careful, Denver," Tamara said softly just as she entered the kitchen, leaving him standing there very confused. Finally he just shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure what to think, and tossing the basket of food up onto the seat he climbed into the buckboard. With a small snap of the reigns the horses started pulling the wagon and Denver sat back to enjoy the trip to Flagstaff.

Sheriff Roger Hornsby

The sheriff smiled and drew his arm closer to his body, making sure that he and Bell were walking hip to hip. He chatted about the town, pointing out landmarks to the lady on his arm. He knew that she had just arrived and she may not know where everything is yet. There are some places that Roger loved that were a bit out of the way. He pointed out the stairway entrance to the barber above the "legitimate" hotel in town. He loved stopping by there for a hot soap shave every now and then.

He walked a little slower than Bel, enjoying his time with the lovely newcomer to his time. Eventually, he saw the building that marked the end of their journey. He sighed a bit, wishing he could still walk and chat with Bel. The whole way there he hadn't noticed the condemning glances of the townsfolk that had already made their mind up about Bel and her "business". He stepped up onto the porch of the building and guided her to the front door of the saloon. He pulled it open and ushered her inside. He lingered in the door, watching her walk into the place. He watched as the sunlight filtered through the windows and lit her up just so. He knew why she had been so successful in her line of work; she was captivating.

He walked in and slid her seat out and helped her sit. "So, what's good here?"

Delilah

Delilah was an 18 year old cutie that looked 14 or 15 years old. The men who like them young liked coming toher because she looked so young. She heightened this perception even more byt he way she wore her hair in pig-tails, spoke soft like a child, acted shy and licked on lolly pops. Delilah did not even dress sexy like the other women of the house. She pushed the child like appearance even further by trying to look innocent in overalls. She looked like a farmers daughter who should be out working in the fields. But, under her over alls she wore no bra, shirt or panties. The overalls just barely covered her nipples which in turn showed a lof of cleavage from her average sized yet perfectly shaped breasts. When she turned to the side you could see her waist and the sides of her breasts.

The clothing she wore also gave easy access. A man could stand against her and slip his hands in to fondle her. Which many perverts liked to do. And they liked it even more when she played innocent like she didn't know what they were doing. When she woke up on this morning she knew her day would be no different.

She washed up, dressed herself and made her way down stairs to the kitchen. After eating breakfast she made her way to the "greeting" room. During the day it was very quiet. Not many men were around then. But, in the night she usually had plenty of "work" to do.

Delilah smiled as the Sheriff walked in with her "boss". She knew the Sheriff would not be able to resist her. With the Sheriff in the pocket of her boss, she knew their brothel would survive a long time. But, it was apparent that the two of them had some sort of "interest" in each other. Delilah wondered how it would be to fuck such a strong man in power. She had never been bedded him but would have loved to have done so. She just looks on as she twirls one pig tail with one hand and licks on her lolly pop with the other hand. She knew to not interrupt the boss when she was talking with the men. If her services were desired, she would be called over. If not, she would just wait for her first pervert of the night.

Delilah had been doing this sort of "work" since she was 16. Now being 18, she was very experienced. Most of the men who fucked her just crawled on top of her and made her call them "Daddy". But, there were a few who wanted to act out the fantasy of raping her. She had been tied down a few times and she yelled and fought like she was really being raped. But, of course such fantasies had to be told to the "boss" first. Otherwise, she would have thugs rush in and beat the "customer" up. Or, she would burst through the door herself with a shotgun. But, there was a code word that alerted the people of the house when one of the girls was in real danger. All a girl had to do was shout out, "Bastard".

Delilah never had to do this. She enjoyed everythign the men had to dish out. She had been sodomized, gagged on cock, swallowed cum, been tied down, had her pussy worn out and even slapped around a bit. But, the slaps merely stung a little. No one had ever really hit her hard. She hoped that would continue. She enjoyed what she did, though. Delilah was quite the nymphomaniac....

Sarah {Bel}

Freed from her chores this morning, Sarah enjoyed the walk down Main Street on the Sheriff’s arm, listening to his comfortable chatter. She’d been amused to realize that he didn’t notice the looks sent their way. She had and acknowledged each of them with a tilt of her head and a slight, promising smile. She’d been surprised and delighted to realize that among the scorn, outrage and dismay there was an equal amount of interest, curiosity and avid lechery…her house would do well here, of that she had no doubt.

As they passed the small courtyard Sarah saw Denver saddling up. A few more steps and they passed Sugar, the Sheriff tipping his hat to her on the porch as they slipped inside the saloon. She’d restrained a soft chuckle of amusement as she felt the Sheriff stiffen beneath her hand. Before them, snugged into the shadows of a corner of the saloon they often used for greeting customers, stood Delilah.

Sarah slipped her arm out of the Sheriff’s with a reassuring pat, glancing at Delilah with a smile of welcome and striding to the bar. Delilah was undoubtedly one of her most controversial girls, the sweet innocence of her face, actions and clothing belying the soul of a tramp…and exquisitely capable tramp. Even in a city the size of Tucson, Delilah’s choice of clothing was shocking…and extraordinarily effective. She was one of the best producing young women in the house. The fact that she drew the more hard core of her customers had worried Sarah in the beginning, but not only was Del capable, she seemed to enjoy her work.

Turning away from Delilah, Sarah smiled warmly over the sheen of the polished oak bar at Kelly O’Shea, her new bartender and keeper of the peace in the saloon section of the establishment. At 6’4” he was nothing short of imposing, the strength and character in his face tended to balance out his 26 years, giving him an “old soul” look…and giving many pause before pushing him to far. He was a treasure and she trusted him implicitly.

“Sheriff, have you met Kelly O’Shea, our new bartender? He’s second in command around here until Jeb shows up in a couple of weeks,” she smiled warmly at first Kelly and then the Sheriff, one hand beckoning him closer. “I need to go check on Denver. Kelly could you take care of the Sheriff for me a moment?” she rests her hand lightly on the Sheriff’s arm as he approached, the soft light of mischief in her eyes.

“He wanted to know what was good here, Kelly,” her tone turns suggestive and husky with an impish glee; she turned her body against the Sheriff and brushed against him lightly. “And my answer, Sir, is “everything”. Perhaps Kelly, you could introduce him to Delilah…if you’ll excuse me, Sheriff?”

She left the three of them behind, hustling out the Saloon door and striding around the back to the stable. As she rounded the rear of the saloon she saw Tamara leaving the barn and stepped hastily backward, listening for the slam of the rear screen door. Instead, she heard the girl’s soft words to Denver, “please be careful.” Sarah smiled to herself, hearing the hinges of the screen door and turned around, heading to the porch and Sugar to await Denver’s departure.

Rounding the front of the saloon, pausing before the door to the porch, Sarah’s eyes took in the shining splendor of her newest acquisition, a warm tongue of flame lapping gently in her belly as it had from the first day Sugar walked through her door. The brilliant luster of the thick red tresses curling around the girl’s classic features. The green eyes that lightened when flashing with anger, darkened with arousal, and burned continuously with curiosity. A body any man…and many woman…would kill to stroke, possess.

It was amazing what just a couple of weeks had done to the young imp in front of her. Even though Sarah’s seen the diamond in the rough, she despaired that the polishing process would take most of her good years, but Caroline had surprised her. In two weeks she’d remade herself…at least in the public eye…into a young woman of grace and breathtaking sensuality.

To the men who weren’t aware of her origins, Sarah always got a kick out of Sugar’s methods with a new client. She’d approach, her sleek, graceful façade leaving the customer ill prepared for the tumble of soft, whispered obscenity that spilled from Sugars lips like honey, leaving the client almost to hard to move.

Sarah sat down on the settee next to Sugar, aware that her own fiercely intent gaze was reciprocated, adoration and contentment shining in the young woman’s eyes.

Sugar

Dozing languorously on the settee the two familiar voices bring her eyes open slowly and a warm thrill floods her body. The Sheriff was one of her favorite clients, a gentleman in the parlor, a beast in the bedroom. She loved the fact that he loved her ability to change from lady to whore in the blink of an eye and in the four or five times that he’d called for her, she never been able to resist dropping her eyes to the impressive swell of his manhood as naughty words spill quietly into his ears. For a man, he was more than all right.

The woman beside him does to her what she does to him. Just looking at Bel, the proud display of her femininity within beautifully tailored, lushly revealing clothes, the confidence and humor she exudes…it makes Caroline ache. She winks cheekily to the Sheriff’s tipped hat and soaks in the smile Bel tosses her way.

Leaning back again with their passing she closes her eyes, daydreaming about the feel of Sarah’s firm body against her own. The soft shuffle of fabric opens her eyes and it’s almost as if her fantasy has come alive, Bel’s warm smile and intent gaze pinning her to her chair. As Bel sits next to her she feels her eyes melt in adoration, the soft tremble of a smile on her lips, the hardening of her nipples apparent beneath the delicate silk of the clothing Bel provides. Reaching up with one hand, her fingers stroke the blonde curl of hair at Bel’s temple and without thinking, her lips press lightly against the full red curves of Bel’s mouth, reveling in their soft warmth.

She isn’t surprised at Bel’s reaction – there’d been heat between them from the first day – but she’s amazed by her own, the fast, hot swell of desire between her legs and radiating from her nipples, the pressure of Bel’s tongue against her own, hard and rhythmic, that leaves her panting. The kiss becomes fierce and explosive, their bodies pressed against one another, Bel’s strong fingers pinching one of Sugar’s nipples before, with dismay in her beautiful eyes, Bel pushes her away.

‘No,” her own soft gasp, thick with hunger, leaves her shaken.

“I have things to attend to, Sugar, and I need to talk to Denver. Later, perhaps, we can explore this further,” Bel’s eyes drift to the street in front of them.

Sugar’s eyes follow, a blush highlighting her cheeks as she realizes she’s been so overwhelmed by the kiss she didn't hear the wagon pull up. Denver’s stare is fascinated and intent on her own as she rises with her boss, her fingers brushing lightly through Bel’s as she walks out. Later….

Ringo comes into town

It was just after daybreak when Ringo, riding easy now that he was sure he was far enough away from Flagstaff so as not to be bothered by that pesky Posse that had ben following him for the last three days. He had circled and backtracked so dang many times he imagined himself meeting himself in the moonlight on a few occasions. He chuckled knowing of course that wern't possible but just the thought tickled him. He'd layed in the bushes seeing the posse just yards away frantically examining hoofprints, scratchin' their heads unable to descern which direction he had gone. Finally tired of playing games he headed for a dry creek bed where his horses hoofprints wouldnt show and headed straight for Tucson.

From time to time he urged his horse up the bank to create the impression he had left the stony riverbed in case his persuers had made a lucky guess and were still on his trail. A small stream joined the dry run and he headed up it, his trail immediatly wiped out by the rushing water. A half mile up he came to the main road and a sign that said Tucson 1 mile. Resisting the temptation to turn the sign around and confuse the next traveler he noticed a copse of woods not much further upstream and urged his horse in that direction. He grinned when he saw a small pond simmering in the morning sun. "Good place for a bath." he said to himself, " if he had some soap." He knew the miles layers of grit and grime woud not come off with just plain warm water. Getting off his horse he cuppped his hands and scooped up a generous amount in his large hands. "Tolerable he said. a mite warm but tolerable."

He watched his horse drink it's fill and leaned against a tree. Noticing a rotted out hole at its base he smiled "Perfect." he said leaning down to examine it further. About the size of his hat it was deep enough and inconspicuous from the road or anyone stopping her e for a drink. he cleaned out the accumulation of debris and dirt. Looking around to make sure no one had happened by and was watching him, he pulled two pouches attached to his saddle and emptied the contents of both of them into the hole. Shinny twenty dollar gold pieces and glittering silver dollars clinked their way downward almost filling the hole. From this pile he picked out a fistfull of dollars and a gold piece. He stuffed these into his pocket and covered the remainder with leaves and dirt. Taking a dead branch he found nearby he scrathed out every sign that he had been there as he backed towards his horse. He mounted and headed toward the road making it look like he was just another traveler who had stopped to water his horse and get a drink.

The trail was dusty but no more dusty than Ringo was already, so he didn't mind, in fact he was a mite cheerfull as he made the last mile into town. He was feeling a bit lighter and a lot more comfortable being he had rid hismself of the evidence of the bank job he had done in Flagstaff.

It had gone off without a hitch no one had gotten a look at his face behind his bandanna nobody got hurt and he was instantly avery rich man. He'd never killed anyone and didn't intend to, but always feared the day would come when he would have to make a choice to save his own skin.

He had enough now to settle down, homestead a piece of land, go after some wild mustangs he had heard were starting to gather up in the canyons around Tucson, brake 'em and sell 'em.

That plan was a ways off, for now he just wanted a bath, breakfast, a good stiff drink and the company of a pretty woman. Tucson he'd heard was a good place to get all of that and then some. Maybe he'd even get a shave and a haircut and some new duds.

As the town came into view, he got his bearings. A blacksmith shop and livery stable on one end of mainstreet, a hotel with a barver shop on the second floor, he'd check that out later. A saloon that advertised good food and drink. And a place called Sarah'N dipity, "no doubt the local cat house' he thought. Red curtains in the windows womens skirts and petticoats hanging on the lines streached between it and the next building, a drygoods and hardware store. Further down a theater and a half dozen more nondescript stores, on both sides of the street. At the far end of town a school and a church stood sort of set off by themselves not really fitting in but necessary.

Turning his horse when he reached the saloon he nodded and tipped his hat to the two ladies sitting in a settee in the morning sun and caught a glimps of a tin star glinting in the sunlight on the chest of a man eating in the saloon. A figure in overallls licking on a lollipop, no doubt a young boy was standing nearby.

Ringo reckoned he was a young boy, until the figure turned to the side and he caught a glimse of soft skin and the curve of a soft young breast nestled in the shadows of the cloth.

He headed for the livery stable and sought out a young man hitching up a wagon. You got time to rub down my horse and see it gets something to eat" he said as he tossed the lad a silver dollar. Might be staying the night if you have room for him."

The young man nodded and smiled. "And you, mister..where you headed."

"Ringo, the names Ringo and I'm looking for a bed and a meal up that a'way. he pointed up mainstreet. "You might be..?"

"Denver, folks here call me Denver." The young man answered. I'm heading that way myself. I'll take care of your horse though. In a jiffy he had Ringos horse in a stall and hay in front of him. His saddle and bridle off and a quick rubdown.

Ringo grabbed his saddle bags where he had his guns hidden and the rest of his gear and threw them over his shoulder and followed Denver up the street.

He tipped his hat to the overalled girl, to the ladies on the settee and stepped into the saloon.

"Morning Sheriff." he said cordually and sat brazenly down beside him.

Sheriff Hornsby

The Sheriff stood like a gentleman as Bel left. He sat down with a frown, disappointed by the fact that he couldn't have his chat with the madam like he had wanted. He called to Kelly O'Shea to bring him something that sticks to his ribs. The two shared a chuckle; such food isn't the best idea in a desert climate. Roger had been looking forward to this all day. Though you wouldn't think it by his casual attitude, the sheriff had the habit of getting up early to get things done before the city got busy. He had already finished his daily reports, wrote to his brother back east and sent a telegram for resupplying his office. He had already had a fullday; now he needed a full stomach.

A few minuted passed and Kelly slid a plate of grits, eggs and bacon under his nose, complete with a piping hot cup of coffee. He hadn't noticed it yet; his senses had locked on the curvy seducting young woman sitting by the door. He felt a lump in his throat as he realized that those overalls were all she had on. Such a tender young thing sitting there, brimming with life and energy. He had seen her walking the halls of Sarah'NDippity, but never had a chance to corner her and have his time with her. As he looked on her soft skin, he cursed his luck for not getting his chance yet. He realizes his order has arrived and begins eating, hoping that Delilah won't slip away again.

Tempting The Sheriff

Delilah smiled to the Sheriff as the boss left. She was so good at waht she did that she could make herself blush at will. Occassionally she would look over to him like a shy little girl full of curiosity. When he looked to her she blushed and looked away. When his food came out she saw her opportunity.

She walked over to him with her lolly pop stuck in her mouth and sat next to him. She softly said, "Hi, Sheriff." She licked at her lollypop and twirled one pigtail with the other hand, "I am glad we have you to keep this city safe. You are so big and strong." She then giggled childishly and pulled out a wrapped lollypop from a side pocket. She smiled to him with wide fawn like eyes, "You want a lolly pop Mr. Sheriff?" She licked hers again very seductively, "They taste very good."

Kelly wasn't a bartender by trade, just by unhappy circumstance. That wasn't to say that he didn't enjoy working at the Sarah N' Dipity, he did, it was clean and lively. The girls were a marvel. Kelly, however, was a fighter, not a server. Of course that's how he got on here, keeping the peace from any customer that got a little rowdy for his own good. So when the Sheriff ordered a meal Kelly just gave the man the laugh he was expecting and put his plate down when it was ready. The day would come soon when Kelly would drag some poor luckless soul in front of the sheriff and ask for the bounty. It would be better if the sheriff was in a pleasant frame of mind about Kelly at the time. All to often a local sheriff would make collecting bounties difficult for anybody he didn't care for. So Kelly was willing to make the effort to stay on the man's good side. Besides, Sarah seemed to like him and if keeping on the sheriff's good side was smart, then staying on the good side of your boss was positively genius.

A few girls were loitering around the place this morning, some hoping an early customer would walk in, some enjoying the warm morning air, other just hanging around beacuse they had nothing better to do at the moment. Sarah had asked to introduce Delilah and the sheriff, but it appeared the girl didn't need any suggestions. It didn't look like the sheriff was going to need any suggestions either from the eager look on his face.

Sugar had been floating around earlier as well, and that thought brought a wry twist to his mouth. That red hair of hers was no lie. Although Kelly himself had not taken up any of the girl's time yet, he had seen the way she had graced around the place, and he had seen the look on her customer's faces before and after their "encounters." Certain things just didn't need to be said to be known.

And then there was Sarah herself. The lady walked about her place in a way that indicated an empress surveying her domain. Beautiful, easy with a smile, confident, and soon she was going to be quite a wealthy woman. The best of all was the amount of trust she had placed on his shoulders, confident that he would take care of any problems that arose.

As a rule Kelly didn't spend much time playing with the girls. It wasn't smart to mix business with pleasure, even when pleasure was the business. Still, he was a young man and one could only work around so many beautiful girls for so long without distractions occuring.

Sarah {Bel}

Sarah walked out of the front porch, into the dusty street, her senses alive and singing. She was surprised at the extent of the hunger in her soul over the soft pressure of Sugar’s lips against her own and completely unprepared for the heat and aggressive force with which she’d responded. It wasn’t like her.

‘Of course, it’s been awhile since my partner’s been by,” she mused to herself, 'perhaps too long.' She pulled her eyes away from the blank internal stare that her musing had focused on and looked at Denver, a smile burgeoning on her lips that she did her best to hide. Maybe Sugar was the answer to more than one problem here.

She gave Denver a bright, cheery smile, wishing him fair weather, not that there was much else this far south, handing him gold for the trip ahead before she strode back to the saloon.

Despite the intensity of the kiss, she’d caught a look at the dusty cowboy that had paced past the porch and into the saloon and a little warning bell had rung clearly in her head. As she entered, she wasn’t surprised to see the Sheriff engrossed in the young antics of Delilah, her sensual caress of the lollypop and the soft intimate pout on her lips a wonder to behold. She was surprised, however, to see the stranger belly up to the bar on the Sheriff’s right side.

For a brief moment she wondered if her internal alarms had gone a little haywire – a residual effect of that kiss? Kelly’s pose, stiff and intent behind the polished bar told her otherwise. Sarah’s stride, innately sensual, a hip-swinging gait, crosses the floor between them as she placed herself next to the stranger with a cautious smile of welcome.

“Hello stranger, my name is Bel. Welcome to the Sarah’N Dipity. What brings you into town?”

Denver

As Denver pulled the wagon around to the front of the brothel and slowed to a stop he glanced down into the covered porch to see a sight that set his blood racing. Sarah was sitting on the settee with the new girl, Sugar or Caroline depending on whether you were a customer or not. Not only were they sitting there but much to Denver's surprise the two attractive women where in a heated embrace. Denver knew he shouldn't be watching them as they continued to kiss but he couldn't draw his eyes from the most erotic scene he'd ever seen. He felt as if he should announce his presence somehow but was afraid of interrupting the two women. Finally Sarah drew back from Sugar's embrace, saying something softly to the stunning redhead before she stepped out into the sun to speak with him.

Most of what she said to him was lost as Denver wasn't really paying any attention to his surrogate mother, his eyes fixed on Caroline's shapely figure as she reclined on the settee. He had seen her around the place for the last week but he hadn't had the chance to get introduced to her yet. Most of the time she was busy entertaining a customer or he was on some errand for Sarah when they passed in the busy hallways of the house. He was paying just enough attention to what Sarah was saying to hold his hand out when she passed him the gold. He waved good-bye to her as she stepped back into the building, his eyes being drawn back to where Sugar stood just inside the porch.

Cecilia

Cecilia eased down the back steps of the houses, as silent as a cat. She had learned years ago to move silent yet graceful. It was too early for business hours but she knew men came when they wanted to regardless of the business hours, and Cecilia made sure she wasn’t seen in day light hours. Even when she went out in the street she was covered from head to toe, in black veils. She had been taught long ago that she was never to be seen fully by a man, unless she was giving pleasure, and if a man was to see her face she was to immediately give him pleasure or be punished, and though she had escaped her Master the lessons he taught her still remained with her. As she moved towards the kitchen her sky blue day dress slapped lightly against her warm skin, she listening, hearing Tamara talking to Denver, Cilia smiled knowing the girl had taken a shine to the young stable boy. All the girl and Denver had seen Cilia in and out of her black attire, she hid nothing of beauty from then, and sometimes offered them suggestion in the ways of pleasing a man fully. That was one of the things that she liked about this house. Women were not afraid to give or get pleasure.

Cecilia stepped into the kitchen her small slipped feet carried her with a sensual grace that she didn’t have to practice, it just came nature as breathing. She watched as Tamara re-entered the kitchen area, and upon seeing Cilia she blushed.

“You need not be ashamed of your feeling for him, Tam it is only normal. I keep telling you pleasures of the body are natural.” Tamara didn’t look at Cilia but she did breathe easier and smiled.

“I know what you dun tole me Miss Cilia but Ma would skin me alive if’n she knew I had taken a liken to Denver, You know how she feels about this here place, even though I keep telling her yall ladies are really nice.”

As Tamara talked she sat at the table and watched as Cilia went about making breakfast for them both, very few people knew Cilia could cook. They did this every morning. Cilia was the only woman of color that Tamara had ever seen and she was fascinated by Cilia. Once she got over her initial fear they had become fast friends. Cilia was still mystery to most, know one knew exactly where she came from, only that she was taught in Arabic art form of pleasing. Cilia had taught Tamara about the pleasures of her own body and how to make her body come alive with no men involved, and every since then Cilia always shared little bit of information with Tamara about pleasure. When Tamara had told Cilia about being caught stealing and how aroused she had become by being spanked by Denver, Cilia had shared with her that lots of woman as well as men found pleasure from painful stimulation and that it was nothing to be ashamed of. That she did not share her pleasure with Denver was the shameful part.

“So what are you going to teach me today Miss Cilia?” Tamara asked with a wicked smile.

Cilia knew Tamara was always shocked by the things she said and taught seeing as her mother didn’t believe women should find carnal pleasure.

“Well today young Miss we are going to learn how to be seductive yet not seem so, if you do things right your young Mr. Denver’s cock will be hard as a pipe when every you like!” Cilia grin as she set the plate of food before the girl and started telling her how to be a sly seductive.

Sugar

Since all of the excitement seemed to be happening at the saloon next door, Sugar, after a few moments of recovery, found herself padding across the porch, through the majestic foyer, pushing open the huge carved oak door that led to the Saloon.

The small step down, into the murky interior, was her undoing. Tripping over the long hem of her lush skirt, she tried to hang onto the door, which opened despite her grasp and left her sprawling in the middle of the saloon floor, a graceless blushing heap. With a sinking heart she wondered if she’d ever overcome her shoddy origins and become the lady she so wanted to be.

Sheriff Hornsby

The sheriff finishes the bite of food in his mouth as he looks up to find Delilah standing by his table. He grins as she seats herself at his table. He watches her move, catching a flash of her breast as she sits. There was something about her, her voice, her dress and her innosence, one of them wasn't right. He had an idea which one it was too. He couldn't believe that the youngest woman in the "business" could be the hardest to resist. His mind turned to thoughts of how long she had taken to get this act down. He knew one way to find out.

He began to reach out for the sucker and a torrid line about Delilah's "sweetness" was forming in his head. That thought was stunted by the sound behind him. It sounded like someone falling. Sure enough, as he turned in his seat, he saw Sugar laying there in a heap. He didn't know why, but could piece it together: the step up into the main house, the length of her dress. Just a hapless misstep was all it took. Being the gentleman that he was, he hurried over to the fallen lady, lifting her gently by the arm.

"You should be more careful. Would be a shame to see you off your feet for a time," he joked, grinning into the eyes of the "rescued" maiden. He had a fondness for Sugar; she was like a coin. She had two sides; both so different, but they made one magnificent whole. He was glad that he came here opening night and the night after. His time with Sugar had been the most fulfilling sexual experience he'd had since becoming a man. He's still not sure how he managed to walk home the next morning. As good as she was those nights, Roger knows that she has a lot more to show him.

That thought rocks him like a hard punch. Could Sugar have taught Delilah? 'No, it couldn't be. there mannerisms outside the bedroom are so different. Although, I don't know what Delilah is like IN the bedroom. I need to find out..... to see if my theory is correct, of course.' He shakes his head as if to assure himself that had to find out how good Delilah was. Maybe she WAS as sweet as the candy she ate......