Author's note: All sexual acts in this story are performed by adults 18 years of age or older.
---->Warning: Sex in this story consists of Group sex; Interracial; BBC; Nonconsent/Reluctance; Hetero Oral/vaginal/anal. And just a "touch" of cuckolding?
I was inspired to write this one after reading one of my all time favorites on Literotica. "Kept" by Oshaw. It's about a man on a wagon train during the California gold rush. If you haven't read it? Then I highly recommend it as it is an exceptional piece of Fiction under the "Loving Wives" category. Pretty much anything by Oshaw is damned good, as a matter of fact.
HOWEVER - "THIS" story is a western set in a wagon train on it's way to the Virginia City Silver rush. See the inspiration I was talking about? It is a long story. So if you're looking for something fast to throw into the spank bank? Then you probably want to move on to another story.
Thank you.
Hayden D. Linder
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Can you ride?"
"Can you shoot?"
"And it helps if you're ugly."
~Texas Ranger recruitment poster~
Cateh hated being a whore but she was good at it. She learned early on how to read a man. When to be a bitch. When to be a friend. When to flatter. When to ridicule. Men were pretty easy to read more times than not. Though there were always exceptions.
Tennessee Mike was not one of them. Mike had three wagons, 18 girls, 3 guards and a Madam named Gertie. Gertie was a thin waif of a woman. Almost passed her prime. Cateh dreaded the thought that someday she'll have been in this business as long as Gertie. She caught herself making a face and quickly went back to smiling pleasantly to the men who walked passed Mike's wagons.
When Mike got word of another silver strike in Virginia City, Nevada. He began buying up girls contracts and purchasing supplies for the long trek. Mike could care less about silver. But he knew Miners liked to fuck and with a new influx of people. That meant there was money to be made. So he bought what he could in Kansas City. Joined a train of men going to Denver. And made money like a pimp along the way.
Most of the folks joining the wagon train were single men. Bent on making it rich from the silver in Virginia City. And Mike was intent on getting what little money those men had.
Tennessee Mike bought Cateh's contract from a bastard of a man in a small town just outside of Kansas City. It did not take her long to understand what kind of boss Mike was. Mike grew up poor and making his living from stealing and lying on the streets of Jackson Mississippi. She didn't know how he got his name but she knew he wasn't the kind of pimp that seduced a woman into this career. He was the kind that bought your contract and expected you to make him money. And if you had a problem with that? Well, Mike would help you overcome your difficulties.
Cateh shuddered remembering the last girl. She decided it would be far better to focus on her task of enticing the young men of...
"Girtie? ...Where are we?" She asked.
"Little fart of a town called "Salina." Girtie answered.
"That's a funny lookin cowpoke." She heard Lisa say.
Mike had parked his three wagons to form a "U" shape. So the ladies could sit in the middle to catch the eye of would be customers. Lisa was one of the younger girls. Just turned eighteen. And as such, Girtie kept her sitting in the middle with her. Not far from their small campfire.
Cateh looked up to see who Lisa was talking about. What she saw was a rather dower looking man riding slowly toward them. He looked to be in his thirties. With black hair and dark eyes. He was clean shaven. With clean clothes. Black slacks. White collarless shirt. A brown big brimmed hat. Cowboy boots. NO spurs she noticed. And a Colt .45 Peacemaker in a cross draw over his left hip.
"That ain't no cowpoke." Gertie commented.
"Miner?" One of the girls asked.
"Too clean." Cateh answered.
She saw him wish Mr. Goffins good morning at the wagon just before theirs and then the man looked up to make eye contact with her. Cateh felt a nervous tremor flutter through her. He was one of those exceptions. She had no idea what kind of man he was.
His horse continued on to stop about twenty yards in front of the ladies.
"Good morning." He nodded without a smile as he crossed his arms over the pommel of his saddle to rest.
Cateh still couldn't get a read on the man but she decided to chance it. She cocked her left leg up on top of a small crate. The slit in her skirt allowed it to fall and expose her long tan Seminole calf and thigh. She watched as the man's eyes slowly climbed up her leg and she smiled. She crossed her arms under her breasts. Causing more of her cleavage to be on display due to her loose fitting camisole. She watched as his stare climbed up her hips to her breasts and finally reached her face.
With her long black hair lightly blowing in the wind, she knew she looked stunning. And she could finally tell he liked it.
"What can we do for you, Mr.?" She asked with a grin.
"THESE ARE THE WHORES OF BABYLON AND THEY WILL TAKE YOU TO HELL WITH THEM!"
The "Fire and brimstone" minister from a few wagons away had snuck up on her.
Again.
The rider watched as Cateh's eyes rolled and her head fell back in exasperation. Until she glared at the screaming old man in the black suit and hat. She saw the stranger calmly look at the Minister who had come to a stop only a few feet from his horse. And then just as calmly, the newcomer returned his glance to her.
"You have to forgive Parson Withers, here. He's just sure we're gonna drag you to perdition." She told the rider with a sarcastic smile. "I've found that he leaves rather quickly if you use harsh language..." She glanced back at the Parson. "...and THREATS - OF - VIOLENCE!"
The Parson took a step back before looking at the stranger again.
"Please feel free to do the same." She smiled pleasantly at the stranger.
Then the man said the one thing she never expected to come out of his mouth.
"I'm a Preacher."
...
Parson Withers smiled.
She was stunned. It took her a moment to realize she had dropped her leg down to be hidden behind her skirt. That irritated her. But when she noticed all of the girls quietly pulling their shawls closed to conceal their cleavage? That infuriated her.
The Preacher had started to dismount. She didn't care. She was angry. She stormed over to him in time for him to turn around only to find her standing a few inches away.
"Well, let's hear it then!" She screamed. "Not bad enough we got one son of bitch callin us trash all God - damned - day! Now we got two of ya?!"
The Preacher glanced at the Parson before looking back at her. "You have to forgive our brother, here. He's working under the delusion that you girls have a choice."
Cateh was stunned.
Again.
The Preacher rubbed her upper right arm in a comforting manner before slipping passed her.
"Any chance I can get some of that coffee?" He asked Girtie.
It took Girtie a moment to realize he was talking to her. She gave herself a small shake before reaching for the pot on their campfire and a cup. "Of course, Preacher. Have a seat." She smiled nervously.
"Are you actually going to sit down with these harlots?" Parson Withers asked as he walked up to the Preacher.
The Preacher looked at him. "I do believe I have to, Brother."
