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Sex in the wild wild west

PART ONE – Missionaries

It was a dark and stormy night…

That's a pretty trite way to begin a story, but it's true. The wind was howling like a son-of-a-bitch and the downpour outside was making life miserable for anyone foolish enough to venture out in it. I'd taken refuge in cheap dive down by the harbor where I could drink cheap beer and watch the whores. The whores had all given up on me, but they were fun to watch anyway, as they flashed their tits at the suckers, trying to lure them on. My last beer was about gone and I was wondering if I could con the bartender into running me a tab when Matt Gromley, a sometime acquaintance, was blown in out of the storm. Two other damn fools were with him, but they were so encased in slickers that I had no idea who they were. The three of them took a table in the back of the room and I heard Matt order a bottle.

Matt was about like me, never had enough money for more than a couple of beers, so I figured he must have found himself a real sucker. I was idly trying to decide if it would be worth my while to join them when Matt pulled a stool up beside me.

"Yo Nate. Still hanging around? That beer looks about dry, buy you another?"

I was more than a little taken aback. Matt almost never had any money, and when he did, he never bought drinks. I knew he would expect something in return, but I'd about decided that my chances with the bartender were nil, so I really didn't give a shit. I nodded my assent and a fresh beer appeared in front of me.

"Why don't you bring your beer and join us in back? We've got a fresh bottle," Matt said.

I knew damn well he had a fresh bottle, and my mouth was salivating at the thought of it. I still didn't know what he wanted, but for a crack at that bottle, I was willing to listen to anything.

When I got back there, Matt poured me a drink and then introduced me to his two companions. The first one he introduced as Colonel Broaddus. The Colonel was a tall, slim man, dark hair, silver at the temples. The second one was still bundled up in the slicker. When Matt introduced her as Mrs. Broaddus, I understood why. A woman, especially a married woman, had no business in that den of pimps, whores and cheap liquor. For the life of me, I couldn't understand what she was doing there. We had a couple of drinks and shared several stories, mostly about my adventures leading wagon trains across the plains, but she never said a word.

After about half an hour they left. I was still wondering what they wanted with me, but after I discovered that they'd left better than half the bottle I decided not to worry about it. I had a fine hangover when Matt woke me up the next morning.

"Nate, get your ass up and get presentable. The Colonel and Mrs. Broaddus want to see you."

"Wh-what the fuck are you talking about?"

"The Colonel and Mrs. Broaddus. You remember, those people I introduced you to last night. I think they want to offer you a job, so you better make yourself decent and get on down to the hotel."

"A job? What the fuck do you mean?" I hadn't had a job in so long I'd forgotten what it was like to have change in my pocket.

"Yeah, a job. They need someone to drive their wagons across the plains. I don't know that you're the best, but you're the best that's available. So get yourself together. I'll see you over at the hotel."

I couldn't believe it, a real job. I knocked the dust off of my shirt and had and hurried over to the hotel.

Matt was waiting in the lobby and took me into the dining room where the Colonel and Mrs. Broaddus were having breakfast. The way I felt, I damn near threw up at the sight of food, so it didn't bother me a bit when all they offered me was coffee. I really needed another drink to settle my stomach and clear my head, but I figured that could wait, at least until after the interview.

"Mr. Singletry," the Colonel began. That's me, Richard Nathaniel Singletry, but I go by Nate. I can't remember the last time somebody put "Mr." in front of my name. Son-of-a-bitch or asshole was more what I was used to. "My wife and I are leading a dedicated group of missionaries to convert the heathen Sioux."

That got my attention. If they really planned to take their bible thumping ways to the Sioux, the only thing they were likely to change would be their chances at a long life. I took a long look at both of them. Anybody that fucking crazy, deserved at least that. The Colonel was just as I remembered him – tall, thin, with a high sweeping forehead. His wife still hadn't said a word, but now that she wasn't covered up with the slicker, I could see her – at least part of her. She had a good face, strong but not too strong, soft lips and the kind of eyes that made me weak in the knees. Long blond hair hung down to her shoulders, but the rest of her was covered with a black dress, from her neck to her ankles. But even that dress couldn't hide the face that there was a good looking body underneath it. I just felt it was a shame she was going out west to commit suicide. Fortunately, it didn't have anything to do with me.

"Mr. Singletry, Mr. Gromley tells us you're the best wagon master in the business. Somehow I doubt that you're the best, but you are the best we've talked to. We'd like you to lead us to the heathen."

I'd been expecting this, and I was ready. "No Sir, I'm sorry, but I can't do that. When I lead a train I try to stay away from the Sioux. People that don't have a way of winding up dead. And from what you tell me, you don't just want to go across their land, you want to meet up with them. Take my advice. Go back to New York or wherever you came from and leave the Sioux alone. We'll all be happier for it."

I pushed my chair back and got up. "As for me, I'll be on my way. I've got some unfinished business I need to tend to."

Mrs. Broaddus spoke up for the first time. "Mr. Singletry, we're offering five dollars a day, plus meals."

That stopped me. I was used to a dollar a day and having to fend for myself for meals. "What would I be expected to do for this money, Mrs. Broaddus?"

"Just take care of our wagons and horses and lead us across the plains, Mr. Singletry. Mr. Gromley will be along as scout and handyman and the rest of the women will take care of the cooking and cleaning."

I knew what Matt was along for. The only thing he was handy with was a gun. "How many people are in this party?"

"Not counting you and Mr. Gromley, there's twelve of us. Four men and eight women."

I wasn't ready to admit it, but she'd gotten me when she mentioned $5. For that kind of money I'd of introduced them to Sitting Bull. And if the rest of the women looked anything like she did, I might just get lucky.

So it were fourteen of us altogether who made the trek out west to save the heathen Indians. Our leader, Colonel Broaddus, was a civil war vet and still liked to keep the title. I said he was our leader, but if the truth were known, his wife, Angela, made all the decisions. She led him around by the nose and the rest of us followed. I was never sure why the rest of them followed her, but I knew what my motives were. She paid me regular and I kept hoping against hope to get into her pants. If she hadn't been so damned straight laced, I'd of balled her in a second. But we were a month out of St. Louis. I'd given up on getting laid and was just hoping to get a smile out of her, but so far I hadn't even gotten that. I figured it was just one of God's practical jokes – all those good looks wasted on a frigid, domineering bitch like her.

Their daughter, Susan, had inherited her mothers good looks, but fortunately, not her attitudes, except when it came to sex. Like her dad, she was a Milquetoast. Whatever her mother said, that's what she did. I knew I was never going to get anywhere near her, but at least she smiled at me.

The Colonel's assistant, Major Bromley, was a portly man. Not much good for anything, but he could thump a bible with the best of them. I don't think he'd ever been in the war, but he was the Colonel's assistant, so I guess that's where he got the title. Agnes, his wife, was almost as big around as he was. At least she had been when we'd left St. Louis. But a month on the road was starting to slim her down already, and the hornier I got, the better she was starting to look. To be honest, she didn't really look that bad anyway, but losing another 20 or 30 pounds wouldn't hurt her. Like a lot of heavy women, she had a very pretty face and was really quite attractive, despite her girth. She was Angela's assistant and made damn sure the rest of the women stayed in line.

The rest of the Colonel's following consisted of Ned and Maggie Smith, Bob and Priscilla Parker, and three single women, Mabel, Lucille and Rachel. Oh, and Matt and me of course.

If it hadn't of been for the drab clothes they wore every one of the women, even fat Agnes, would have turned heads anywhere she went. I don't know if beauty was one of the Colonel's prerequisites to join the group or not, but it sure seemed that way. After Angela, Priscilla was my favorite. But Bob was a giant of a man and I was afraid he had a jealous streak to match his strength. At any rate, he was big enough that I didn't want to take the chance. All of them were lookers. It was just too bad they wore those ugly clothes.

It turned out that their ugly clothes were a requirement. The Colonel's brand of Christianity required the women to be excessively modest in everything they did. So they all wore plain black skirts that swept the ground. Their matching blouses had long sleeves and a high collar that fit high around the neck. And no makeup of course. On special days they'd decorate themselves with a bit of white lace.

Matt and I had been picked to join the group at the last minute. Matt because he could speak Sioux and was good with a gun and me because I could drive the wagons and knew my way across the desert and the mountains. But neither of us had ever really fit in. The Colonel and his group were bringing Christianity to the heathen Indians, but Matt and I just wanted to get laid. The two of us had long talks and we'd of both given almost anything to get under some of those skirts, but we also knew it would be worth our jobs to even try.

The closest I ever got to any of them was one afternoon after we'd camped near a stream. I'd snuck away to get a couple hours of sleep while they set up camp, and found a dandy place on a high rock overlooking the stream, but out of everybody's sight. I guess I'd been up there for about half an hour when I was woken up by the women laughing as they walked down to the stream. Curiosity beat out my need for sleep and I peered over the edge of the rock to see what they were doing. All thoughts of sleep disappeared when they all peeled off their black dresses and started washing them in the stream. And they made quite a sight, kneeling there in their white bloomers and stays. The good Christian boy my mamma raised would have backed out of there and never said a word to anyone, but I'd long since outgrown that shit. I just knew that I was finally going to get a chance to see what they really looked like.

It wasn't long before Angela stood up, stripped off her undies and dove cleanly into the water. The rest of them followed right behind her. I knew better than to try and sneak any closer; I'd get caught for sure, and that would mean my job. Even at that distance, I could make out their well shaped tits and the darker spot at the juncture of their thighs. With a fertile imagination like mine, just watching them gave me enough memories to last a good long while.

I just couldn't figure these bible thumpers out. They'd all given up comfortable lives back east, just so they could bring civilization to the heathen Indians. Now here we were, camped at the foothills of the Rockies and the heathens were about to tell us that they didn't want our fucking civilization.

Our camp had been overrun during the night. I'm not sure how, I think Bromley had gone to sleep or something, but I really don't know. Gromley and Ned Smith had both been killed trying to defend the camp, but it had been useless. With those two dead, there were only four of us men against about a hundred Indians. It was over in a hurry, and now we were sitting with our wrists and ankles tied, under the watchful eyes of those heathens we were going to civilize.

Then their Chief addressed us. I was amazed that he spoke better English than I did. He gave us a long speech about how he had been taken east as a child and raised in New York, but eventually he had gotten fed up with the white man's ways and come back to his people. The one thing he did miss though was the burlesque shows. Indian women just couldn't get the hang of it. So he was going to have our women put on a little show for all of us to enjoy. After the show was over, they'd keep what they wanted and the rest of us could go on about our business.

I have to admit, I thought it was a pretty good deal. We were going to get out with our lives and it sounded like we were going to get to see the women strip as well. I hadn't had a woman since we'd left St. Louis over two months ago, and every one of these was a good looker. Even the fat one had started to look better as the trip wore her down. If the Indians kept any of the women, well, them's the breaks. At least the rest of us would still be alive.

Major Bromley, however, was having none of it. He was at his bible thumping best. "No, no," he screamed. "You can't force them to do that! These are good Christian women! They'll die before they'll submit to your bestial demands!"

The Chief nodded at one of his henchmen. One round from Gromley's pistol and Bromley joined Ned and Matt, face down in the dirt.

"Is there anyone else who objects to my program?" the Chief asked.

Needless to say, the Colonel, Bob Parker and I just sat there.

The Indians formed a circle and the ladies were led into the center of it. While we had been sitting there, some of the squaws had been supervising them while they had been getting dressed. And they did look nice – even in their black skirts. They were all wearing plenty of lace and had on full petticoats. Each one of them looked like she was ready for a night on the town and it wasn't even 9 in the morning yet.

One item of apparel I know wasn't in their bags. They were each wearing a collar with a leash attached and they each had a squaw to lead them around. One quick turn around the circle to show us their finery and they were led to a small knoll overlooking the circle. Out of the way, but they could see everything that went on.

Then the Chief called Mrs. Broaddus to the center of the circle. First he apologized for the quality of the music, but there was only so much you could do with a tom-tom.

"Now do not try my patience Mrs. Broaddus. I expect you to dance until we get tired of watching you. You might have to take all your clothes off."

"All my clothes? Then I'd be naked? Naked? You expect me to strip naked? The Colonel's never seen me naked. No! There's no way that I am going to bare myself for you."

"I didn't say you were going to have to. I only said that I expected you to dance until we got tired of watching, and that you might have to take all your clothes off. I'm going to ask you one more time, Mrs. Broaddus. Are you going to dance for us or not?"

"I certainly am not! The nerve! To think that I would even consider disrobing in front of you…"

The Chief didn't say another word. The squaw dropped the leash and Angela looked around for someplace to escape to. I don't know where she thought she was going to go, but it didn't matter. Two of the Indians grabbed her by the arms and held her in the middle of the circle. Then the squaw grabbed Angela's dress at the neck and literally ripped it off of her. Another rip and her petticoats joined the ruined dress. A screaming, blushing Angela was revealed to us in her bodice, bloomers and stockings.

The squaw had moved so quickly that none of us had had a chance to react, although I'm not sure what we could have done anyway. Despite his bonds, the Colonel had started to jump up, but one of the braves placed a knife warningly against his neck and he quieted back down.

I guess Angela thought they were going to stop there. Most of her clothes were off – the only thing she had left was her underwear. She was still blushing and doing her best to cover herself, but she was regaining some of her composure.

The squaw took the Chief's knife and menacingly advanced toward Angela. "Kill me if you want, but I won't allow myself to be debased this way! I won't take anymore of my clothes off. I won't submit to your profane desires!" she screamed.

But Angela had misunderstood the squaw's intentions. A few quick cuts and the few scraps of dress that remained were removed. Then the squaw placed the knife against her neck.

Ever the proud stoic, Angela raised her head high, revealing the full line of her throat. "Go ahead, cut my throat. But please make it quick. After disgracing me like this, I can never show myself with decent folk again anyway."

One quick slice of the knife and the bodice fell away. Angela was nude from the waist up. She barely had time to gasp as her breasts sprang into view before the knife was slipped in the waistband of her bloomers. Her proud stoicism vanished like a whisp of smoke.

"Ohmigod!!" she screamed. "My breasts, they're naked! My God, what are you doing to me? What are you doing now? Oh no, not that! Oh please don't do that! Not my pants! Leave me my bloomers at least! Leave me some modesty. don't disgrace me completely. Please don't take my bloomers off too! Then I'll be completely naked!! Oh please, please dooooooooooon't…"

The bloomers were gone! And she was absolutely right. She was naked. Butt fucking naked except for her shoes and stockings. And the squaw was busy working on those. In less time than she had spent discussing her unveiling, Angela had been stripped naked and her shredded clothing was piled in front of her. By now, even her shoes and stockings were gone. The only thing she had on was her collar and her leash.

I said she was a handsome woman. I was wrong, she was beautiful. With the two braves holding her arms the way they were she was fully exposed and I couldn't help but admire her. I think I said earlier that she was about 40, but despite her age, her breasts were full and firm with none of that sag that normally attacks women her age. Her areoles were the size of silver dollars and the nipples were already hard from this uninvited exposure. The way her hips swelled out from her slender waist reminded me of a 20 year old. I know it was wrong of me, but I was hoping the Chief did strip her daughter, just so we could compare the two. I rather suspected the mother would come out the winner. Angela was blushing before, but now that she was naked, her whole body was tinged with pink. It made a fine accent for the fine mesh of blond pubic hair which barely covered the lips of her pussy.

Angela was in tears. When the Indians released her, she made a desperate grab for her ruined clothing in a feeble attempt to find something, anything to cover herself with. But the squaw would have none of that. Grabbing Angela's leash, she led her around the circle again, but this time the once proud Angela was doing everything she could to conceal her finery.

If our situation hadn't been so precarious, I'd of had to laugh. But she did look ludicrous – hunkered over to make herself as small as possible, one arm was shielding her tits, but the nipples poked out anyway, and the other hand was over her crotch. And the way she was hobbling along after the squaw, with her knees held tightly together, I thought she was going to fall over.

But she was determined nobody would see her cunt. About halfway around the circle, the squaw stopped to let some Indians examine her up close. That's when the depths of her predicament became apparent to her. One of the Indians grabbed her ass. When Angela moved her hands to protect her backside, other hands immediately covered her exposed tits and twat, tweaking her nipples and pulling her pubic hair. Angela was starting to go into hysterics when the squaw led her away. Eventually, she ended up in front of the Chief, sobbing hysterically and still futilely trying to cover herself.

The Chief appraised his captive for a few minutes. Then he had the squaw turn her around so he could appraise her rump. Her hands were slapped down and they forced her to stand up straight so the braves were treated to an unobstructed view of her tits and pussy. Angela was blushing before. Under this scrutiny she was really blushing. This was the ultimate degradation, stripped naked and put on public display. But she must have been getting a little excited. It might have been the tweaking they had been subjected to earlier, but her nipples were hard and erect.

The Chief's appraisal went on for so long that Angela was starting to get edgy. Surely he hadn't stripped her just so he could see what she looked like. But it seemed like that's all that was going to happen. It was mortifying, standing there naked while the Chief and his Indians looked at her breasts, buttocks and pubic area, but if that's all that was going to happen she knew she should be grateful. At least no one was touching her anymore. She had expected to be raped, and thought she'd rather die, but she was certain she could endure this. She just hoped that nothing worse happened to any of the other women. Then she learned that being stripped publicly wasn't the ultimate degradation.

The Chief nodded and the squaw forced her to bend over and place her hands on her knees. Her feet were kicked apart and then she was told to spread them some more. Bent over like that with her legs spread, she know that her most private parts, her anus and vulva, were completely exposed to the eyes of her captor. And not only his eyes, but his hands as well. She lost what little composure she had left when she felt his hands on her crotch and his fingers probing inside her vagina. Her skin was crawling and it took every bit of her strength not to scream, even before his thumb invaded her anus. Angela was trembling and almost in hysterics again. The Chief had inserted his thumb in her anus and his fingers were inside her vagina. Other hands were rubbing her buttocks, her breasts and pinching her nipples. From somewhere, other fingers seemed to be mauling her delicate clitoris. Then, as quickly as they had started, the hands were taken away.

"Mrs. Broaddus, straighten up and turn around. I like for people to look at me when I'm talking to them. No, don't bother trying to cover yourself. We've already seen everything you've got to offer, and I like to be able to look at the people I'm talking to as well."

Angela quickly put her hands at her sides and stood there, meekly listening to what the Chief had to say.

"There's another of your customs that I learned to enjoy while I was in New York. Spanking, I think you call it. It's something that's normally given to children, but I've found it to be most satisfactory when administered to a grown woman. You've displeased me so you're going to be punished, and those hips of yours are nice and soft and look like they can take a great deal. But I'm going to give you a choice. Would you prefer a spanking on your bare bottom or would you rather have an Indian whipping given to you by the squaws?"

"You wouldn't spank me! You can't whip me like a child! You've already humiliated me enough without putting me over some man's knee. You've stripped me naked for God's sakes, and done it in front everyone. Hasn't that been punishment enough?"

"Mrs. Broaddus, you haven't been punished at all yet. Now, which will it be?"

"Omigod, you're serious, aren't you? You really do intend to whip me. But why? What reason have I given you to want to whip me?"

"I don't need a reason, Mrs. Broaddus. The fact that I want to is reason enough. Added to that though, you refused to do what I asked. Your refusal and the fact that your delectable rear end just looks like it's begging for a spanking is more than enough reason to give it one."

"Ohhh God. W-w-what is this Indian whipping like?"

"A flogging, Mrs. Broaddus. Given by five of my squaws. I promise you, when they're done, you'll know you've been whipped. And I know you'll be well marked. But at least you won't have to endure the humiliation of being turned over my knee. Now hurry up and make up your mind. You're starting to try my patience. If you don't decide soon, I'll make sure you get both."

"A-a-a flogging!? Oh God, I know I couldn't stand that. If, if I'm going to have to submit to more punishment, I'll… I'll take the spanking. At least with that, I know what to expect. Where are you going to spank me? You… you will take me someplace private, I hope. You won't spank me here in public, will you?"

"Where am I going to spank you? Why, I'm going to spank you on your bare ass, Mrs. Broaddus. Where else does one get a spanking? And if you were wondering where we are going to be while I'm spanking you, we're going to be right here where your husband and everyone else can watch you jump. Might do him some good to learn how to get your attention. Now get over here and let's get started or would you like a flogging as well."

Sobbing in embarrassment, Angela clamored over his lap, her pelvis resting on his right leg and her naked breasts flopping against his left. He carefully positioned her with her ass elevated and turned so that we could see it. With her head down like that, I know she was trying to picture how she must look to us with her ass facing us like it was. Almost involuntarily, her legs and ass cheeks clenched tight and her ass seemed to blush a little more. Then he proceeded to wallop her butt. I was fascinated as the color of her delicate skin turned first to a darker pink and then to bright red. Angela tried to be a stoic about the whole thing, but I was sure that wouldn't last. She did better than I expected though. Up until her ass started to turn bright red she kept her mouth shut and her legs tightly clenched together. Then something broke inside of her and suddenly she was kicking, screaming and wailing loud enough to wake the dead.

Smack! Thwack! Smack! "Aiiee! Oh God! You're killing me!" Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! "My bottom, my poor bottom!" Thwack! Thwack! "You're peeling the skin off it, I know…" Thwack! "… you are." Thwack! Thwack!

The Chief sort of smiled at this, but kept right on beating her ass. I don't know if she was aware of it or not, or even if she cared at that point, but the way her legs were flailing around she was displaying all of her innermost secrets. She'd kept everybody but the Chief from seeing them before, but now her cunt and asshole were fully exposed to all of us.

Thwack! "Oh God, I can't take any more!" Thwack! "Please give me another chance," Thwack! "Please let me dance for you!" Thwack!

"You can't strip any more, Mrs. Broaddus. You're naked. Your clothes were ripped off of you, remember?" Thwack! Thwack! "And that's what the dance was all about."