’ ‘Welcome to Lonesome, you are in cabin D. If you would follow me it is just through the trees behind the jail.’ ‘Jail, do you have many trou...les here with outlaws and the like?’ ‘No, not generally. But sometimes we get a few locals that get a little rowdy when they come to town.’ ‘Do many locals come to town?’ ‘Yes, they ride in mostly on Saturday evenings when we have card night in the saloon. Some take to the drink more than the cards. We do have a sheriff on duty at all times. If anything. The light changed and John turned the corner and onto the sidestreet. It was Maple. Belle used to live here. Roger still did. Belle recognized the houses and stopped rubbing herself. She pushed her fingers in her mouth and licked them clean, enjoying the taste she'd hated just a few months ago. She squinted her eyes, trying to remember why she knew these houses, but couldn't. "Here we are," John announced, pulling the car into the driveway. Belle recognized it. "I live here..." she said slowly,. Thank You.”“Of course, my eager little slut,” He said as He reached for the crop and began to ferociously stripe her bound and clamped breasts. The bells gave a steady melody to the silibant slash and percussive crack of the crop — the music to which He made her dance. Her body convulsed with sobs of ecstacy.The slashes stopped as He ripped the clamp from her clit, and rubbed the tortured, engorged flesh as the blood flowed back into it. The agony was pure bliss; the. Moaning loudly, the woman arched her back, throwing her head back on the carpet. "Yeees," she cried, grabbing her breasts with both hands. Sylvia could almost feel what the woman felt. The man's lips sucking her pussy, his stubble scratching the tender skin of her thighs. Sylvia felt herself getting wet. Slowly she reached under her skirt and pushed the crotch of her panties aside to feel her flesh. She was even wetter than she thought, her labia all slippery with juice. She wanted to touch.