Damsel and a Daughter

For a second chance, he traded the only thing worth more than his life....

 

(Mf, nc)

By: Seasick

 

South Dakota , 1904

"Are you okay father?" Elizabeth asked after her father handed her a medium sized satchel. He had hardly given her the green passel suitcase when he turned and downed a tumbler full of gin and tonic and headed for the bottle again. In the past few weeks, she had noticed her father's drinking had increased and his behavior towards her was cold and distant at times, and at other times was teeming with love and adoration.

"No," he said bluntly, and began to pour himself another drink. "After you put those clothes on Elizabeth, there is someone I need you to meet out in the dining car. Don't keep him waiting either."

"If that's what you want?"

"No, it's not what I want, but I made this agreement a long time ago," her father said, his voice trailing off then downed his full glass of liquor and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "And for what it's worth Liz, I really am sorry about last night, but it really was in your best interest," he concluded and then walked out of their cabin leaving Elizabeth even more confused.

Matthew Seger could feel the noose tighten around his throat as he walked up through the sleeper cars and into the dining car of the train. He hesitated at the rear end of the car, and probably would have spun around and escaped from the train altogether if his arch nemesis had not picked his eyes up from his soup and locked eyes onto his.

"Matthew," he offered, ushering with his hand for him to sit down across from him at the very formal table, "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, sheriff," he murmured through trembling lips, and then slipped behind the seat and fidgeted relentlessly with the place mat.

As he fidgeted, Matthew noticed that he had changed very little over the years, except for putting on a few extra pounds and adding more gray to his hair. Always stocky, Matt knew the sheriff relied more on his horse for his pursuits than he did his own legs, and with his increased age, he was sure that percentage had only increased. His protruding stomach gave proof to that assessment now as it stretched his woolen vest and suit jacket tightly across above his belt, the buckle shining as brightly as the star on his left breast.

"It's been awhile Matt. What, eight years?"

"Yeah, eight years," Matthew said, but he could remember it like it was yesterday. Every time he saw his daughter's face he could remember it, and every time he went into town, he could remember it. Even now he could feel the unsaddled horse underneath him, and even smell the sweat of the horse. He could even remember sweating profusely himself as he waited out his fate.

That fate resided in a long rope, wound properly with thirteen twists and looped into a hangman's noose around his neck. Secured to the heavy limb above his head, Matthew had been all to aware that a mere slap of the sheriff's riding crop and he would be lynched. Even as the horse moved, he could feel the manila rope cinch tightly around his throat. He waited in fear for the sheriff to speak, knowing at any minute he was going to ask for his last words. But when the sheriff did speak, it was with compassion, or at least had been eight years ago when a rope was looped about his neck. Now those same words haunted him.

"Does you daughter know about our agreement," he asked, bringing Matthew back to the present?

"No, I didn't have the heart to tell her."

"That I would be her employer, or that you were a train robber at one point in your life?"

"Both."

"So this will be interesting then?"

Matt looked out the window, unable to face the man that was about to take his daughter. He wanted to challenge him, but with the passing of time, the sheriff's influence and authority had increased in direct proportion to his graying hair. Matt looked around the dining car, knowing the man would not be brazen enough to come alone.

"I came alone, if that's what you're looking for Matt. I might be sixty years old, but I can still handle myself."

"Sixty huh," Matt repeated quickly doing the math in his head. "Elizabeth is only sixteen."

"I know," the sheriff said with a smirk.

"You're old enough to be her grandfather for Christ sakes!"

"Like I said, I can still handle myself."

"Shove it up your ass," Matthew suddenly shot out, unable to control his temper at what was about to transpire.

"Easy Matthew, you didn't talk that way when you had that rope around your neck."

"I should have let you gone through with it. It would have been better than knowing for the last eight years this was going to have to happen."

"Why Matthew. I'm not going to hurt her...well, maybe a little at first, but she'll like it after that. She better since that's going to be her career," the sadistic sheriff said to antagonize his former condemned prisoner. Math was unable to control his anger now and reached across the table and grabbed the man by the shirt, his badge cutting into his hand as he squeezed the bronze emblem.

"I ought to kill you right now and let them lynch me later. It would be worth it you know?"

"I would release me right now Matthew or you will have a bullet in your chest," he said pointing towards the revolver he had pointed at him. "You don't think I planned for such an event. Besides if you die from a bullet,  I will still take your daughter. I assume that's your daughter walking into the dining car now? You would not want her to see her father's death do you?" Matthew held onto his badge for a second longer, contemplating his words, then released him, knowing the sheriff was in control of the situation for the moment.

Matthew turned around in his booth to watch his daughter now walk towards them. In the five minutes that had transpired since he had left her in their stateroom, she seemed to have instantaneously changed from a child into a woman. Of course the clothing the sheriff had chosen for her to wear, helped in that regard, for everything about the outfit was wrong.

It started with the color, a fire engine red number that was as voluptuous as it was revealing. The hemline of the skirt hovered at her knees, while the black lace covered bodice stretched tightly across her freshly developed chest. Her matching black high heeled pumps added a few inches to her already long legs, though it was apparent she was not accustomed to wearing such shoes. She walked with trepidation, not knowing that a lady had to point the toes inward for better balance. Once she had to grip onto a distinguished gentleman when the train lurched as it traversed a bridge and nearly sent her sprawling onto the floor. She apologized immediately, but the man's wife only huffed at her revealing outfit.

"Step away from my husband you tramp."

Elizabeth just shot the woman a look of contempt and then turned to her father and what she assumed was her suitor.

"Honey, I would like to meet the sheriff of Canyon County," he said as both men rose to their feet in respect. Elizabeth dipped into a curtsey for the man even though in her outfit, she was far from looking lady-like. After a round of pleasantries were exchanged, Elizabeth sat down next to her father and whispered to him under her breath.

"Why am I wearing these clothes? I look like a prostitute you know?"

"Because your father didn't tell you much about our arrangement, did he?"

"No, he conveniently left that out I guess."

"Your father wasn't always the most honorable person you know. He robbed a few trains in eighteen ninety six and probably would have continued in that career if I had not apprehended him."

"A train robber?" she asked in shock. "Is that true?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid it is, honey."

"And you traded me for your life...." she deduced.

"He had a rope around my neck. If the horse moved I would have been hung!"

"And I suppose you want me to work in your saloon," she concluded, for in such a small town, everyone knew the sheriff owned the bar and just what transpired with the woman that rented out the basement rooms there. No woman of any respect went in there, even if their drunk husbands were still at the bar. A bouncer tended to such a task.

"For two years."

"Oh, two years," she said in a sarcastic tone, "is that all? Then hang my father then, because that's never going to happen," she said with defiance and spun up out of the booth. She tried to walk as fast as she could back to her room, but her fast paced gait was hindered by her stiletto heeled shoes.

"Stay here," the sheriff warned, his voice and facial expressions radiating dire consequence for failing to follow his orders. "She's mine now?"

Matthew was at an impasse, he started to get up, then spotted the sheriff's revolver pointed in his direction again and sat down abruptly. The sheriff then rushed past, slipping down the length of the train in hot pursuit of his latest passion.

"We had an agreement though Elizabeth. I'm just sorry you had to be the pawn," he said upon reaching her stateroom door. He was speaking through the door, but even as he did, he was fiddling with a key and had the door opened before he was finished with his sentence.

Elizabeth looked up in shock, realizing her escape had only led to her entrapment.

"I'll scream!"

"So scream, you'll be in the throes of passion momentarily anyway," he said and clutched at the bodice of her dress. As Elizabeth tried to maneuver from his grasp, her backward movement pulled the lace tight against her back, then relented with an audible tear. She cried out at the indignation, but the sheriff's hand were already finishing what her evasive movement did not complete. Elizabeth felt completely vulnerable as her breasts spilled out from around the ruined top and landed in his anticipating palms.

There was no reason to try and waste his time trying to seduce such a defiant girl. There was more than one way to break a horse and he knew he had the authority to do it in any way he wished. Now palming her breasts with his hands, Elizabeth pulled back again, not really having a plan in place, but was unwilling to allow the man the pleasure of having her with any ease. Instinctively his hand gripped onto whatever it could, and a cry emanated from her lips as he pinched her right breast savagely. A reddish mark was already developing from the savage grip and yet Elizabeth was not about to yield..

"Elizabeth please, you are not making this any easier for yourself. Relax, submit and it might be enjoyable for you."

"Enjoyable? Your twice my age and old enough to be my father. You're also married aren't you?"

"You'll soon learn Liz, that men and marriage don't amount for much."

"Disgusting pig," she yelled, and instantly she was delivered a hard slap to the side of her face. Her head rolled backwards from the hit, and landed with a thump against the wooden wall of the passenger car. She was instantly stunned, a massive headache began to emanate in her brain as she inadvertently succumbed to her assailant. Elizabeth could no longer feel his hands as he manipulated her body into a position that was more to his likely. She mumbled incoherently from the concussion, but no longer gave him any resistance to his efforts.

She was not sure if it was because she was sexually naive, or if her head injury was more damaging than she thought. Either way, she could not deduce why he was having her bend over the bed, her legs sprawled out splayed out behind her as she lay their motionless for him.

'He couldn't passably be considering putting his manhood in my neither hole,' she thought with confusion taken over her. She could, the sheriff knew, but he had other plans for his latest harlot, and pulled the rest of her tattered dress down her hips, and then off her legs.

"I'll let you keep you stockings and shoes on, but most men will have you take them off," he said,  though it did not register with Elizabeth that he was beginning to train her on her new career.

"Whatever you want," she conceded in her groggy haze.

"Then may I call you Liz?"

"My friends call me Liz," she said losing her defiance from the hard slap he had delivered. She then heard a rustle of fabric at what she assumed was his trousers being pulled down.

"Well Liz, all men, and most women, enjoy this sort of thing, and in due time you will learn to enjoy this as well I'm sure. You'll even be getting paid for it. Not much granted, but enough."

Liz began to get nauseous at the thought. She had seen several of his other saloon girls in town and knew the depth of shame such an occupation brought. They wore skimpy dresses, much shorter and tighter than even the one she wore now, and what vast amounts of skin those whorish outfits did reveal, were peppered with the red tell-tale marks of forbidden kisses. Liz also knew what the drunken men were like that visited the sheriff's establishment. Disorderly, unkempt and quick to strike, were all evil qualities that quickly came to mind. She shuttered at the thought of allowing these men such carnal pleasures.

Granting the overweight and older sheriff the same sexual pleasure caused Elizabeth to cower again in disgust. She turned her aching head in a circle so that she was looking behind her at the image they now created. He had only pushed his pants and bloomers down to his knees, just far enough to complete his business with her, and yet not reveal much of his body for her. As he maneuvered his hands to her back, Liz jumped at his touch, but held herself still in preparation for what was to occur.

"Now just relax a little and I will try and put it inside you as easy as I can. It's your first time so it's still going to hurt though."

"Yes sir."

"And you'll need to be less formal. Men don't want to make love to a lady. They want to make love to a whore, a slut, a harlot. You'll need to talk dirty, moan with pleasure and learn to do things with a man that a married woman would never do."

"Yes sir."

"No Liz, ask for it, beg for it. Tell me you want it inside of you."

"I want to go to bed with you. I want it inside of me. I want to do this," she said so mechanically that it did not sound anything like the truth. Still the sheriff accepted it grudgingly and sauntered his hips up to her loins and positioned his cock between her two lower lips.

"You'll be a natural in a week," he added, then shoved forward, in an instant sending his hardened shaft plunging into Liz with tremendous force.

Liz bit into the top sheet of the feather bed mattress and tried her best to suppress a scream. A low, long groan overtook her as she began to slobber on the mattress, soaking the blanketing with her drool as she felt another thrust sending his cock into her even more.

She was tight and could feel the friction build from too much force and not nearly enough foreplay. He had not even torched her mound, knowing her virgin tightness would appeal even more so to his sadistic personality.

"God I love taking a virgin," he lamented with pride, as if what he was doing to her was a conquest he had done so many times before.   Liz felt cheapened and degraded by such talk, but she did not have the heart to tell him that the hymen he was expecting to hit, no longer existed.

"What the hell," he asked when Liz's tender body had opened up enough for him to be seated fully inside of her vagina?

"I'm not a virgin," she admitted, her voice quivering as she said it. Fear gripped her, not knowing what his reaction was going to be upon hearing the truth.

"Great, you're already a hussy; a harlot; a whore," he said sarcastically, and gave her bare bottom a hard slap in retribution. "You're a God damn Jezebel," he added and began to slam his body into hers; his anger tempering the pain and friction that still prevailed inside her.

Liz began to sob at the indignation and pain she was now experiencing from his grudge rape, and tried in vain to reason with him.

"No sheriff, it was only one man. One time I swear."

"That's what they all say," and then Liz felt him plow into her with even more force.

Under the onslaught of steady pumping, Liz began to slowly slickened inside. It would have occurred faster had their position been more favorable. As it was, she felt like a bitch that was being breed. She could not feel the sheriff in any measurable way. Just the length of his shaft sliding in and out of her, and the steady rhythmic collision of his pelvis onto her ass. There was no cradling of his body as it had been the first time she experienced sex, and certainly no intimacy developed. It was just her body, displayed, positioned and taken.

As his pending release began to well up inside him, the sheriff came to the realization that such impersonalized sex was no way to punish Liz for failing to give him the virginity he had waited eight long years for. He pulled it out of her abruptly and grabbed her by the hair. She screamed out from such rough treatment, but moved under his crude, silent direction and faced him.

"Get on your knees," he demanded as he gritted his teeth and his eyes lit up with animosity.

Liz obediently sank to the floor, realizing from the evil look in his eye, that if she defied him, she would be severely beaten. She was already cowering in fear at that thought, but also cowering in fear of what she had to do next. She had never had a man put his cock into her mouth before, but kneeling as she was now, it was the only scenario that made sense.

"You've probably given men blowjobs too before," he said giving Liz the title of the act she was about to perform.

"No sir. Never."

"You don't lie very good Liz."

"I'm not lying. I have never done this before, but I'm willing too. Just don't hurt me okay?"

"I won't hurt you. Just don't scrape your teeth or I will slap you so hard, your father will wince in pain!"

Liz shook her head in a vigorous no as she formed her lips into a perfect circle and watched him steer his manhood between her teeth. Suddenly the diabolical liaison that was occurring between her and the sheriff took on new proportions. She was no longer turned from him, merely allowing the man to take her, but on her knees and engaged in the ultimate act of submission. She could also see his body now for what it really was: aging and plump, tassels of hair emerging from places hair was never meant to grow.

As her mouth closed around the throbbing shaft, other senses came into sharper focus. She began to smell and taste her own flavorful sex and the musky smell of her new sexual steward. If given a choice she would have refused if only for the deplorable smell of her own sex. Her cream was glazed on his shaft in a thick covering that smelled strongly of fish, while a drop of clear seminal fluid leaked from the head of his penis and onto her tongue. A salty, sticky taste overwhelmed her taste buds just as his heavily veined cock began to slide along the roof of her mouth.

He slid it forward slowly, suspecting that she was indeed telling the truth in that his was the first penis that had been clamped between her lips. But moving forward slowly did not mean he was about to let the young seducer take only a meager portion into her mouth. 'Better to give her trail by fire," he thought as he slid steadily forward down her throat.

"Relax your throat Liz and you can take all of it in."

 He lied, never having a woman complete such a deep maneuver before, but was not about to let her be privy to such information. Fearing for her own safety, Liz tried to accommodate his wishes. She tried to relax her throat between each immersion, feeling it creep further into her mouth with each try.

He never vocalized his satisfaction with her deep throating ability, but as he allowed her to retreat to a more comfortable depth, Liz realized that she was not expected to descend to such depths for the blowjob's entire duration. Instead her womanly instincts kicked in and she began to plunge her mouth up and down over his cock.

It was different than vaginal sex, she concluded, and began to piston her mouth back and forth along his shaft like the two driving pistons that were powering the steam train across the high plains. Their bodies rocked as well to the gyrations of the freshly constructed track, with the occasional sunken cross tie forcing his shaft into her mouth a little to far which caused her to gag.

"Oh my God Liz that feels so good," he said as he looked down at her.

Liz could only nod, making for an erotic sight with her left cheek ballooned out and her nostrils flaring as she tried to suck in much needed oxygen from her nose. She also made little slurping noises, but for an inexperienced courtesan, the sheriff was impressed with her oral stimulation.

Liz had not learned the signs of a man's pending orgasm, and thus was surprised when he suddenly tensed up and grabbed her hair. Pulling her head from his shaft, the man suddenly took matters into his own hands, and started stroking his spit-dampened shaft vigorously. Aiming the tip directly at the bridge of her nose, Liz barely had enough time to react to his manipulations and closed her eyes just in time to feel the first ejaculation splattered across her left cheek. Proceeded by a loud groan, Liz felt the indignation of having several more volley's land as the sheriff indiscriminately used her face as a target. To try and move her head was instinctive, but the man's firm grip on her hair prevented any such avoidance and Liz was forced to wait until the blasts dwindled to an ooze. Only then did he move her head, and that was to bring her lips up to his softening penis.

"Clean it off with your tongue."

Liz nodded her head in silence, but obediently stretched out her tongue and began to lick the white, sticky fluid from the tip of his cock. Her mother would have rolled over in her grave if she knew what slutty transition she had just made, but Liz lapped at his entire length despite her thoughts, and even dipped down to his capture his deflated balls into her mouth for added pleasure. Only after that was completed did Liz look up at the authoritative figure. She knew what he wanted and looked straight into his eyes.

"May I clean off my face now sir?"

"I suppose since you were polite enough to ask," he said, another smirk forming on his face as he looked down at her heart shaped face, splattered now with his sperm.

 

Despite the stern warning, Liz's father was not content to sit idly by while his young daughter was defiled. He had waited as long as his patience allowed him too before he strolled to his stateroom. He tried the doorknob, but found it locked. Putting his ear up to the door, Matthew found that he was already too late. The sheriff was moaning loudly from behind the stout door, and he could clearly hear his daughter pleasuring the man. The distinctive slap of skin on skin could be heard over the din of the traveling train, and with each jostle of the car, a little cry could be heard coming from Liz's lips as he went extra deep.

"God I love taking a virgin," he heard the sheriff brag, and for a brief moment Matthew was vindicated.

"She's not a virgin. I would never let you have that pleasure," he said out loud in defiance. Thankfully he was alone in the train car's hallway aisle so no one heard his statement.

"What the hell," he next heard the sheriff say at this discovery? Then the dreaded words came that Matthew had not predicted.

"Get on your knees," he heard the sheriff demand. There was the sound of movement within the room, then the realization of what his daughter was being asked to do came to him.

"No baby, no," he began to sob as his body gave out, and he slumped down the door until he was seated in the corridor sobbing. He was still sobbing when he heard loud slurps and the occasional lost suction permeate from the small room.

As the sounds of the sheriff ravishing his daughter's mouth resonated through the door, Matthew became overcome with guilt. Guilt for having agreed to the trade eight years before, and guilt for stealing his daughter's virginity the night before so the sheriff could not have the pleasure. He had never anticipated this atrocity however.

"I'm so sorry Honey. I am so very sorry," he said out loud, but as the reality of his daughter's induction into the world of prostitution began to sink in, Matthew began to form a plan. Grabbing a length of rope that was resting between the sleeper car and the dining car, Matthew began to form the coil of rope into a noose, intent on finishing the job on himself that the sheriff was unable to do eight years before.