Ben Owen
Copyright© 2025 by Ayra Atkinson
Chapter 3
Western Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Ben Owen, a quiet drifter with a haunted past, finds himself entangled in a frontier town divided by greed, vengeance, and lawlessness. When a ruthless land baron threatens everything he values, Ben must choose between walking away or taking a stand. In a world where justice is scarce and loyalty comes at a price, his fight for redemption may cost him everything.
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual NonConsensual Romantic Slavery Lesbian Fiction Crime Rags To Riches Western Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Anal Sex Violence AI Generated
The warehouse was a cacophony of desperate whispers and shuffling feet. The air was thick with the smell of fear and sweat, a testament to the human cargo stored within. Ben’s heart clenched at the sight of the men, women, and children caged like animals, their eyes wide with terror. He knew that if he didn’t act fast, he would lose his chance to save them and expose the sheriff’s treachery.
He stumbled through the rows of cages, his eyes searching for any sign of the auction’s organizer. Spotting a man with a top hat and a cigar, Ben approached, his steps unsteady. “I ... I’m lookin’ to buy,” he slurred, trying to keep his voice from betraying his true intentions. The man looked him up and down, a sneer on his lips.
“What’s your business here, midget?” he asked, blowing a cloud of smoke into Ben’s face. “You got the coin for our ... entertainment?”
Ben’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. He needed to get closer, to find out when the auction would begin. “Yeah,” he said, trying to sound casual. “I’m Ben Owen, the new pimp in town. Heard you got some fine stock for sale.”
The man in the top hat raised an eyebrow, his cigar bobbing as he studied the little man before him. “Ben Owen, huh?” He took a long draw on his cigar, the tip glowing red in the dim light. “Well, Ben, we do have a few good ones here,” he said, his voice laced with contempt. “But I don’t do business with just anyone. You got the coin to back up that mouth of yours?”
Ben reached into the satchel at his side, his hand wrapping around the cold, reassuring weight of the gold. He pulled out a handful of nuggets and let them clink against the bars of the nearest cage. The woman inside whimpered, her eyes meeting his with a mix of hope and dread. “I got plenty,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m lookin’ for a couple of girls to spice things up at my place. The Madam said you had the best stock around.”
The man in the top hat chuckled, his eyes greedy as they followed the path of the gold. “Ah, so you know your way around,” he said, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Very well, I’ll show you our finest. We have five milfs, just in from the last train. They’re prime stock, fresh and eager to please.”
Ben’s gut twisted at the thought of these women being sold like cattle, but he kept his expression neutral. He followed the man through the warehouse, his eyes scanning the cages for any sign of the sheriff or Black Jack McAllister. The owner stopped in front of a row of cells, each containing a woman who looked like she had seen too much of the world’s cruelty.
“Here they are,” the man said, his voice oily. “Take your pick. They’re all broken in, ready to serve.”
Ben’s eyes fell on a blonde woman, her curves spilling out of a tattered dress that barely contained her ample breasts. She looked up at him with a mix of defiance and despair, her eyes a piercing blue. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he called out, his voice slurred just enough to keep up the ruse.
Goldie ‘Luck’ Wright, 32, pushed herself off the wall of her cage, her breasts bouncing slightly with the effort. She took a tentative step closer, her wrists still bound by the heavy chains that kept her prisoner. “Why do you care?” she spat, her voice a mix of anger and fear.
Ben leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “Just wanna know what I’m biddin’ on, darlin’,” he said, his voice a low drawl. “You gotta have a name if you wanna be bought, don’t ya?”
Goldie ‘Luck’ Wright, the blonde bombshell of the bunch, took a tentative step forward, the chains around her wrists clanking against the bars. Her eyes searched Ben’s, looking for any sign of compassion or a way out. “Name’s Goldie,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I ain’t for sale.”
Ben’s heart clenched at the desperation in her voice. He knew he had to play his part to get closer to the truth. “Now, now,” he said, his voice a mix of lechery and condescension. “You’re in no position to argue, darlin’. Let me just have a little look, make sure you’re worth the coin.”
The man in the top hat laughed, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Go ahead, Ben,” he said, his hand gesturing to the cage. “But be quick about it. We don’t want to keep the other bidders waiting.”
Ben stepped closer to the cage, his heart racing. He had to keep up the facade, had to make it seem like he was just another eager customer. He reached for the padlock, his hand shaking slightly. “Turn around, darlin’,” he told Goldie, his voice gruff. “Let’s make sure you’re in good working order.”
Goldie’s eyes searched his, a spark of hope flickering in their depths. She knew the drill, knew what was expected of her. Slowly, she turned, presenting her back to him. Ben’s stomach turned as he began to unbuckle the leather straps that held her dress together, his mind racing with thoughts of what he was about to do. He had to play the part, had to convince the guards and the owner that he was one of them.
The dress fell away, revealing a back marred by whip marks and bruises. Ben’s hand clenched into a fist, his rage barely contained. He forced himself to breathe evenly, to keep his expression neutral as he reached for the chain that bound her wrists. He had to get her out of here, had to save her from the fate that awaited her.
With a flick of his wrist, the lock clicked open, the chain falling to the ground with a clatter. Goldie stiffened, her eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Just a little inspection,” Ben said, his voice still gruff. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the curve of her hip. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he moved her to face the cage bars, the chains between them clanking softly. “Spread ‘em,” he ordered, his voice low and firm.
Goldie swallowed hard, her body trembling with fear and anticipation. She knew what was coming, had been through this countless times before. She spread her legs, bracing herself for the worst. Ben leaned in, his eyes scanning her intimate area with a practiced eye. The other captives watched with a mix of dread and envy; they knew that Ben’s interest could mean a temporary escape from their own suffering.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small knife. Goldie’s breath hitched in her throat, her eyes going wide with terror. But instead of using it on her, Ben began to cut through the chains that held her to the wall. She couldn’t believe it; was he really going to free her? Or was this some twisted game to break her spirit even further?
“Quiet now,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. “This might sting a bit.” He sliced through the last of the chains, and she felt a sudden weightlessness, a freedom she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. Ben stepped back, his eyes appraising her once more. “You look like you could use a bath,” he said, his voice still gruff. “But I reckon you’ll do.”
The man in the top hat was watching them closely, his eyes narrowed. “Everything to your liking?” he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm. Ben nodded, tucking the knife back into his pocket. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little too eager. “I’ll take her.”
He pointed to the second woman, a blonde with a fiery spirit that seemed to radiate from her very pores. Her name was Beulah ‘the Devil’ Richards, and she was known for her voluptuous figure and sharp tongue. Her eyes blazed with defiance as Ben’s finger hovered over her cage. “What about this one?” he asked, his voice a little too eager. “I’ve got a taste for feisty ones.”
The owner looked surprised but intrigued. “Beulah, huh?” he mused, stroking his chin. “She’s a handful, that one. But she’s got a body that’ll make you forget your own name.” He stepped closer to the cage, his hand reaching out to give her a lewd squeeze. “How about it, Ben?” he leered. “You want to tame the devil herself?”
Ben’s heart raced as he stepped closer to Beulah’s cage. He had to keep up the act, had to convince the owner that he was just another sadistic pimp looking to add to his collection. He grabbed the knife again, his hand shaking slightly as he approached her. “Let’s see what you’ve got, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and predatory.
Beulah glared at him, her eyes full of fire. She knew what was coming, had been through worse. But she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She bared her teeth, snarling like a caged animal. Ben forced a smile, his own heart racing as he reached for the lock on her cage.
The owner watched with a twisted sense of amusement as Ben stepped closer to Beulah. He unbuckled the chains with a flick of his wrist, the sound echoing through the warehouse. Beulah stumbled out, her eyes never leaving Ben’s. He took a step back, giving her space, but keeping the knife close to his side.
“Strip,” he barked, his voice as cold as the steel in his hand. Beulah’s fiery gaze didn’t waver, but she obeyed, her trembling hands moving to the ties of her tattered dress. She knew the drill, knew what he was looking for. With a dramatic flourish, she let the dress fall to the ground, leaving her naked except for the bruises that painted her body like a macabre tapestry.
Ben’s eyes raked over her, his gaze lingering on her full breasts, the nipples standing at attention despite the chill in the air. He stepped closer, the knife still clutched in his hand, and reached out to pinch one of her nipples. She flinched but didn’t make a sound, her eyes still locked on his. He squeezed harder, watching the way her skin flushed with color, the way her pupils dilated with pain and anger.
He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re going to behave for me, aren’t you, Beulah?” he whispered, his voice a mix of threat and promise. “Or do I need to show you what happens to little devils who don’t play nice?”
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded, her jaw clenched tight. Ben stepped back, his hand dropping to his side, the knife hidden again. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with false sweetness.
He turned to the owner, his expression unreadable. “How much for the lot?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the cages filled with desperate souls.
The man in the top hat chuckled, his gaze greedy. “You’re a man who knows what he wants,” he said, stroking his chin. “I’ll give you a special price for taking all three. They’re all prime stock, fresh from the last train heist. You won’t find better anywhere else in Lawless Ridge.”
Ben’s stomach turned at the thought of the innocents being stolen and brought here, but he kept his expression neutral. He had to keep the ruse going. “How much?” he asked, his voice steady despite the rage boiling within him.
The man in the top hat looked Ben up and down, a sneer curling his lips. “You got enough gold to handle all of ‘em?”
Ben nodded, his hand slipping into the satchel at his side, the weight of the gold nuggets reassuring him. He pulled out a small handful, letting them clink together enticingly. “Oh, I got more than enough,” he said, his voice filled with a dangerous confidence. “But I want to make sure I’m getting my money’s worth.”
The owner’s eyes lit up at the sight of the gold, and he waved a hand at one of the guards. “Bring out Catherine ‘Trigger Finger’ Beck,” he ordered, his voice a sickening blend of glee and malice. “Let’s see if she’s as quick on the draw as her reputation suggests.”
Ben watched as the guard approached the last cage, the one at the end of the row. Catherine ‘Trigger Finger’ Beck, a brunette with a sharp gaze and a lean, muscular body, stepped out with surprising grace. Despite the chains that bound her wrists and ankles, she moved with the confidence of a predator, her eyes never leaving Ben’s.
Her name was whispered with a mix of fear and awe in the town’s underbelly. It was said that she could shoot the wings off a fly with a pistol blindfolded, and that she had once shot a man in the heart just for looking at her the wrong way. Ben knew that she was trouble, but he also knew that she could be a valuable asset in his plan.
He stepped closer to Catherine’s cage, his eyes traveling up and down her lithe body with a hunger that had nothing to do with lust. “Let’s see what you’ve got, darlin’,” he said, his voice a low purr. He reached for the lock, his heart racing as he worked to keep his trembling hand steady. The lock clicked open, and the chains fell away, revealing her bare form to the cold, unforgiving light.
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