Ben Owen
Copyright© 2025 by Ayra Atkinson
Chapter 38
Western Sex Story: Chapter 38 - 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 sun had barely crested the horizon when Sly, Ben, Beulah and Lois made their way to Lady Hendrix’s mansion. The grandeur of the place was unmistakable, even in the early light—its ivy-covered walls and ornate windows whispering of wealth and secrets. They approached the grand entrance, the heavy oak door standing as an imposing sentinel to the turmoil within.
Inside, they found Lady Hendrix, a regal woman with auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, wearing a silk dressing gown that clung to her curves. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face a mask of despair as she clutched a handkerchief to her nose. “My gold,” she sobbed, “it’s all gone!” The opulent room was a mess, drawers pulled out, jewelry cases overturned—evidence of a hasty, desperate search.
Sly stepped forward, his voice firm and authoritative. “Ma’am, you should come with us. We suspect Mr. Skinner is been ... liberating items from the town’s wealthier residents.”
Lady Hendrix’s eyes flashed with anger. “That snake,” she hissed. “He promised to entertain the town, not to rob us blind!”
Her words were a call to action, and Ben and Sly knew they had to act quickly. They escorted her to her carriage, the plush velvet seats a stark contrast to the dusty streets of Lawless Ridge. As the horses clopped along, the early morning light cast long shadows across the town, hinting at the secrets that lay hidden beneath the surface.
The circus, usually bustling with activity by this time, was eerily quiet. The colorful tents stood tall and proud, their silent flaps whispering secrets in the morning breeze. The sheriffs and their unlikely companions made their way to the grand tent.
Inside, Beulah and Lois led the way to Mr. Skinner’s private quarter. The flap was slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to cut through the darkness. They could hear the rhythmic snores of a man deep in slumber—Mr. Skinner.
They pushed the flap open with bated breath and found him sprawled on the floor, the wooden box lying open beside him. He was surrounded by gold coins and glittering jewels, his hands still clutching a handful of treasure, even in his sleep. His greed was laid bare, a stark testament to the crime that had taken root in the heart of Lawless Ridge.
Lady Hendrix stepped forward, her eyes blazing with anger and betrayal. She pointed at the gold scattered around the room. “That’s mine!” she spat. “And the jewels ... they were my mother’s!”
Her hand trembled as she picked up a gold coin, the engraving of a proud eagle stark against the candlelight. Her voice cracked with emotion as she spoke. “My family’s legacy, stolen by this ... this ... monster!”
Mr. Skinner stirred, his eyes snapping open to find himself surrounded by accusatory glares and the gleaming barrels of their weapons. He blinked sleep from his eyes, his face contorting from surprise to rage in an instant. “What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed, his face turning a dark shade of purple.
“You know exactly what this is,” Ben said, his voice cold and hard as the steel of his Colt. “You’ve been stealing from the people of Lawless Ridge.”
Mr. Skinner scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape or a weapon. But the women had anticipated his move and blocked the only exit. He was trapped, and he knew it.
“You won’t get away with this,” he snarled, his voice thick with malice.
“We’re not planning on it,” Sly said with a smirk, his hand on the butt of his gun.
With no escape in sight, Mr. Skinner’s bluster dissipated like a storm cloud. He glared at Ben and Sly, his eyes flicking between their faces. The burly man looked equally cornered, his fists clenched and his nostrils flaring.
“Alright,” Mr. Skinner said through gritted teeth. “Let’s get this over with.”
The group marched out of the tent, the monkey skittering along behind Mr. Skinner’s heels, as if it knew its master’s fate was sealed. The burly man, his hands bound tightly with rope, had the look of a man who had realized the jig was up. The wooden box, now a symbol of their crimes, was carried by Sly with the same disdain one might reserve for a sack of rotting meat.
Once in the sheriff’s office, Mr. Skinner’s bravado disappeared like a candle in the wind. The room was small and stuffy, the walls lined with wanted posters and the smell of sweat and fear—a stark contrast to the opulence of Lady Hendrix’s mansion. Ben and Sly sat behind the desk, their eyes boring into Mr. Skinner as he was shoved into a chair.
The ringmaster looked around wildly, his eyes darting from one face to the next. His accomplice was nowhere to be seen, having fled in the chaos. The monkey sat on the desk, watching him with a knowing glint in its eye. It was as if the creature understood the gravity of the situation and was enjoying the irony of its master’s downfall.
“You think you’re so clever,” Ben said, his voice a low growl. “Using that poor animal to do your dirty work.”
Mr. Skinner’s eyes darted around the room, looking for a way out. But the walls were closing in, and he knew it. “I had no choice,” he said, his voice a whine. “We’ve been doin’ this for months. The gold, the jewels ... we needed it to keep the circus afloat.”
“And the monkey?” Beulah asked, her voice like a whip crack. “Was it just part of the act?”
Skinner’s shoulders slumped. “No,” he admitted. “He was ... trained. For this purpose.”
The room was silent, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, a relentless metronome counting down the seconds of his freedom.
“I know the towns,” he blurted out. “We’ve hit ‘em all. Dustbowl, Coyote Creek, even Silver Springs. We’d roll in, all smiles and fun, and then, when everyone’s asleep, he’d do his thing.” He jerked his head towards the monkey, who sat on the desk, watching him with beady eyes.
“And what of the people you’ve hurt?” Sly asked, his voice calm but deadly.
Skinner’s gaze fell to the floor. “They were ... collateral,” he murmured. “We never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
Lady Hendrix’s face was a mask of fury. “Collateral?” she spat. “My gold, my jewels, stolen by a circus trickster and a thieving ape!”
The tension in the room was palpable, thick as the dust that coated the floorboards. The monkey chittered, sensing the anger, and scurried away into a corner.
Sly open the wooden box, revealing the treasure trove within. The sight of the gold and jewels, piled high, glinting in the early morning light, was enough to make even the hardest of men weep.
Lady Hendrix stepped forward, her eyes shining with tears of relief and anger. “This is mine,” she said, her voice shaking. “All of it.”
Ben shook his head. “We’ll return it to its rightful owners,” he said. “And you, Mr. Skinner, will be going to jail in Crookedhill Fort court.”
Skinner’s eyes widened in panic. “But what about the circus?”
“It’s over,” Sly said, his voice final. “Your days of trickery and theft are done.”
Mr. Skinner’s eyes grew wide with panic. “You can’t do this!” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “If I go to jail, what’ll happen to my circus? The crew, the artists ... they’re all innocent!”
Sly leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the ringmaster. “We’re not here to run a charity,” he said, his tone unyielding. “You’ve been a cancer on this town, and we’re cutting you out.”
“But the circus is all they have!” Skinner’s desperation was palpable. “They’re just trying to survive! They don’t know about the gold, I swear!”
Sly’s expression was unyielding. “That may be true,” he said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been using them as unwitting accomplices to your crimes.”
Mr. Skinner’s face crumpled, his eyes brimming with tears. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “They’re good people. They have families to feed, mouths to feed. If the circus folds, they’ll have nowhere to go.”
Beulah stepped forward, her eyes softening slightly. “We’re not heartless,” she said. “We understand that not everyone in your circus is guilty. But the thefts have to stop.”
Ben stepped closer, her anger fading into something akin to pity. “Perhaps,” he said, her voice softer now, “we can come to an arrangement.”
Mr. Skinner’s eyes lit up with hope. “Anything,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything.”
Ben considered him for a long moment before speaking. “I will ask you one question,” he said, his voice measured. “How much you will sell the circus?”
Skinner’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
“You heard me,” Ben said, his voice firm. “I’m willing to buy your circus. The tents, the caravan, and all the equipment and supplies. It’s a fair deal, considering the damage you’ve done to this town.”
Mr. Skinner looked up at Ben, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for a way out of the corner he’d painted himself into. “But ... but what about the crew, the performers?”
“They’re free to stay or leave,” Ben said, his voice firm but not unkind. “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of, but the circus stays in Lawless Ridge. It’ll be a reminder of what happens to those who cross us.”
Skinner gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “How much?” he managed to croak out.
“We’ll settle on a price later,” Ben said, his gaze unwavering. He turn to Beulah and ask her to take Goldie with their sack of gold to find him in the office now.
Beulah nodded firmly. “Understood, Sheriff.”
Lois squeezed her hand before letting go. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” she murmured, her voice low and menacing.
Beulah nodded, her heart racing with the gravity of their mission. She slipped out of the tent, the cool morning air a stark contrast to the tension inside. The sun was a fiery orb rising over the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold. The Golden Ranch’s main house stood tall and proud, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of the town.
As she approached, she saw Goldie, her blonde hair fluttering in the breeze, standing on the porch with a quarter sack of gold. “Goldie, we need to find Ben. Now” she called out, her voice urgent but hushed. “And take the sack of gold with you.”
Their boots crunched on the gravel as she made her way to the sheriff’s office, the sack of gold feeling heavier with each step. The early morning light cast long shadows that danced along the dirt streets, as if the town itself was holding its breath, waiting for the outcome of their confrontation with Mr. Skinner.
When Goldie reached the office, Ben, her husband, was already there, her eyes wide with concern. “What happened, Ben?” she asked Ben, her voice a whisper.
“We’ve got Mr. Skinner,” Ben said, his voice tight with tension. “But we’ve got a bigger problem. He’s been robbing not just us, but other towns too. And he’s been using that monkey of his to do it.”
Goldie’s eyes grew wide with shock. “The poor creature,” she murmured, stroking the gold coins in the sack with trembling fingers. “What do we do now?”
Ben leaned against the desk, his eyes thoughtful. “We’re going to make him an offer he can’t refuse,” he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m going to buy his circus, lock, stock, and barrel.”
Goldie’s eyes widened. “You what?” she exclaimed.
Ben nodded, his expression unwavering. “I’m going to buy the circus,” he repeated, his voice firm. “Everything. The tents, the wagons, the whole shebang.”
Goldie’s shock gave way to a flicker of understanding. “And the people?” she asked, her voice gentle.
“They can stay or go,” Ben said, his voice firm but not unkind. “But the circus stays. It’ll be a symbol of what we’re building here—something good from the ashes of what was bad.”
Goldie remained silent for a long moment, her eyes searching Ben’s face. Then, with a slow nod, she handed over the sack of gold. “I trust you,” she murmured.
Ben took the sack, feeling the weight of the coins and the gravity of his decision. “Thank you, Goldie,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion.
Turning to Mr. Skinner, he placed the sack of gold on the desk with a thud. “Now, let’s talk,” he said, his eyes never leaving the ringmaster’s desperate gaze. “I’m willing to trade your circus for this gold. It’s a fair price, considering the trouble you’ve caused.”
Skinner’s eyes darted to the gold, greed warring with fear. “But what about me?” he squeaked.
“You’ll stay on the jail,” Sly said, his voice as hard as nails. “As I said before, you will be taken to the Crookedhill Fort court. I’ve send telegram and the army soldiers will come at afternoon,”
Mr. Skinner’s hope deflated like a popped balloon. “But what about the circus?” he pleaded, his voice trembling. “The performers, the animals ... they need me!”
“They’ll be fine,” Ben said, his voice firm but not unkind. “I’ll find someone to run it. Someone who doesn’t use it as a front for crime.”
Mr. Skinner’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Alright,” he whispered. “You win.”