Chapter 2: Her Lies

Celia's good looks did not escape the notice of Tommy Hayes, a rugged young cowboy who often went out on long cattle drives and ended up back in the city of Cheyenne. Each time Tommy returned from the trail, he could hardly wait to see Celia.

It didn't seem to bother Tommy that Celia was a whore. He had always been shy when it came to women. But with Celia, he could talk to her and she listened. There was something special about Celia. Tommy worried about her because she worked for one of the most formidable brothel owners in all of Cheyenne, Maxwell Hastings, who was known far and wide for his brutality. Everyone feared him, including Tommy.

Tommy wasn't experienced with sex. Whenever he looked at Celia his cock would become rigid from the mere sight of her and as soon as he was inside of her, he couldn't help but instantly explode.

Celia found Tommy's shyness and inexperience endearing. She looked forward to every hour she could spend with him. But Max was becoming increasingly possessive. Max could hardly tolerate Celia being with anyone aside from himself.

Max put his hand firmly on Celia's shoulder, "turn around," he commanded. She closed her eyes and slowly turned to face him. He slapped her as hard as he could with his open hand. "I've had enough of your lies Ceel."

A tear rolled down her cheek and fell to the floor. "I'm sorry Max," was her whispered response.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Max said bitterly. "This is the last time you'll ever lie to me," he said fingering the razor strop.

"No please Max, not the razor strop, my daddy..." she was unable to finish her sentence.

"I know all about your daddy and how he used the strop to keep you in line. I wouldn't use it on you unless you deserved it." Max snarled wickedly, putting his finger under her chin and looking darkly into her eyes. "Bend over Celia and take your punishment like a good girl."

Celia's knees collapsed beneath her and she fell to the floor in front of him, gripping his legs "Please Max," her pleas came out in a choked and shaky voice, "Please don't beat me."

Most men would have melted at the site of Celia on her knees begging for mercy, but not Max. Her behavior only made Max angrier. He reached down and gripped her shoulders, pulling her to her feet and looking her straight in the eye. "You know better than beg!" He snapped.

She started to cry silent tears because she couldn't hold them back any longer. He released his grip on her shoulders and she slowly turned around. She leaned forward and gripped either side of the wooden chair that had been placed in the middle of the room.

She felt her bloomers fall to the floor with the help of Max's rough hands and she stood there before Max, helpless and bare from the waist down, with her breasts hanging out the front of her chemise.

"This better be the last time I have to remind you not to lie!" Max said angrily as he raised the strop high in the air bringing it down with great force against her delicate bare flesh.

She bit her lip and squirmed. Max knew it upset her more than normal when he used the strop, because her own father had beaten her so often with it.

Her tears began to flow freely, they couldn't be stopped.

Max hit her repeatedly with the thick, stiff, leather strop as hard as he could and watched her delicate bottom turn from a bright pink to a deepening red, with splotches of purple. There was no doubt about it, the strop left wicked looking marks, and Celia would be bruised for days.

Celia couldn't stand the pain and she let go of the chair after eight smacks and fell to her knees sobbing in agony, unable to stay in place.

"Celia!" Max said sharply.

Celia willed herself to stand, but she couldn't seem to find it in her. She was shaking too badly and her legs felt like jelly. "Please Max," she pleaded.

Max's anger was increasing by the moment. He wanted to be obeyed. He grabbed her long blonde hair and yanked her up into a standing position, grasping her hair tightly in his hand, his hot whiskey breath in her ear. "You fuckin' know better than to move out of place!" He scolded. "You're going to pay dearly!" He yanked so hard on her hair she could hardly breathe.

He forced her back over the chair with her bare bottom sticking out. Her hands pressed roughly into place. "Move out of place again and I'll tie you to the bed and whip you black and blue from head to toe, including that delicate pussy of yours."

Celia shook with fear. "You better not move," he hissed and took the ball of his boot and stepped lightly on her bare toes to send her a clear message.

Celia sobbed. "Please Max."

"You know better than to beg!" Max abruptly took a large handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it into her mouth. She coughed and gagged as the handkerchief filled her throat. Then he grabbed another large hanky and tied it firmly in place around her mouth so that the first handkerchief wouldn't fall out. "You're going to pay," he hissed angrily.

Celia's face was wet with tears. She closed her eyes as he drew the strop back and began again. Her cries of distress were stifled by the handkerchief.

"You lying little bitch," Max hissed angrily. "I'll teach you!" He raised the strop high and struck her repeatedly.

Celia's knuckles were white as she gripped the chair for all she was worth, worried he would beat her worse if she moved again. She had not felt his wrath like this in a long time.