Sundown Sinners Ch. 16

Chapter Sixteen: The Gallows of an Innocent Man

Boone's room at The Sovereign was a modest accommodation. It had everything a man could need, from the twin-sized bed to the basin of water on the dresser. An outhouse sat in the alley around the back of the wooden building, but it couldn't be smelled or seen from the small window that faced main street.

To be honest, though, I hardly noticed the state of the room as I stumbled in backwards, clutching at the collar of Boone's shirt. I trusted that thick cotton with my entire weight as I yanked him in after me, my knees buckling as I fell onto the mattress.

In seconds, he was on top of me, knees straddling my waist as his lips crashed against my own. I heard the door slam shut. He must have kicked it closed. My head was beginning to spin from the beer, which I would have thought strange, had it not affected me as heavily as it did. Instead of questioning the immediately drunken feeling, I decided to enjoy the ride.

Boone's hands tangled in my hair, my hat lying discarded on the bedpost. I leaned against his touch, my tongue wrestling with his for dominance as my own fingers struggled with the buttons of his shirt. In the end, I yanked on the shirt hard, busting the top button right off. The reverend didn't seem to notice as he yanked my head back, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my throat.

We had stated back in the saloon that there was much to discuss, and indeed, there was. First and foremost, I needed to discuss how hot his body was as he ground his hips against mine. Discussing how hard his cock was... that was very important too.

Boone pushed my hands above my head and held me by my wrists, his lips centimeters from mine.

"How dirty do you want to get?" He panted. His voice was breathy and elated, yet still held some of the care that I had come to know from the circuit preacher. Even his touch was gentle and compassionate, as if he would let go in a moment's notice if I withdrew my consent. Don't get me wrong, there was something inherently hot about being forced into compliance during sex... but there was something entirely more erotic about consent. Everything felt earned. Everything felt intentional.

"Dirty." I answered almost immediately, meeting his eyes. I was sure I looked crazed, my hair sticking out in every direction as my eyes stayed wide and excited. "Show me a different side to you, Reverend. I want to know all of the hot little fantasies you have trapped inside of your head."

Boone grinned down at me before his grip tightened around my wrists. It was slightly more pressure, but he took care in not making it painful.

"Call me Josiah." He whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear as he moved in to nibble at my lobe. "Everyone I fuck gets to call me by my first name."

"How biblical." I teased. He bit harder at the barb, causing me to buck my hips.

"Here's what I want from you," Josiah growled, his voice low and sexy. "I want to tie you up. I want to turn your pleasure into something you have to ask permission for. I want to give you the holy experience of supplication..." With his free hand, he lifted my chin so that our eyes could meet once again.

"Do you want that?" Josiah asked.

I nodded wordlessly, shocked by the boldness of his request. It was so sudden and absurd it almost made me laugh. Or, maybe that was just the booze.

"I need a 'yes'." His voice was hard, like a teacher scolding a lazy student.

"Yes." I whispered. "I want you to tie me up and make me beg, Josiah."

As soon as the words left my lips, I was kissed again. My eyes fluttered shut as he let go of my hands to hold my face. Our lips met again and again, barely giving me time to breathe as I reached for the front of his trousers. I wanted to feel his hard, naked dick.

Josiah reached down, pinning my hands together once again. "You didn't ask for permission." He mumbled.

"Could I please touch you?" I whimpered, gently trying to wiggle my hands out of his grasp. He didn't let me.

"You didn't say the magic word." Josiah busied himself with undoing the buttons of my shirt with his hand that wasn't restraining me. It was honestly impressive the way he disrobed me, as if there was nothing more natural for him than to rid a man of his clothes.

"Please." I huffed. He leaned in and kissed my bare throat, trailing kisses to my collarbone.

"Please what?" His voice was teasing and coy. If it wasn't so hot, it would've been patronizing.

"Please, may I touch your dick?" I asked weakly.

Josiah captured my lips in yet another kiss, letting go of my wrists. I knew this trick. I didn't move, my hands staying locked together in front of me as he stripped off my shirt and fluttered kisses along my jaw.

With a small hum of approval, he nodded.

"Good boy. You can touch me now." He guided my hands to his waist, where I immediately undid the buttons on his trousers. Unlike the good reverend, I wasn't as adept at this task. Though, I had to admit it was getting easier. The more I touched these men and learned just how much power I had at my fingertips, the more I began to enjoy this game. I knew I was here against my will... and yet that didn't seem to matter as much when I was getting my back blown out by a sexy cowboy.

When his dick was finally released from its cloth prison, it twitched excitedly at me. I knew what it wanted. What I wanted was very similar.

I began to jerk off Reverend Josiah Boone, squirming under his touch as he kissed and bit at my nipples, my shirt now lying discarded on the floor beside the bed. The more I made him moan, the more marks the preacher made across my skin. He treated my body like worship, if you would forgive the pun. Every second was spent in a loving devotion to the study of the male body, with lips, fingertips, and tongue.

When I was turned onto my stomach with my arms pulled taut behind my back, I pressed my face into the sheets and panted with delight. Clearly, Josiah was the type of man to take control. He wanted absolute obedience, and that sort of made sense for a priest. In a way, it was still surprising that this was happening at all. Who knew a preacher could be so full of lust?

With a length of twine that seemed to materialize from nowhere, my hands were expertly tied behind my back. I didn't try to struggle against the faint itch of the rope. I simply let him do what he wanted.

Josiah grabbed onto my bonded hands as if they were a handle, pulling my hips back toward him. I thought that he might just fuck me, holding my head down against the mattress as he pounded away at my hips. I wouldn't have minded that sort of forwardness. Instead, however, he took his time in getting me ready.

Josiah spread my cheeks open and whistled at the sight of my hole, which inadvertently caused my cheeks to heat up a bright, embarrassed red.

"Darling, that's the most beautiful ass I've ever seen." He whispered, rubbing my hole almost lovingly. "Remember, you can always tell me to stop." His voice was even lower as he leaned in toward my ear, his finger gently prodding my hole.

"I don't want you to stop." I whined, almost worried that he would leave me like this, naked and tied up in the bed.

"I won't." Josiah laughed quietly. "Unless you tell me to." His finger pushed inside of me and my dick throbbed. The tip of my head seemed to burn, begging to be touched. My balls were so fall my head was beginning to spin.

"Hurry..." I mumbled, unable to hold myself back. "I feel like I'm going to explode."

"We can't have that." Josiah pumped his finger in and out of me with ease. Was I really getting so loose that it was this easy? Then again, my ass was being stretched by dicks nearly the size of my forearm... one finger wouldn't do much to help.

As if reading my thoughts, Josiah thrust in another finger. Then another. I suddenly felt so full that I was almost nauseous, and yet this sick feeling was good as well. Too good. I could get addicted to this feeling of fullness.

"Let's see just how big we can stretch you." Josiah hissed, his three fingers stretching my asshole open without mercy. Was he really going to try to put his whole fist inside of me? Could I handle that? His fourth finger slipped inside of me. I couldn't move, my face pushed against the mattress as sweat dripped down my skin.

"I-I can't handle this..." I stuttered, feeling as if I couldn't take in enough air. I was getting lightheaded.

"You can." Josiah let go of my bound wrists and gently patted my ass. "This is nothing, Elliot. You can take more than this." Despite his words, he seemed to pause as he waited for me to express my approval. I froze too, checking in with my body.

In truth, nothing was hurting. Sure, there was a pressure from being so full. It wasn't especially enjoyable by itself... but the domination aspect that came from being at Josiah's mercy, the aspect of not being able to move as I was stretched open more than I would've previously thought possible... that was really, really hot.

I nodded. "I can do this..." I told him confidently. "Please stretch me out."

And, he did. Josiah thrust his fist inside of me gently, taking his time to inch his first further and further inside of me before slowly pulling it out. I clenched my jaw and allowed his large hand to move its way through me.

"This is so hot..." Josiah mumbled as he retracted his fist from my hole. He leaned back on his knees and spread my cheeks open once again to get a look at my gaping entrance. He whistled low. "Wish I could take a picture of this. It's just... damn."

Josiah's hands gripped my waist and he slowly guided my hips back, lining his dick up with my asshole. Without further ado, he thrust inside of me. I would have expected to not feel it, or to feel it less at least. Instead, my ass seemed to suddenly tighten, clenching around his penis like it was attempting to conform to the shape.

I gasped against the sheets, my wrists tingling and I unintentionally struggled against the rope. There was nowhere I could go. There was nothing I could do. I simply had to stay there, begging for him to fuck me until I couldn't remember a time when his dick wasn't inside of me. And, I did.

We tried out what felt like dozens of positions. First, he pounded into me from behind in doggy style. When he got bored of that, he lifted one of my legs and pounded into me from the side, my high resting over his shoulder as he slowly stroked my dick at a different rhythm from his thrusts. When I was just about to cum, he let go of my twitching penis and pushed me onto my face, lifting my hips until they were above my head before he began to piledrive into my asshole, hitting deeper than before.

I rode him, both facing him and facing the small window that had grown darker and darker as the sun finally set and gave way to night. I let him use my mouth as a sex toy, my head draped over the edge of the bed as he pistoned down my throat, his own lips wrapped around my dick.

When I finally came, it was in a different sort of sixty-nine position, except I was in his arms being held upside down. He thrusted his hips against my face, bobbing his head expertly as his finger rubbed hard against my prostate. When my hips finally bucked for the last time and my cum exploded down his throat, my vision went white.

I didn't even notice when Josiah laid me gently on the bed as I cried out in pleasure. I felt something wet and warm coat my face, and when I could finally see again, I kissed the tip of his wet dick as semen dripped from its head. Josiah collapsed beside me in the bed. I was so tired, I didn't even try to wipe his sperm off of my cheek.

By the time I came to, the sun was just about to rise over the surrounding purple mountains. At some point in the night, Reverend Josiah Boone had cleaned me up and placed me back into my underwear. I was now warm and snuggled up against the side of his naked, sleeping body, wrapped tightly in the covers.

He stirred awake when I tried to get out of bed, his hand gently wrapping around my wrist. It stung slightly. I looked down at my skin in the dim light and cringed at the red, bruised marks and tiny, microscopic abrasions. Rope had its dangers.

"Where are you going?" He mumbled groggily, his eyes still closed as he gently tried to tug me back into bed.

"Going to take a leak." I mumbled.

"What time is it?" He was still holding onto me as he asked.

"Sunrise." I mumbled. Without a helpful HUD clock, that was as much information as I really had. I wondered, would I eventually have to learn to tell time by the position of the sun? Clocks definitely existed in this time period though... had I maybe just missed a pocket watch that I was supposed to collect somewhere? But, even if I had, you'd think there would be extras somewhere. There always were in games, just in case the player missed the first one.

"Shit." Josiah let go of my hand and slowly sat up in the bed, rubbing his head with the back of his large hand. "I got somewhere I need to be."

Memories from last night came flooding back to me in an instant. I cringed as a sharp pain stabbed behind my eyes. It was one fucking beer... but I was definitely hungover. I glanced at my health bar. Surprisingly, it had gone down slightly. That hadn't happened before, even at the House of Fate.

"Your hanging, right?" I mumbled, climbing out of the bed to walk over to the window that faced the street. Unlike the gallows in Deadbranch, the ones in both Hangtown and New Prospect were permanent. These gallows stayed where they were and were only broken down when they got damaged, which meant that they were sturdy, large fixtures made out of thicker logs and planks.

I could just see them from the window, right down at the edge of the main street. It was as if the township of New Prospect wanted to push the thought of death as far away from their developing society as possible. And yet, it was still present. No matter how rich these men got off of their gold and silver, all it took was one mistake to end up at the end of a rope. I shuddered, remembering the itchy tightness of a noose around my neck. I didn't miss it, that was for damn sure.

"What the hell did they put into our drinks last night?" Josiah looked pale, his face beaded in sweat as he stepped beside me. He had found a handkerchief somewhere, which he now used to mop up his forehead.

"I don't know... I feel like shit." I mumbled, leaning slightly against him. Had this been the first time that I spent the night with a man and actually slept beside him after? I guess you could count the House of Fate where I had slept next to Jacks... but that felt different somehow. This was more intimate.

In a way, I could've imagined life was always like this. Me and Reverend Boone, waking up together after a night of ungodly sex, staring out at town as the sun rose into the air.

"I should get ready. I have the room for a few more days if you want to stick around." He turned to look at me and his face softened. His eyes trailed from my shirtless torso to the loose cotton underpants that barely covered my genitals. Josiah's hands snaked forward and around my waist, pulling me in to kiss him gently.

"Do you want me to go with you?" I mumbled against his lips, my own hands landing on his biceps. They were so big... it was hard to tell just how built he was when he wore his long, black coat. Underneath it all, he seemed to be carved from marble. He wasn't exactly an aesthetic, body-builder sort... but he was strong and had definition in all the right places. I gripped his ass, my hands sinking down without me realizing it. Yup... definition in all the right places.

"Would you be comfortable?" Josiah asked. "You don't have to, but I've come to understand that you're also a doctor? You said something about that last night."

I tried to recall telling him anything about me, but my memory was hazy. I could feel last night more than see it. His fist inside of me. His tongue swiping around the head of my penis. My body shuddering in pleasure.

"I don't know if I'm an official one." I yawned, pressing my head against his wide chest.

"Can you declare a man dead?" Josiah seemed to be gaining his strength back by the second.

"I'm pretty sure I can." I wasn't sure if I really wanted to see this hanging, but obviously the game wanted me there. The railroad had bought up the land. The man's crime felt... unreal. Like someone was trying to tell a story that didn't quite make sense.

"Alright." Josiah didn't seem to want to fight me on it. "If you want to come, I won't stop you. There probably isn't time for breakfast, though."

I thought about a body swaying in the wind like a shoe hanging off a powerline and swallowed hard. I doubt I would want to eat anything right now. It might be a while before I wanted to eat anything ever again.

"Let's get to it, then." I answered, letting the reverend go.

It only took twenty minutes for us to pull ourselves together, dress, and head down to the gallows at the end of the street. Despite Josiah's warning, we had stopped for a cup of coffee to settle our hungover stomachs before we finally found ourselves at the bottom of the gallow's staircase.

"I'll leave you here, alright? I have to go and speak with the prisoner, see if he wants his last rights or any comfort. When they start marching, you can climb the dais and stand beside the Sheriff."

I winced slightly at the thought of being so close to a lawman.

"Are you sure that no one here recognizes me?" I asked quietly.

"From Deadbranch? I think they're still using the sketch of Hank Mallory to identify you. I'm pretty sure you're not even a person to them." Josiah straightened my hat and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Remember, you can always leave if you want to. Doctors aren't required if there's a Sheriff or preacher present. Hell, New Prospect might even try to provide their own physician."

I felt my anxiety ebb slightly.

"Okay." I mumbled. "Just come back soon, alright? I wouldn't mind asking that man some questions myself."

Josiah nodded and turned, heading into a building that was much grander and well-built than the shack where I had found myself at the start of this game. As I waited for him to return, dozens of people began to spill into the street, taking their places in front of the ropes as if they were sitting down for a movie. In a way, I guessed this was like some sick form of entertainment for them. I would have been disgusted, had I not seen that most of the people had red eyes or tear tracks staining their faces.

I glanced up at the singular rope that a deputy had begun tying to the large beam. These gallows did not have a drop-away floor or any levers. Instead, there was a stack of wooden stools piled in the corner, along with thick coils of hemp rope. A man stood on the stool, slipped the noose around his neck, and the stool was kicked out from under him. This way would be slower than Deadbranch. I cringed at the thought.

When the prisoner was finally marched in front of the crowd, there was no jeering. No rocks were thrown in his direction. No one smiled, or whispered, or tried to inch forward for a better look at the bound man. Instead, the crowd remained silent and solemn as his face emerged around the corner.

He was a younger man that I would have expected, maybe in his thirties at most. His hair was a wild shade of red that didn't quite match his darker, wild beard. His eyes were a striking shade of green, but they held no tears as walked barefoot along the gravel, his hands bound loosely in front of him with hemp rope. Josiah was at his side, whispering quietly to the prisoner, who didn't quite seem to hear him.

The Sheriff approached me first. He was a shorter man with a tired face. Like that of the rest of the population of New Prospect, he didn't seem to be taking any joy in this task. With one slight nod in my direction, the Sheriff climbed the steps, rubbing at his graying mustache. The prisoner followed behind him. Then Josiah. Then me. The deputies followed me up the gallows steps, their heads down, hats casting dramatic shadows that hid their eyes from view.