Dodge City

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Wilbur shuffled through his second most valuable possession: his sheet music. His most valuable possession was the piano on which he played it. Well, Wilbur didn't actually own the piano; it belonged to his employer, The Long Branch Saloon, Dodge City, Kansas, proprietor: Miss Katherine Muldoon. Miss Kitty, as Miss Muldoon was better known, had red hair, and a flaming red Irish temper worthy of her ancestry.

Wilbur selected his piece. "Does your chewing gum lose its flavor …" the tune began. Overhead, wagon wheel kerosene lamps shrouded in smoke offered feeble light. An odd aroma of tobacco, alcohol, sweat, manure and dust pervaded.

The Long Branch Saloon was a combination watering hole, dance hall, gambling house, boarding house and bawdy house all in one. It was home to travelers, cowboys, railroad workers (excluding Chinamen), townfolk and the just plain curious. With all the sin and vice that went on there, one would think that the activities were on the wrong side of the law and one would be right. However being on the wrong side of the law and having the law do something about it are two very different things.

One of the Long Branch's steady customers was the town marshal, a long drink of water known as Matt. Although no one could prove it, there was suspicion that Matt was a partner in the Long Branch and had an understanding with Miss Kitty. In exchange for renewal of the business' license to operate, Matt was paid a "consulting fee."

To his mind, what was good for the economy of the town was good for profits of the Long Branch. What was good for profits of the Long Branch was good for profits for him. So he was determined that the establishment offer goods and services to cater to the needs of, in particular, the young male "tourist." With the addition of some attractive bar girls from "back east" business was not only good, it was downright booming.

Matt was in the back room of the Long Branch going over the books. "Miss Kitty," he yelled, "Get in here. I need you."

Kitty, breasts burgeoning to burst over the top of her bustier, came bustling in. "What is it, Matt? We got a packed house tonight, and I don't have time for this."

"This is business," he grinned, "We can take care of the other thing later."

He waved her over to sit next to him. "I have some questions about your expenses," he went on. "What's this about perfume for your girls?"

"Well heck, Matt. You want my girls to smell pretty, don't you?"

"Come on, Kitty. We're talking cowboys here. They just spent months looking at the ass ends of thousands of cows. They hang out with other cowboys all day, and they probably smell worse than the cows themselves. So all your girls have to do is smell better than a bag full of buffalo dung and they'll smell good enough."

"You don't know a thing about women, do you, Matt?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the perfume isn't for the men; it's for the girls. The girls feel sexier when they wear perfume. And when they feel sexy, they act sexier, and you should appreciate that. That's what gets more customers coming in. And speaking of buffalo dung …"

"Yes?"

"Would it hurt if we ran the boys through the bath house before they get here? Some of my gals are getting sick. It doesn't impress a customer favorably when you throw up on him. It sort of spoils the moment, if you know what I mean."

"You know the more time they spend in the bath house, the less time they spend in the bar … and the key word here is spend."

"Oh Matt, stop being such a tightwad. You can cut lose with the purse strings every now and then," she said, green eyes flashing with anger.

"Tightwad? Is that your tune, missy?"

"What is it with you? It's always about money."

"With me, it's about MAKING money. With you it's about SPENDING money."

Miss Kitty bristled in her full Celtic fury, "There is more to life than money, Matt. How about love? Do you ever think about that? You're awfully quick on the draw. I never met another man who could whip his penis out of his pants as fast as his gun out of his holster. The problem is that in both cases, you get your shot off in a fraction of a second. However, unlike the gun duel, when we make love, you're the one laying down dead after the shootout." By now she was yelling loud enough to be heard outside the door.

"Shh," Matt tried to quiet her.

"Shh! The fuck with 'shh.'" She turned and yelled at the door, "Hey everybody, Matt Dillon is a premature ejaculator!"

Matt grabbed her, and pulled her towards him. She yelled a parting shot at the door, "And he's a masturbator too!"

Before she can get her next shot out, he had her over his lap. She let out an "oomph" as she assumed her position somewhat unwillingly.

He pulled up her dress, and down came her panties.

"Oh Matt, not again," she whimpered.

"Shut up, Kitty. You like it and you know it."

Kitty's spanking, like her screaming moments ago was heard through the door.

end of female domination, femdom story