



                        THE STAIN

                            by

                       Joe Whatever



It was 5 o'clock on a lazy Friday afternoon, and the great Hall of 
Justice was all but deserted.  Rachel scanned the great rotunda 
and verified that she was alone before moving in for a closer look. 
The large vaulting horse was situated in the middle of the rotunda 
atop the seal of justice inlaid into the marble floor.  The horse 
and the leather straps that held the victim were sturdy, but Rachel 
did not notice the workmanship.

She examined the stain.

Legend said that a voodoo priestess had rubbed a special potion -- 
an aphrodisiac -- on the end of the horse.  It was supposed to 
drive any woman straddling the horse into an uncontrollable sexual 
frenzy.  

For nearly 200 years, strumpets had been rubbing their juices into 
the horse, and their combined exertions had left the leather on 
the end of the horse with a dark and mysterious stain.  Rachel had 
seen dozens of slave women and female criminals whipped over the 
bench.  Each of the shameless whores had humped the leather like 
a bitch in heat.

Conventional wisdom held that the slaves and prostitutes "juiced" 
themselves during their whippings because of their wanton and 
lascivious natures.  No decent woman would perform that way in 
public.

But Elizabeth Richards had recently changed the conventional wisdom.

Elizabeth's father had made his fortune from his sugar plantation, 
but that did nothing to lessen Elizabeth's opposition to slavery.  
When the beautiful aristocrat blatantly delivered her "Proclamation 
of Freedom" to the colonial governor, the courts took action.  
For the first time ever, a woman of quality was sentenced to "ride 
the horse."

She was initially allowed to keep her drawers on.  But, as the 
evil potion soaked through the dainty fabric, she began to squirm 
and twist and moan.  After her shamefully wet drawers were 
removed, she rubbed her blatantly exposed femininity even more 
vigorously against the dark leather.

The whip meant little to Elizabeth; if anything, it seemed to 
spur her on.  She had bucked and squirmed and twisted.  She had 
shown every man in the rotunda her sopping wet sex and her rear 
hole.  Rachel had watched in amazement as the demure and modest 
Elizabeth Richards orgasmed repeatedly in front of all her friends. 
Rachel herself felt a disturbing tingle as she ran her hand over 
the darkly stained leather.

The whipping had been bad enough.  But now Elizabeth's most 
intimate juices had been mixed in with those of every other 
disgusting trollop who had ever ridden the horse.  The dark 
stain of Elizabeth's shame would be displayed in the rotunda 
forever.  

Rachel walked across the rotunda and slipped a letter under the 
governor's door.  Though she was apolitical, her letter demanded 
freedom for every slave in the colony.  

She knew that the scandalous document would stain her family's 
honor.  But that wasn't the stain she was thinking about.



Edited by C. Lakewood

