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Annabelle Maryweather pulled her daughter along the busy train station platform, searching for car number nine. To her, the Great Depression appeared to be a boon to train travel. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere, and going by train. "My Lord, I've never seen Clairmont Station so busy. There it is, Catherine, hurry."

"Mother, we're not late. Please, stop pulling. I can't run in these stupid shoes."

"I want to see you properly settled. This is a big step for a young lady of fifteen, going all the way across the country by herself. Someone will need to look after you, and the Lord will provide. We have to give Him some time, though. I'm sure the good Lord doesn't like being rushed anymore than you do."

"I don't see why I have to have someone looking after me. I can look after myself. I'm not a child, Mother."

"You are a child until I say you're not, or until you have one, and that won't happen until I say. Keep moving your feet, not your mouth."

One minute later, they were inside car nine, looking for compartment six. People crowded the aisle that ran along the right side, going in and coming out of rooms that could accommodate six passengers. Annabelle forced her way along, dragging Catherine behind her. "Here we are." She opened the door, looked in, and saw two men seated in the room. "Excuse me."

She stopped the conductor and said, "I'm afraid there's been a mistake. My fifteen-year-old daughter, Catherine Maryweather, is traveling alone to Sacremento, California. I specifically requested a women's berth. Number six is a man's compartment. That simply won't do."

"Lady, we only have seats on this train. You bought a standard fare ticket. We don't have men's or women's anything, not even rest rooms. She'll be fine, don't worry."

"Well, I beg to differ. My daughter will not be sharing quarters with men for three days. Surely you must have more suitable accommodations for young ladies traveling alone over such distances."

"Lady, number six is suitable. It's not a sleeper, but it does have pull-down racks. We're pulling out in five minutes. I don't have time right now to be shuffling passengers. After we get underway, I'll help her find something better, but one's as good as another if you ask me. People move in and move out all along this line. I could put her with some nuns right now, but they might get off in Pittsburg and the Dillinger gang might take their place. Put her in six."

"Look, we are a good Christian family. You look like a fine Christian man. Would you please take Catherine under you wing, see that she is in good Christian company at all times, check on her often. I'd be so grateful."

"I would, but I leave this line in Pittsburg. Wait, as I recall, there's a reverend in car seven. He's on his way to China or some place like it. He could see her to Sacramento. Try compartment four or five in car seven."

Annabelle turned to Catherine with a smug smile, saying, "See, Catherine, the Lord provides for his own." Turning to the conductor, she said, "Thank you so much. I'll see that the Norfolk & Western recognizes your service. Come, Catherine."

Annabelle peeked in compartment five of car seven and saw five men. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I understand a servant of our Lord Jesus may be in this compartment. Who might that be?"

John Stewart Masterson, alias Gabrial Honeycut, alias Slick Stewart, alias Reverend John Cunnylicker was anything but a servant of the Lord--a servant of the state of New York, Rhode Island, and Texas, yes, if they could get their hands on him. John had a list of charges that covered every offense from child pandering to grand larceny. He stood, doffed his cap, and said, "The Reverend John Cunnylicker, Madam, at your service." The other men chuckled.

"How dare you affront me with that..."

"Madam, my name causes me more embarrassment than you, I assure you. Unfortunately, it is my Christian given name, and the cross I bear. In my family's fatherland, Austria, Cunnylicker is a noble name meaning keepers of the sacrament. Only here is it a profanity. I'm on my way to Asia where I can serve the heathen masses without the snickers. How may I help you?"

"You don't look like a preacher to me."

"I'm traveling incognito. Got my Bible right here." John pulled out a leather-bound King James Bible from his jacket and showed Annabelle the front and back.

Annabelle was only slightly pacified, such an outrageous and profane combination of words she'd never heard. Still, with the conductor yelling, "All Aboard" she had little time for lectures or for listening to family histories. She said, "Will you step out here, please?"

John stepped out and saw Catherine. She looked a vision of feminine loveliness and virgin purity in her finest Sunday dress with fashionable lace-up high heeled ankle boots. Out of habit, he surveyed her young body, liking the package. She looked fourteen, but her body looked sixteen. She had the curves of a voluptuous woman on a small scale--standing five two, in three- inch heels. She had a child-like look, but large blue adult eyes and full red lips without benefit of makeup. Her long, straight, silky, blond hair was tied back with a ribbon matching the wide satin belt on her dress. John tipped his cap to Catherine, smiled, and said, "Reverend John Cunnylicker, servant of our Lord Jesus Christ, at your service."

Catherine giggled. Annabelle wasn't amused. She was especially upset by the way John ran his eyes over Catherine's breasts and legs, even peering behind her to check out her ass. Annabelle shot him an angry look about his visual exam, but said, "Must you use your last name at every opportunity? Wouldn't Reverend John be more appropriate when introducing yourself to a young lady?"

"A Cunnylicker I was born, and a Cunnylicker I'll die. It's the Lord's name for me, and I shan't hide in shame. I am a keeper of the sacrament, and we Cunnylickers are a proud family."

"All Aboard!"

"Oh my! Look, this is my daughter, Catherine Maryweather. She's only fifteen--a minor! She's on her way to Sacremento California, Glory to be exact, traveling alone. We have kinfolk in Glory, and she is to minister to the needy there. She needs the protection of a Christian man, someone who will minister to her needs--her spiritual needs. I beg you look after her, keep her from harm, and guide her along the path of righteousness."

"Madam, I am honored. John Cunnylicker will answer the Lord's call and guide this child as though she were my own. I will have a flock of one, all the way to Glory."

Annabelle leaned in and whispered, "Will you please not say your full name in her presence? I beg you. She may know what that word means. Frankly, I don't think you're a preacher at all, but I've little choice."

John spoke loud and firm, "Who and what I am is between me and my maker. You may choose to believe or not believe. Frankly, I don't give a twit. As a preacher or as a man, I can deliver this child to her destination, but I will tolerate no disobedience. I will gladly undertake that calling, but she'll mind me, or she'll receive harsh and instant retribution. We Cunnylickers tolerate no impudence from young girls. Spare the rod; spoil the child."

Annabelle scowled indignantly, "I'm certain Catherine will give you no cause to discipline. She's been properly raised to mind her elders and has never required corporal discipline. We do not believe in beating our children."

"That may be, but when young girls with sexual hormones flooding their veins get away from strict parental rule, they tend to go wild. I must have your authority to discipline Catherine as I see fit. I do believe in corporal discipline. I believe strongly in it, even for the most minor and seemingly innocent transgressions; and, for young ladies, that discipline should be liberally applied to their naked skin with the hand or a belt as the offense warrants."

"Good Lord, what kind of preacher are you?"

John pulled Catherine's back to his front and held her firmly by the shoulders, pinning her arms tightly to her sides with his knuckles digging into each boob, saying, "I am a preacher who knows how to control young girls like your Catherine. She'll toe a very thin line with me, Mrs. Maryweather. You may rest easy on that score."

"You will not lay one finger on my daughter. Do you understand me? Not one finger!"

"Suit yourself, but she'll be on her own. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Wait!" Annabelle placed her hand on John's shoulder, gently turning him back. John followed the pull in such a way that Annabelle appeared to be bringing him back to Catherine. She quickly drew her hand away, as though John's shoulder burned her. John slid his hands down Catherine's front to her pelvic bones, stooped to bring Catherine's ass tightly to his groin.

Annabelle's distraught eyes followed the man's hands as she implored, "Reverend, please. I beg you in God's name. You are my only hope, unfortunately."

"I must insist you grant me the right to discipline without restrictions or limitations."

"All Aboard. Last call. All visitors must leave the train."

Annabelle's eyes dropped to see the reverend's loins slowly undulating in an obscene grind against her daughter's ass. "Reverend... I..." Annabelle took in the outrageous sight of adult male fingers fanned over Catherine's lower belly, all pointing to her crotch, pulling hard against his own.

"I insist. Unrestricted authority from your lips to her ears."

The train gave a lurch. "Well..." said the reverend,

Annabelle stared hard at Catherine's lower belly, then said, "Oh my." She continued to stare as his fingers massaged their way closer to her daughter's pubic mound, made apparent by the tightly stretched material of her dress. Slowly, with her face burning red, Annabelle's eyes came up to Catherine's eyes. She said, "Catherine, he has my complete trust and authority to administer discipline as he sees fit. Mind him, Catherine."

The Reverend put a harder grind into his pelvic press and said, "On her naked skin."

Annabelle immediately looked down and saw that the reverend's finger tips had moved lower, making the turn over the mound, bunching the material between Catherine's legs. "Oh dear! Oh, all right."

"Tell her! Make it clear to her that I may strip her naked if I think her punishment warrants that."

"Catherine, he has total and unrestricted authority to guide and discipline as he sees fit, even on your naked skin. He may even strip you totally naked for your punishments, so do not give him cause, or I will hold you accountable. Reverend, I will also hold you accountable should there be no cause."

John's right hand firmly cupped Catherine's crotch. His left went up and grasped the surprised girl's right breast, squeezing the firm mound into distortion. Annabelle's jaw dropped as John said, "As you can see, your virgin daughter is in capable hands. I can feel a devil hiding between her legs, but I can beat that devil out of her. Hurry, Annabelle, you're running out of platform."

Annabelle turned to see the station moving. She moved forward, mindless of the two hands still groping her daughter, and said, "Do as he says, Catherine. Any sin will be his. Just pray." She kissed Catherine on the cheek, then rushed to the open door. She hesitated, then jumped awkwardly, missing the end of the platform by inches, falling in a very unladylike end-over tumble in grass and sand. John peered out the window with Catherine and said, "Nice knickers."

Catherine suppressed a giggle, but a stifled gig escaped. She turned to face John when he eased off the firm but exciting hold. She eyed the mysterious man with the mischievous gleam in his eye and decided he was no preacher. She also decided he was quite handsome--tall, dark, rugged, but with nice white teeth that could form a devilish smile, and best of all, he had a very big cock.

She loved the way he stood up to and humiliated her mother. For that, alone, she had warm feelings for him. She liked the way he took control. He examined her like a piece of property, staring at the parts the men back home avoided looking at. She especially liked being firmly touched, molded, squeezed and turned this way and that. She wanted her trip to be an adventure, and the journey was looking good at the start.

After he released her and stepped back, Catherine smiled demurely. The reverend said, "Sorry, kid, I tried to help you out. You didn't appear to want to go on this trip, but your mother obviously was intent of getting rid of you."

"Well, you needn't worry about taking care of me. I can take care of myself."

"I doubt that. This train is full of horny men with nothing to lose. Your naked and abused body would be lying alongside the tracks before this train hit the continental divide. No, your mother left me in charge, and I accepted that responsibility. You're not much better off with me, but I will deliver you in one piece, somewhere. In the mean time, we will try to make this journey as pleasant as possible unless you give me any shit."

"I promise, I won't be any trouble. I certainly won't give you any shit. I will do whatever you say, Reverend John Cunnylicker." The word Cunnylicker rolled off smiling lips.

His smile broadened. "You'd better, or your cute fanny will pay dearly. Is it true you have never had a bare bottom spanking?"

Catherine assumed an affected childlike innocence, and with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, said, "Good heavens, no. That would be horrid. Would you actually bare my bottom and spank me for the most minor and seemingly innocent transgressions?"

"I would, and if I thought you might profit from it, I might bare all of you. Sometimes baring the bottom isn't enough. What do you think of that?"

"I think I shall be very good and do exactly as you say, but innocent transgressions may be my undoing."

"I asked what you thought of that--of baring yourself publicly."

Her expression became serious and critical as she said, "Publicly?"

"Yes, publicly. Humiliation is a key factor in the discipline of young ladies. Females can bear pain much better than males."

"I don't know about that, but I do know about humiliation. Look what I have to wear."

"Catherine, you are evading my question."

"I'm sorry. I think baring myself in public for a beating will be very humiliating, but what choice would I have? My mother gave you the right strip me naked. You must decide where and when. I'm just a little girl who does what she's told, Reverend Cunnylicker."

The train was now well underway, and no one would be getting off. He knew the passageway would be quiet for a while as passengers settled and the conductor checked tickets. John's smile grew more devilish. He said, "What are you wearing under that dress?"

"Petticoats, panties, a bra, stockings, and a slip."

"There's a rest room at the end of the car. Take them off. This train gets hot. Take those boots off, too. You can go bare foot. You'll be more comfortable."

"But, Reverend, this dress can't be worn without under clothes. The material is too sheer. I can put on other clothes. I didn't want to dress up, but mother wanted to make a good first impression."

John took a handful of the hem and examined his fingers through the gauze-like material, satisfied that he could make out his fingerprints. "I said wear the dress, only the dress. Remove the sash, too, then return to the compartment."

"I will do as you say, Reverend, but I will be as good as naked."

"That won't offend anyone in our compartment, and you'll be cool and comfortable. Do as I say, Catherine, or I might bare your cunny and spank it before our fellow passengers just for the entertainment value. A girl like you needs her cunny spanked once in a while, just for good measure. You do know what your cunny is, don't you?"

Catherine blushed. "Yes."

"Show me where your cunny is."

Catherine looked around, then pointed between her legs. "Here."

"I said show me, not point."

"I don't understand."

"You don't understand, show me your cunny. What word don't you understand, Catherine? Are you being impudent with me?"

"You want me to show it to you out here? Someone might come along."

"You are trying my patience, young lady."

Catherine looked both ways, then, with resignation, hiked her skirts and petticoats. She then pulled out her panties so that he could see down them. John looked, but angrily said, "All I see is a hairy crack. I said show me your cunny."

Catherine took a deep breath, then pushed the panties down and stepped free. She lifted her skirts high and jutted out her bare loins."

"You are trying my patience, young lady."

Taking no chances, she sat at John's feet, rolled back, and spread her legs as wide as the cramped space allowed. John got down on one knee and peered between her legs. "Now, use your finger to outline your cunny so that I know that you know exactly where it is."

Breathing heavily, Catherine used her right index finger to trace around her cunt lips, going below the hole and above her clit. "Now show me the clit." She did so by pulling her lips apart and touching the excited nub with her right middle finger. "And show me where a man puts his cock when fucking a cunny?" She pointed to her hole. "Show me where it goes, don't point." She inserted her fingertip and ran it around the inside of her slick hole.

John stood with a smile and said, "Only a wicked girl would know those things, Catherine, but I will drive that wickedness from you before we reach Glory, rest assured. Put your dress down and close your legs, you nasty child. Have you no shame? Run along now. Don't dally."

Catherine blushed and struggled to her feet. She picked up her panties, then ran down the length of the car. She had difficulty undressing in the tight quarters, but eventually stood naked before the floor-length mirror, examining her form. She cupped her full mounds and squeezed, puckering the conical pink nipples. Her right hand stole to her crotch. She ruffled the light covering of pubic curls, then slipped her index finger into the groove, saying, "Miss Cunny, I think you're in for a rough trip. Reverend Cunnylicker just might live up to his name, and his real name might be John Cuntsmacker. I know that doesn't bother you, you shameless hussy, but I'm not sure I'll be leaving this train a virgin. Mother did say we had to do whatever he said, though. We must mind our elders."

She slipped the dress on and studied her reflection. As she figured, her breasts showed through, the dark pink nipples, especially. She pressed the material to her thighs and peered down. "Oh my, they can see you as well, Miss Cunny. Damn, it is true. I may as well be naked. How can he expect me to ride this train with people who can see everything I have? He'll drive them crazy. He'll drive you crazy too, won't he? Don't you drive me crazy. I'm supposed to be an innocent church girl. I'm sure the reverend would rather molest an innocent church girl than a hot-cunted hussy."

She stood and turned to view herself from the rear. "Does he expect me to hide my private parts? Or does he want me to show them off? I would think he wants me to show them off, otherwise why would he order me to wear the dress alone. He knows how thin it is. I think no matter what I do, he'll find fault just so he can discipline me. He sure seemed eager to get me naked. Mother saw that. I'll bet she's fretting now. Serves her right."

She faced front and smoothed the dress to better see her cunt. "I hope he fucks me. Yes, I said fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hope they all fuck me, and I hope they leave me with child. Would you like some company in there Miss Cunny, besides my fingers, that is. You want a real man's cock, don't you, hussy? I know you. You were hoping someone would come along that passage way while I had you out. You like getting out, don't you? I think you'll be getting out a lot more by the looks of things. Who cares? We don't know any of these people, and it's a sure bet none are going to that desolate hole in the wall, Glory. Well, here goes."

John returned to the four men in compartment five, took his seat, and announced, "Gentlemen, fortune has smiled upon us. The good Lord has come through and answered our prayers. We are about to be joined by a vision of loveliness the likes of which you've never seen. She's fifteen, alone in my charge, on her way to Glory, and so are we."

Marve Porter, a middle-aged dry goods clerk on his way to Saint Louis said, "What gives, Reverend?"

"You'll see, but to make this journey interesting, you gentlemen follow my lead. Do any of you have qualms about tickling the fancy of a minor?"

Harvey Greenglass, a reporter going west, sat forward and said, "Not one damn bit, Reverend. You lead, I'll follow."

Blake Edwards, an attorney returning to Indianapolis, said, "Have you been given guardianship?"

"Absolute and unrestricted authorization to guide and discipline as I see fit. The child will verify that."

"If she does, I will support you--in court if need be. I am curious, though, her mother didn't seem the type to grant you the type of liberties you are alluding to."

"Yeah, well her mother has her own kinks. I practically molested the kid right in front of her. She didn't say a word about that, and I dare say I could have slipped the kid some pork and she would have still remained quiet. That bitch is one big bundle of repressed sexuality, just waiting to blow. It's just too bad she didn't come along. I guarantee, this train ride would have proved most interesting."

"Harvey said, "That bitch was finer than frog hair."

John said, "Yeah, and nothing winds my crank like a pious bitch when she cuts loose."

The quiet older man in the black suit said, "I am Judge Krammer of the third district in Denver. I have known women like that; I've had them in my court. I do not doubt that what he says is true. The reverend made his intent clear to the woman. Her silent acceptance was as good as her blessing. I can't afford a scandal, but I support what you gentlemen are up to if I read you correctly. If we all take a solemn vow to support one another, I don't see how anything negative can befall us."

John took out his Bible, held it out, and each man placed a hand on it. "Each of us here swears to abide by my authority over Miss Catherine Maryweather, and will support me in the direction I choose to mold and guide her character. Say amen." They all said, "Amen", then John opened the bible, took out a silver flask, and said, "Now, we seal our oath with a shot of bootleg bourbon whiskey."

The men had a good laugh and a good shot. Shortly afterwards, the door opened slowly, and young Catherine Maryweather entered with her two bags. The men sucked in their collective breaths. John took her ticket from her, stuffed the bags under his seat, then introduced her traveling companions. While she offered her hand, they took liberties with their eyes. John sat, leaving Catherine standing uncomfortably in the center of the small room with her back to the window.

The space between John and the judge was empty, but Catherine waited for John to offer the seat to her. She fought the urge to hold her hands over her crotch, and kept the white knuckled fists stiffly at her sides.

John let his friends study her body, delighted that the mid-shin length dress hid little. Her bare feet were a nice touch as well. He liked the fact that she did not presume she could sit. Her subservient demeanor, standing erect but with eyes downcast, putting her body on display as was clearly his intention, told John he had a kindred spirit in Catherine Maryweather, one with considerable acting ability, a bold and adventuresome spirit, and a mind in tune with his own.

He thought a bold demonstration was in order, but first, there was the matter brought up by the attorney. John said, "A question was raised as to the scope of my authority over you, Catherine. Tell these gentlemen what your mother said before leaving you in my charge."

Catherine appeared reluctant, but softly said, "My mother said that the Reverend Cunnylicker had total authority over me. She said that I was to do anything he said, or I would suffer any discipline he might choose."

Blake Edwards said, "Gentlemen, I suggest we write her statement down, have her sign it, then get each man to sign as witness. I think we should each have a copy to protect ourselves."

Judge Krammer said, "I agree. You never know what outlandish things this child might say about our conduct. People might believe one small girl against five grown men."

Blake took out a pad and pencil, handed them to Catherine, and asked that she write what she said. Catherine did so, then Blake made five copies that each man signed in witness. When that lengthy formality was done, and all were sitting back, admiring Catherine's body, the door opened and the conductor entered, saying, "Tickets."

He took one look at Catherine, then looked to John. The two men exchanged wry smiles. The conductor addressed Catherine, while punching their tickets, "I see your mother found you a suitable chaperon to see you safely and soundly to your destination." He looked around the small room. "You appear to be in excellent hands, so I see no need to be checking on you as your mother requested. It is customary for passengers who don't wish to be disturbed to offer a gratuity. I wasn't sure you gentlemen knew that custom."

John said, "I'm quite familiar with it. Five dollars should cover it."

"Ten."

"Seven-fifty."

The Judge interceded, "Gentlemen, let's not quibble. I'll cover the difference. Everyone pitch in a buck, and I'll put six." The conductor took the money, then went up to Catherine, reached under her dress, cupped her sex, and said, "You have a pleasant journey, sweetlips."

His finger slipped inside her wet pussy, then rode out through her cleft as he departed. The bold contact with her cunt was her first by a foreign finger, and she never felt anything so wickedly delightful. Her mother was obsessive about modesty, and kept her under tight wraps and close scrutiny, being most suspicious of Catherine's own father, a respected elder in the church. The men gawking at her body were the first male eyes to see her intimate flesh, as the conductor raised her dress high in parting.

John resumed. "Catherine, move to the center, facing me, lift your dress and step out wide. Lift it high."

Catherine stood tense, blushing shyly, unsure what her response should be to this outrageous order. No decent girl would follow it without protest. Finally, she said, "Reverend Cunnylicker, I don't think my mother would approve. I think it's bad enough that you made me remove my under garments. She'll be livid when she learns of this, I assure you."

"Are you going to disobey me?"

"Well... no... If you insist, I have no choice. I just want you and these fine gentlemen to know that she didn't have this in mind when she granted unlimited authority."

Blake Edwards said, "Catherine, I am an attorney, and that man is a judge. Unlimited authority has no limits or restrictions. I'm sure the reverend has his reasons for issuing the order, and you are legally obligated to follow them or be punished as he sees fit. I'm afraid we must support the reverend. To do otherwise would place us in jeopardy. He could sue us for contractual infringement, obstruction of authority, corruption of legal guardianship. Those are serious offenses. I am sorry, dear, but for better or worse, this man as good as owns you. If his intentions are not honorable, there's not much anyone can do."

John said, "I'll ask again, are you disobeying my order?"

Catherine took a deep breath, moved into position, and lifted her dress, bunching the material up to the underside of her breasts. She stepped out with her right foot and stood feigning reluctance in offering the men her naked charms from mid-chest down. John said, "My intentions are not honorable, gentlemen, but that should be no concern of yours. You have my permission to examine the girl."

Heads dipped and hands reached out to stroke Catherine's ass, thighs, and belly. After a few seconds, those hands began converging between her legs from front and rear. Her expression registered her sensory overload as a deep red blush. Fingers entered her two holes as she stood and grimaced. John simply sat back and watched her facial expressions go through the gamut from indignation and shock, to acceptance and pleasure.

Catherine could not mask the growing arousal as fingers probed deep in her cunt to feel her hymen. Each man took a turn marveling at her tight, smooth, interior. The comments made her blush deepen, and the fingers made her heart race. John just smiled, thanking his great fortune. After a few more minutes, he said, "Remove the dress completely."

"Reverend, please, not that!"

"Would you like a taste of my belt?"

Catherine removed the dress, and hands swarmed over her breasts.

"Now, while these men get to know the physical you, I think we should explore the rest--your experience and background. Place your hand on this Bible and swear you'll tell the truth in response to my questions."

Annabelle Maryweather pulled her daughter along the busy train station platform, searching for car number nine. To her, the Great Depression appeared to be a boon to train travel. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere, and going by train. "My Lord, I've never seen Clairmont Station so busy. There it is, Catherine, hurry."

"Mother, we're not late. Please, stop pulling. I can't run in these stupid shoes."

"I want to see you properly settled. This is a big step for a young lady of fifteen, going all the way across the country by herself. Someone will need to look after you, and the Lord will provide. We have to give Him some time, though. I'm sure the good Lord doesn't like being rushed anymore than you do."

"I don't see why I have to have someone looking after me. I can look after myself. I'm not a child, Mother."

"You are a child until I say you're not, or until you have one, and that won't happen until I say. Keep moving your feet, not your mouth."

One minute later, they were inside car nine, looking for compartment six. People crowded the aisle that ran along the right side, going in and coming out of rooms that could accommodate six passengers. Annabelle forced her way along, dragging Catherine behind her. "Here we are." She opened the door, looked in, and saw two men seated in the room. "Excuse me."

She stopped the conductor and said, "I'm afraid there's been a mistake. My fifteen-year-old daughter, Catherine Maryweather, is traveling alone to Sacremento, California. I specifically requested a women's berth. Number six is a man's compartment. That simply won't do."

"Lady, we only have seats on this train. You bought a standard fare ticket. We don't have men's or women's anything, not even rest rooms. She'll be fine, don't worry."

"Well, I beg to differ. My daughter will not be sharing quarters with men for three days. Surely you must have more suitable accommodations for young ladies traveling alone over such distances."

"Lady, number six is suitable. It's not a sleeper, but it does have pull-down racks. We're pulling out in five minutes. I don't have time right now to be shuffling passengers. After we get underway, I'll help her find something better, but one's as good as another if you ask me. People move in and move out all along this line. I could put her with some nuns right now, but they might get off in Pittsburg and the Dillinger gang might take their place. Put her in six."

"Look, we are a good Christian family. You look like a fine Christian man. Would you please take Catherine under you wing, see that she is in good Christian company at all times, check on her often. I'd be so grateful."

"I would, but I leave this line in Pittsburg. Wait, as I recall, there's a reverend in car seven. He's on his way to China or some place like it. He could see her to Sacramento. Try compartment four or five in car seven."

Annabelle turned to Catherine with a smug smile, saying, "See, Catherine, the Lord provides for his own." Turning to the conductor, she said, "Thank you so much. I'll see that the Norfolk & Western recognizes your service. Come, Catherine."

Annabelle peeked in compartment five of car seven and saw five men. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I understand a servant of our Lord Jesus may be in this compartment. Who might that be?"

John Stewart Masterson, alias Gabrial Honeycut, alias Slick Stewart, alias Reverend John Cunnylicker was anything but a servant of the Lord--a servant of the state of New York, Rhode Island, and Texas, yes, if they could get their hands on him. John had a list of charges that covered every offense from child pandering to grand larceny. He stood, doffed his cap, and said, "The Reverend John Cunnylicker, Madam, at your service." The other men chuckled.

"How dare you affront me with that..."

"Madam, my name causes me more embarrassment than you, I assure you. Unfortunately, it is my Christian given name, and the cross I bear. In my family's fatherland, Austria, Cunnylicker is a noble name meaning keepers of the sacrament. Only here is it a profanity. I'm on my way to Asia where I can serve the heathen masses without the snickers. How may I help you?"

"You don't look like a preacher to me."

"I'm traveling incognito. Got my Bible right here." John pulled out a leather-bound King James Bible from his jacket and showed Annabelle the front and back.

Annabelle was only slightly pacified, such an outrageous and profane combination of words she'd never heard. Still, with the conductor yelling, "All Aboard" she had little time for lectures or for listening to family histories. She said, "Will you step out here, please?"

John stepped out and saw Catherine. She looked a vision of feminine loveliness and virgin purity in her finest Sunday dress with fashionable lace-up high heeled ankle boots. Out of habit, he surveyed her young body, liking the package. She looked fourteen, but her body looked sixteen. She had the curves of a voluptuous woman on a small scale--standing five two, in three- inch heels. She had a child-like look, but large blue adult eyes and full red lips without benefit of makeup. Her long, straight, silky, blond hair was tied back with a ribbon matching the wide satin belt on her dress. John tipped his cap to Catherine, smiled, and said, "Reverend John Cunnylicker, servant of our Lord Jesus Christ, at your service."

Catherine giggled. Annabelle wasn't amused. She was especially upset by the way John ran his eyes over Catherine's breasts and legs, even peering behind her to check out her ass. Annabelle shot him an angry look about his visual exam, but said, "Must you use your last name at every opportunity? Wouldn't Reverend John be more appropriate when introducing yourself to a young lady?"

"A Cunnylicker I was born, and a Cunnylicker I'll die. It's the Lord's name for me, and I shan't hide in shame. I am a keeper of the sacrament, and we Cunnylickers are a proud family."

"All Aboard!"

"Oh my! Look, this is my daughter, Catherine Maryweather. She's only fifteen--a minor! She's on her way to Sacremento California, Glory to be exact, traveling alone. We have kinfolk in Glory, and she is to minister to the needy there. She needs the protection of a Christian man, someone who will minister to her needs--her spiritual needs. I beg you look after her, keep her from harm, and guide her along the path of righteousness."

"Madam, I am honored. John Cunnylicker will answer the Lord's call and guide this child as though she were my own. I will have a flock of one, all the way to Glory."

Annabelle leaned in and whispered, "Will you please not say your full name in her presence? I beg you. She may know what that word means. Frankly, I don't think you're a preacher at all, but I've little choice."

John spoke loud and firm, "Who and what I am is between me and my maker. You may choose to believe or not believe. Frankly, I don't give a twit. As a preacher or as a man, I can deliver this child to her destination, but I will tolerate no disobedience. I will gladly undertake that calling, but she'll mind me, or she'll receive harsh and instant retribution. We Cunnylickers tolerate no impudence from young girls. Spare the rod; spoil the child."

Annabelle scowled indignantly, "I'm certain Catherine will give you no cause to discipline. She's been properly raised to mind her elders and has never required corporal discipline. We do not believe in beating our children."

"That may be, but when young girls with sexual hormones flooding their veins get away from strict parental rule, they tend to go wild. I must have your authority to discipline Catherine as I see fit. I do believe in corporal discipline. I believe strongly in it, even for the most minor and seemingly innocent transgressions; and, for young ladies, that discipline should be liberally applied to their naked skin with the hand or a belt as the offense warrants."

"Good Lord, what kind of preacher are you?"

John pulled Catherine's back to his front and held her firmly by the shoulders, pinning her arms tightly to her sides with his knuckles digging into each boob, saying, "I am a preacher who knows how to control young girls like your Catherine. She'll toe a very thin line with me, Mrs. Maryweather. You may rest easy on that score."

"You will not lay one finger on my daughter. Do you understand me? Not one finger!"

"Suit yourself, but she'll be on her own. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Wait!" Annabelle placed her hand on John's shoulder, gently turning him back. John followed the pull in such a way that Annabelle appeared to be bringing him back to Catherine. She quickly drew her hand away, as though John's shoulder burned her. John slid his hands down Catherine's front to her pelvic bones, stooped to bring Catherine's ass tightly to his groin.

Annabelle's distraught eyes followed the man's hands as she implored, "Reverend, please. I beg you in God's name. You are my only hope, unfortunately."

"I must insist you grant me the right to discipline without restrictions or limitations."

"All Aboard. Last call. All visitors must leave the train."

Annabelle's eyes dropped to see the reverend's loins slowly undulating in an obscene grind against her daughter's ass. "Reverend... I..." Annabelle took in the outrageous sight of adult male fingers fanned over Catherine's lower belly, all pointing to her crotch, pulling hard against his own.

"I insist. Unrestricted authority from your lips to her ears."

The train gave a lurch. "Well..." said the reverend,

Annabelle stared hard at Catherine's lower belly, then said, "Oh my." She continued to stare as his fingers massaged their way closer to her daughter's pubic mound, made apparent by the tightly stretched material of her dress. Slowly, with her face burning red, Annabelle's eyes came up to Catherine's eyes. She said, "Catherine, he has my complete trust and authority to administer discipline as he sees fit. Mind him, Catherine."

The Reverend put a harder grind into his pelvic press and said, "On her naked skin."

Annabelle immediately looked down and saw that the reverend's finger tips had moved lower, making the turn over the mound, bunching the material between Catherine's legs. "Oh dear! Oh, all right."

"Tell her! Make it clear to her that I may strip her naked if I think her punishment warrants that."

"Catherine, he has total and unrestricted authority to guide and discipline as he sees fit, even on your naked skin. He may even strip you totally naked for your punishments, so do not give him cause, or I will hold you accountable. Reverend, I will also hold you accountable should there be no cause."

John's right hand firmly cupped Catherine's crotch. His left went up and grasped the surprised girl's right breast, squeezing the firm mound into distortion. Annabelle's jaw dropped as John said, "As you can see, your virgin daughter is in capable hands. I can feel a devil hiding between her legs, but I can beat that devil out of her. Hurry, Annabelle, you're running out of platform."

Annabelle turned to see the station moving. She moved forward, mindless of the two hands still groping her daughter, and said, "Do as he says, Catherine. Any sin will be his. Just pray." She kissed Catherine on the cheek, then rushed to the open door. She hesitated, then jumped awkwardly, missing the end of the platform by inches, falling in a very unladylike end-over tumble in grass and sand. John peered out the window with Catherine and said, "Nice knickers."

Catherine suppressed a giggle, but a stifled gig escaped. She turned to face John when he eased off the firm but exciting hold. She eyed the mysterious man with the mischievous gleam in his eye and decided he was no preacher. She also decided he was quite handsome--tall, dark, rugged, but with nice white teeth that could form a devilish smile, and best of all, he had a very big cock.

She loved the way he stood up to and humiliated her mother. For that, alone, she had warm feelings for him. She liked the way he took control. He examined her like a piece of property, staring at the parts the men back home avoided looking at. She especially liked being firmly touched, molded, squeezed and turned this way and that. She wanted her trip to be an adventure, and the journey was looking good at the start.

After he released her and stepped back, Catherine smiled demurely. The reverend said, "Sorry, kid, I tried to help you out. You didn't appear to want to go on this trip, but your mother obviously was intent of getting rid of you."

"Well, you needn't worry about taking care of me. I can take care of myself."

"I doubt that. This train is full of horny men with nothing to lose. Your naked and abused body would be lying alongside the tracks before this train hit the continental divide. No, your mother left me in charge, and I accepted that responsibility. You're not much better off with me, but I will deliver you in one piece, somewhere. In the mean time, we will try to make this journey as pleasant as possible unless you give me any shit."

"I promise, I won't be any trouble. I certainly won't give you any shit. I will do whatever you say, Reverend John Cunnylicker." The word Cunnylicker rolled off smiling lips.

His smile broadened. "You'd better, or your cute fanny will pay dearly. Is it true you have never had a bare bottom spanking?"

Catherine assumed an affected childlike innocence, and with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, said, "Good heavens, no. That would be horrid. Would you actually bare my bottom and spank me for the most minor and seemingly innocent transgressions?"

"I would, and if I thought you might profit from it, I might bare all of you. Sometimes baring the bottom isn't enough. What do you think of that?"

"I think I shall be very good and do exactly as you say, but innocent transgressions may be my undoing."

"I asked what you thought of that--of baring yourself publicly."

Her expression became serious and critical as she said, "Publicly?"

"Yes, publicly. Humiliation is a key factor in the discipline of young ladies. Females can bear pain much better than males."

"I don't know about that, but I do know about humiliation. Look what I have to wear."

"Catherine, you are evading my question."

"I'm sorry. I think baring myself in public for a beating will be very humiliating, but what choice would I have? My mother gave you the right strip me naked. You must decide where and when. I'm just a little girl who does what she's told, Reverend Cunnylicker."

The train was now well underway, and no one would be getting off. He knew the passageway would be quiet for a while as passengers settled and the conductor checked tickets. John's smile grew more devilish. He said, "What are you wearing under that dress?"

"Petticoats, panties, a bra, stockings, and a slip."

"There's a rest room at the end of the car. Take them off. This train gets hot. Take those boots off, too. You can go bare foot. You'll be more comfortable."

"But, Reverend, this dress can't be worn without under clothes. The material is too sheer. I can put on other clothes. I didn't want to dress up, but mother wanted to make a good first impression."

John took a handful of the hem and examined his fingers through the gauze-like material, satisfied that he could make out his fingerprints. "I said wear the dress, only the dress. Remove the sash, too, then return to the compartment."

"I will do as you say, Reverend, but I will be as good as naked."

"That won't offend anyone in our compartment, and you'll be cool and comfortable. Do as I say, Catherine, or I might bare your cunny and spank it before our fellow passengers just for the entertainment value. A girl like you needs her cunny spanked once in a while, just for good measure. You do know what your cunny is, don't you?"

Catherine blushed. "Yes."

"Show me where your cunny is."

Catherine looked around, then pointed between her legs. "Here."

"I said show me, not point."

"I don't understand."

"You don't understand, show me your cunny. What word don't you understand, Catherine? Are you being impudent with me?"

"You want me to show it to you out here? Someone might come along."

"You are trying my patience, young lady."

Catherine looked both ways, then, with resignation, hiked her skirts and petticoats. She then pulled out her panties so that he could see down them. John looked, but angrily said, "All I see is a hairy crack. I said show me your cunny."

Catherine took a deep breath, then pushed the panties down and stepped free. She lifted her skirts high and jutted out her bare loins."

"You are trying my patience, young lady."

Taking no chances, she sat at John's feet, rolled back, and spread her legs as wide as the cramped space allowed. John got down on one knee and peered between her legs. "Now, use your finger to outline your cunny so that I know that you know exactly where it is."

Breathing heavily, Catherine used her right index finger to trace around her cunt lips, going below the hole and above her clit. "Now show me the clit." She did so by pulling her lips apart and touching the excited nub with her right middle finger. "And show me where a man puts his cock when fucking a cunny?" She pointed to her hole. "Show me where it goes, don't point." She inserted her fingertip and ran it around the inside of her slick hole.

John stood with a smile and said, "Only a wicked girl would know those things, Catherine, but I will drive that wickedness from you before we reach Glory, rest assured. Put your dress down and close your legs, you nasty child. Have you no shame? Run along now. Don't dally."

Catherine blushed and struggled to her feet. She picked up her panties, then ran down the length of the car. She had difficulty undressing in the tight quarters, but eventually stood naked before the floor-length mirror, examining her form. She cupped her full mounds and squeezed, puckering the conical pink nipples. Her right hand stole to her crotch. She ruffled the light covering of pubic curls, then slipped her index finger into the groove, saying, "Miss Cunny, I think you're in for a rough trip. Reverend Cunnylicker just might live up to his name, and his real name might be John Cuntsmacker. I know that doesn't bother you, you shameless hussy, but I'm not sure I'll be leaving this train a virgin. Mother did say we had to do whatever he said, though. We must mind our elders."

She slipped the dress on and studied her reflection. As she figured, her breasts showed through, the dark pink nipples, especially. She pressed the material to her thighs and peered down. "Oh my, they can see you as well, Miss Cunny. Damn, it is true. I may as well be naked. How can he expect me to ride this train with people who can see everything I have? He'll drive them crazy. He'll drive you crazy too, won't he? Don't you drive me crazy. I'm supposed to be an innocent church girl. I'm sure the reverend would rather molest an innocent church girl than a hot-cunted hussy."

She stood and turned to view herself from the rear. "Does he expect me to hide my private parts? Or does he want me to show them off? I would think he wants me to show them off, otherwise why would he order me to wear the dress alone. He knows how thin it is. I think no matter what I do, he'll find fault just so he can discipline me. He sure seemed eager to get me naked. Mother saw that. I'll bet she's fretting now. Serves her right."

She faced front and smoothed the dress to better see her cunt. "I hope he fucks me. Yes, I said fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hope they all fuck me, and I hope they leave me with child. Would you like some company in there Miss Cunny, besides my fingers, that is. You want a real man's cock, don't you, hussy? I know you. You were hoping someone would come along that passage way while I had you out. You like getting out, don't you? I think you'll be getting out a lot more by the looks of things. Who cares? We don't know any of these people, and it's a sure bet none are going to that desolate hole in the wall, Glory. Well, here goes."

John returned to the four men in compartment five, took his seat, and announced, "Gentlemen, fortune has smiled upon us. The good Lord has come through and answered our prayers. We are about to be joined by a vision of loveliness the likes of which you've never seen. She's fifteen, alone in my charge, on her way to Glory, and so are we."

Marve Porter, a middle-aged dry goods clerk on his way to Saint Louis said, "What gives, Reverend?"

"You'll see, but to make this journey interesting, you gentlemen follow my lead. Do any of you have qualms about tickling the fancy of a minor?"

Harvey Greenglass, a reporter going west, sat forward and said, "Not one damn bit, Reverend. You lead, I'll follow."

Blake Edwards, an attorney returning to Indianapolis, said, "Have you been given guardianship?"

"Absolute and unrestricted authorization to guide and discipline as I see fit. The child will verify that."

"If she does, I will support you--in court if need be. I am curious, though, her mother didn't seem the type to grant you the type of liberties you are alluding to."

"Yeah, well her mother has her own kinks. I practically molested the kid right in front of her. She didn't say a word about that, and I dare say I could have slipped the kid some pork and she would have still remained quiet. That bitch is one big bundle of repressed sexuality, just waiting to blow. It's just too bad she didn't come along. I guarantee, this train ride would have proved most interesting."

"Harvey said, "That bitch was finer than frog hair."

John said, "Yeah, and nothing winds my crank like a pious bitch when she cuts loose."

The quiet older man in the black suit said, "I am Judge Krammer of the third district in Denver. I have known women like that; I've had them in my court. I do not doubt that what he says is true. The reverend made his intent clear to the woman. Her silent acceptance was as good as her blessing. I can't afford a scandal, but I support what you gentlemen are up to if I read you correctly. If we all take a solemn vow to support one another, I don't see how anything negative can befall us."

John took out his Bible, held it out, and each man placed a hand on it. "Each of us here swears to abide by my authority over Miss Catherine Maryweather, and will support me in the direction I choose to mold and guide her character. Say amen." They all said, "Amen", then John opened the bible, took out a silver flask, and said, "Now, we seal our oath with a shot of bootleg bourbon whiskey."

The men had a good laugh and a good shot. Shortly afterwards, the door opened slowly, and young Catherine Maryweather entered with her two bags. The men sucked in their collective breaths. John took her ticket from her, stuffed the bags under his seat, then introduced her traveling companions. While she offered her hand, they took liberties with their eyes. John sat, leaving Catherine standing uncomfortably in the center of the small room with her back to the window.

The space between John and the judge was empty, but Catherine waited for John to offer the seat to her. She fought the urge to hold her hands over her crotch, and kept the white knuckled fists stiffly at her sides.

John let his friends study her body, delighted that the mid-shin length dress hid little. Her bare feet were a nice touch as well. He liked the fact that she did not presume she could sit. Her subservient demeanor, standing erect but with eyes downcast, putting her body on display as was clearly his intention, told John he had a kindred spirit in Catherine Maryweather, one with considerable acting ability, a bold and adventuresome spirit, and a mind in tune with his own.

He thought a bold demonstration was in order, but first, there was the matter brought up by the attorney. John said, "A question was raised as to the scope of my authority over you, Catherine. Tell these gentlemen what your mother said before leaving you in my charge."

Catherine appeared reluctant, but softly said, "My mother said that the Reverend Cunnylicker had total authority over me. She said that I was to do anything he said, or I would suffer any discipline he might choose."

Blake Edwards said, "Gentlemen, I suggest we write her statement down, have her sign it, then get each man to sign as witness. I think we should each have a copy to protect ourselves."

Judge Krammer said, "I agree. You never know what outlandish things this child might say about our conduct. People might believe one small girl against five grown men."

Blake took out a pad and pencil, handed them to Catherine, and asked that she write what she said. Catherine did so, then Blake made five copies that each man signed in witness. When that lengthy formality was done, and all were sitting back, admiring Catherine's body, the door opened and the conductor entered, saying, "Tickets."

He took one look at Catherine, then looked to John. The two men exchanged wry smiles. The conductor addressed Catherine, while punching their tickets, "I see your mother found you a suitable chaperon to see you safely and soundly to your destination." He looked around the small room. "You appear to be in excellent hands, so I see no need to be checking on you as your mother requested. It is customary for passengers who don't wish to be disturbed to offer a gratuity. I wasn't sure you gentlemen knew that custom."

John said, "I'm quite familiar with it. Five dollars should cover it."

"Ten."

"Seven-fifty."

The Judge interceded, "Gentlemen, let's not quibble. I'll cover the difference. Everyone pitch in a buck, and I'll put six." The conductor took the money, then went up to Catherine, reached under her dress, cupped her sex, and said, "You have a pleasant journey, sweetlips."

His finger slipped inside her wet pussy, then rode out through her cleft as he departed. The bold contact with her cunt was her first by a foreign finger, and she never felt anything so wickedly delightful. Her mother was obsessive about modesty, and kept her under tight wraps and close scrutiny, being most suspicious of Catherine's own father, a respected elder in the church. The men gawking at her body were the first male eyes to see her intimate flesh, as the conductor raised her dress high in parting.

John resumed. "Catherine, move to the center, facing me, lift your dress and step out wide. Lift it high."

Catherine stood tense, blushing shyly, unsure what her response should be to this outrageous order. No decent girl would follow it without protest. Finally, she said, "Reverend Cunnylicker, I don't think my mother would approve. I think it's bad enough that you made me remove my under garments. She'll be livid when she learns of this, I assure you."

"Are you going to disobey me?"

"Well... no... If you insist, I have no choice. I just want you and these fine gentlemen to know that she didn't have this in mind when she granted unlimited authority."

Blake Edwards said, "Catherine, I am an attorney, and that man is a judge. Unlimited authority has no limits or restrictions. I'm sure the reverend has his reasons for issuing the order, and you are legally obligated to follow them or be punished as he sees fit. I'm afraid we must support the reverend. To do otherwise would place us in jeopardy. He could sue us for contractual infringement, obstruction of authority, corruption of legal guardianship. Those are serious offenses. I am sorry, dear, but for better or worse, this man as good as owns you. If his intentions are not honorable, there's not much anyone can do."

John said, "I'll ask again, are you disobeying my order?"

Catherine took a deep breath, moved into position, and lifted her dress, bunching the material up to the underside of her breasts. She stepped out with her right foot and stood feigning reluctance in offering the men her naked charms from mid-chest down. John said, "My intentions are not honorable, gentlemen, but that should be no concern of yours. You have my permission to examine the girl."

Heads dipped and hands reached out to stroke Catherine's ass, thighs, and belly. After a few seconds, those hands began converging between her legs from front and rear. Her expression registered her sensory overload as a deep red blush. Fingers entered her two holes as she stood and grimaced. John simply sat back and watched her facial expressions go through the gamut from indignation and shock, to acceptance and pleasure.

Catherine could not mask the growing arousal as fingers probed deep in her cunt to feel her hymen. Each man took a turn marveling at her tight, smooth, interior. The comments made her blush deepen, and the fingers made her heart race. John just smiled, thanking his great fortune. After a few more minutes, he said, "Remove the dress completely."

"Reverend, please, not that!"

"Would you like a taste of my belt?"

Catherine removed the dress, and hands swarmed over her breasts.

"Now, while these men get to know the physical you, I think we should explore the rest--your experience and background. Place your hand on this Bible and swear you'll tell the truth in response to my questions."

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