Deed to Damnation

The Deed

Warning: This story contains non consensual sex, violence, foul language, domination and submission.

Ire stood over her father's grave, scooping a handful of the dry, dusty dirt and scattered it on top of the simple wooden coffin six feet below. She wiped away one single tear. Her papa had taught her to be tough. She had to be, especially now. With his death, Ireland was left to run the inn by herself.
She was his only child and her mother had went to God years before. That's when he had seen fit to move himself and his daughter to the west where the unsettled land offered a new start. What they found was Solstice, a struggling little town in eastern Wyoming. But within those years of building his inn, there was a boom in people traveling to find their fortunes in this wild country and the little hotel and tavern thrived right along with it.
A cast of characters had come in and out of those doors, some fine, civilized folk, others as shady as a seventy foot oak tree and Ireland was taught how to handle each appropriately. She was taught to turn a blind eye to the high stakes card games. Gambling was frowned upon in conservative Solstice but there were exceptions to every rule, especially when the mayor  had a hand in the pot.
There were strict rules when it came to bringing in whores. Her father was vehement with that rule. He was a devout man that believed the selling of flesh was a sin. There was no exception to that even though some higher town officials pushed back.
"I have a daughter." He told a deputy. "I won't have her subjected to seeing that. She's a woman with higher moral standards and I expect her to see men treating womenfolk with respect."
He did have high standards for Ireland, so high in fact, that he discouraged any suitor that tried to call on her. There had been a few. Ireland had the look of her mother with strawberry blonde hair that turned to light honey in the summer sun to a firey, golden copper when the weather turned cold. Her eyes were light green, the color of spring grass and they lit up when she smiled. Her father saw the way the men looked at her. He had looked at her mother the same way. Lots of men had and it made him leery and protective of his only daughter.
But her father never had to worry about any of that. Ireland had seen enough of what men were about and had no desire to become anyone's wife. Her life was about their family's business and she was proud of what they had built together.
But now Shawn Devereaux was gone, his life extinguished with one lone bullet. The authorities had deemed it an unfortunate accident. It was a stray bullet, probably from a hunter who was either drunk or careless. Her father had been at the well out back when it happened. They said the shot came from the woods and since Shawn Devereaux didn't have any enemies, a tragic mistake was undoubtedly the cause.
The funeral was a short service. Her father wasn't big on fanfare. He was hard nosed and a straight shooter. Everyone in town had showed up though. There was nothing like a good hanging or a good funeral to bring folks together. Ireland didn't speak, letting the pastor say what needed to be said.
Over the next few days she received visitors that offered their condolences. The women brought food and looked at her with pity in their eyes.
"Poor Ireland Devereaux." They would say. "All alone without a man to help her."
She hated that worst of all. There was no reason for it. The last thing she needed was pity, although plenty had been offered. The mayor had stopped by to offer his kind of help in her time of need of course.
"Ms. Devereaux." He greeted her, taking his hat off of his balding head. "I didn't get to speak to you at your daddy's funeral. My sincerest condolences on your loss."
"Thank you, Mayor Saunders." She answered.
She had been sweeping the wooden floors, trying to keep them as clean as possible. The inn was full at the moment and the foot traffic was in full swing.
"Jacob, please." He offered.
"Of course, Mayor." She responded purposely.
Jacob gave an uncomfortable smile and sat down at the bar, trails of sweat dripping down his pudgy face. Ireland could never understand why he was always wearing a stifling suit even when it was high summer. She supposed he thought it made him look important. In reality, it made him look like a sweaty pig.
"You know, running an inn and tavern is really not easy. Especially for a um, a single lady like yourself. I'm just going to get right to the point. I'd like to buy it from you." He offered.
She stopped in mid sweep and turned to face him. He was staring at her earnestly, fidgeting with the brim of his hat. She blew a stray lock of hair out of her face and placed her hand on her hip impatiently.
"I am quite capable of running this place. My father taught me well."
"Ireland, your father...."
"Ms. Devereaux to you." She snapped.
Her papa's body wasn't even cold yet and the vultures were already circling. It infuriated her. She composed herself before speaking.
"The inn is not for sale."
The Mayor slid his plump body from the bar stool and replaced his hat, tipping it thoughtfully in her direction.
"Didn't mean to upset you, ma'am." He grumbled.
Ireland calmed her tone.
"I appreciate your concern." She said softly. "But I'll be fine. I'm a big girl and can take care of myself."
"Well, if you change your mind, I'm here. As a matter of fact, if you decide to sell to me, you can live here free of charge. You can run the place for me."
She narrowed her eyes at the presumptuous statement. How dare he!
"Well considering I own it, I'll see fit how to run it. Starting with those late night card games. My father looked away at them because you were his friends...supposedly." She quipped. "I'm not having any of it. Gambling breeds sin."
His face changed then, a slow, red flush starting at his neck and consuming his loose jowls, spreading right up his cheeks until it disappeared under his hat. He shot her a menacing glare and walked right up to her till he was just inches from her face. She held her ground.
"I was only trying to help you, Ire." He growled, focusing on her mouth.
It was obvious the woman didn't know her place. Shawn Devereaux was a stubborn man and had molded his daughter in his likeness. That would have been fine if he had set up his livelihood back in New York but this was Solstice and the women in this wilderness needed their men. The laws of this land were quite different. A beautiful woman with an attitude was a dangerous thing out here.
"We'll see about that ma'am." He said coldly. "Tell me. Do you have the deed to your place yet? Or is it still at the bank?"
"It's locked in the bank's safe along with his will." She informed him. "I plan on settling any outstanding affairs if there are any. My father owned this inn outright. I know. I kept the books."
Mayor Saunders gave her an odd smirk.
"Very well then." He concluded, tipping his hat again. "I'll tell the boys no poker tonight."
"I appreciate that, Mayor." She returned. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to the linens."
Ireland watched from the dusty windows as Jacob Saunders waddled across the street towards the bank. There was no rush for her to go running over there. Mr. Chambers, the banker, would be bringing the documents over soon enough. She needed to sign the ownership papers to complete the transfer and he would be collecting the quarterly taxes too.