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