<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/7e/Ginny_07a.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Virginia 'Ginny' Mary Lou Whateley<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Whateley Family<br/><strong>Date:</strong>July 18th, 1874 (Two years before game start.)<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Late Evening, One hour later<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Basement of the Sheriff's Office<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Closed, John Templeton<br/><hr/><br/>Yep, this was definitely the fire.  She hadn't realized it from a first look, but Townsend was mighty strong if his grip was anything to go by.  A pained, choked gasp escaped Ginny's lips as he seized her by the jaw and began to squeeze even as her bare feet scrabbled against the cold floor.  She tried to find some purchase to push back against him, but there was no good place to dig in.  This close and she could smell him, the scent of the cigarillos and male musk invading her personal space as the cuffs holding her hands above her head clinked and clanked against at the beam.  The steel bit into her wrists, digging into the tender flesh cruelly as she bit her lip to stop from crying out.<br/><br/>Ironically, his smell was not unfamiliar to Miss Whateley, who spent the better part of her days in the saloons and at the poker tables.  No, Townsend smelled a good bit like a number of the other men she was around.  Truth be told, he smelled better than a lot of them; a ungodly number were also miners and rougher sorts that came in from the Maze.  The types that only bathed when it rained.  In fact, it was that familiar scent that helped her stay calm, helped her pounding heart from really racing out of control.  Though it did start to pound as she felt him begin to tighten his grip on her jaw even as her ears, heightened by the rush of terror in her, caught the sound of his belt sliding free.<br/><br/>And as he made his offer, her blood ran cold.  He wasn't serious, was he?<strong>"....ssttuupp..."</strong>Ginny slurred out weakly in pain even as she felt him increase the pressure on her jaw.  Did he intend to break it?  The barbarism of the action shook her to the core a little.  Oddly enough, all she could think about was how difficult it would be to get married if he marred her face.  The whole scenario still seemed a little surreal and the pounding in her head didn't help at all.<br/><br/>Didn't he know who she was?  Admittedly, it was a rhetorical question; John Templeton knew she was a Whateley and that fact didn't seem to intimidate him.  The belt though?  What did he mean to do?  Though he was firmly in control of her jaw and consequently how much she could see, Ginny managed to catch the sight of the strip of leather doubled up for a brief moment.  It reminded her of the one and only time she had been spanked by her father, Jebediah.  Ginny didn't even remember the circumstance or situation; she had been quite young at the time.  But he had her bend over and grab her ankles where he had slipped off his belt and doubled it over before giving it a sharp snap.  And then, he had dealt three whopping blows, which had Ginny bawling bloody murder by the end of the first stroke as the leather had cracked her behind.<br/><br/>But the thought that he might beat her didn't make much sense.  After all, her current position wasn't one for a spanking.  And she was far too old to be spanked like she was a spoiled little brat!  Ginny had long outgrown those sort of things.  But what did it mean?  Did he intend a raping?  That thought was even more bothersome to the young Whateley.  Here?  In this cold place?  He'd hang!  There was no way that he could really be thinking what he was thinking!  And tossing her in the tank with the miners?  That was an even more ridiculous notion.  No, it was like he was trying to scare her and doing a damned good job of it.<br/><br/>Really, she couldn't imagine him going unpunished for his actions.<em>"Think, Ginny!  Think!"</em>she scolded herself, trying to treat this like a hand of poker.  Was he bluffing?  Or not?  Did she fold? Or did she raise?  But before she could decide, Townsend raised the stakes again.  Ginny cried out as she was slapped across the face as her head pitched to the side, her golden tresses flying all around.  Then, her jaw was grabbed again as it was obvious that her sassy wit had not been appreciated.<br/><br/>Then, all attempts at rational thought and analysis went out of the window as Townsend released her aching jaw as she hung there, trying her best not to cry, as he reached inside her chemise to roughly fondle at her.  It seemed as if it was a raping he intended.  And at his lecherous smile, she shrank back as far as she could, wishing she could disappear into the beam.  Then, she let loose a piercing shriek even as she tried to kick at him ineffectually.<strong>"Yuh git away from muh!!"</strong>she shouted, straining against the cuffs as her wrists were beginning to bare angry, red lines from where the skin was being rubbed raw from the force.<br/><br/><strong>"Quit touchin' muh!  Or ah'll..."</strong>her voice faltered a little as she grasped at straws.  What could she possibly do?  Her name wouldn't help her here.  Neither would her money.  And this time, her looks were a disadvantage.<strong>"...ah'll..."</strong>It was like trying to bluff your way out of a bad bet when all you had was a jack high and you knew your opponent was holding a pair of aces.  You just had to keep throwing good money after bad and hope your opponent would blink.<br/><br/><strong>"...ah'll tell muh Unca!  He'll show yah!"</strong>Okay, so not the best threat in her repertoire but it was the only one she could think of.  It wasn't as if anyone in her family was really known for being a sharpshooter or tough son of a bitch.