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Message-ID: <47408asstr$1081735801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel Part 8
Lines: 381
Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 22:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 008.txt" begin>

Rebel 008  (Old Bill)  (MF hist)

Viking

	"Oh gad, oh please, oh law, no no, oh my, oh lord, have 
mercy, oh no, oh yes, yes God, oh yes," the girl gasped out like a 
bellows, never quiet.  Every time I drove my ram into her tight and 
fiery quim, she exhaled a loud prayer of some sort when we banged 
our bones together.  I arched up on fully extended arms and tried to 
smile down at her as she writhed beneath me, undulating like some 
sort of sea creature and sobbing out her litany while I sawed in and 
out of her slick passage.  Her legs were crossed high on my back 
and her hands clawed at my shoulders.  We shook the bed and 
tested the rope frame's strength.

	"Shall I stop?" I asked very quietly as I held my thick spear 
fully extended within her, sweating freely and gritting my teeth, 
enjoying the sense of her well-filled cavity massaging its rigid 
invader, of her wriggling lips enfolding my overheated member as it 
moved.

	"No, no," she sighed, "no, please."

	Rocking from side to side and heaving with my hips and butt, I 
rammed her long and hard once more, and she finally collapsed 
beneath me, spent and soft, a lovely young woman who had done 
her very best to deceive me.

	"I really do have a message for you," she said when her mouth 
was free of mine and she had enough breath to speak.

	I drew it halfway from her dripping slit and then grinned and 
thrust it again into her, right to her womb's guardian knot.  She 
arched and squealed.

	"They, ah - that's wonderful - they want you to go to a town, 
oh God, a town; it's written down. An emergency they said.  Don't 
stop, please, please."

	She came again and went suddenly limp.  I withdrew, curious 
as well as satisfied.  Lying beside her while she mewled and her 
groin oozed out our fluids, I cupped my emptied stones, popped 
open the orders and read quickly through them.  A nearby town 
had come under patriot control and complaints about the soldiers, 
militiamen I was sure, were being widely heard.  I was to investigate 
at once.  One of Washington's adjutants and my captain had signed.

	I turned and nibbled the girl's left nipple.  "Had enough?" I 
asked, after one long, final lap, pulling her to me.

	She nodded, licking her bruised lips.	

	So I rolled out, dressed and hurried out to the stable.  I 
assumed the girl would go on back to Foster's side where I had seen 
her before.  By the time the sun was high, I was some twenty miles 
away and on the outskirts of Millersburg, a village of decent size in 
those days, barely a crossroads now.  All seemed very quiet.  I 
dismounted, hobbled my mare and went scouting.

	A few dogs prowled the empty lanes; chickens and ducks 
made the usual noises; the breeze whispered, and then a woman 
screamed.  Her cry was cut off and quiet returned.  The outcry has 
raised the hair on the back of my neck; it was a pained and 
desperate howl.

	From beside an outbuilding, likely a chicken coop, a redheaded 
female in a wide skirt appeared.  She looked about quickly and then 
ran for the woods, her long legs flashing as she raised her hem and 
bent her back, her white shirt billowing behind her like a flag of 
surrender.  I quickly moved to intercept her.

	She ran right into my arms, puffing hard.  She struggled and 
spat when I held her, beating on me.  She was a large and fine 
looking young woman, I guessed twenty perhaps, and a good ten 
stone, full bodied and mad as hell.

	"Let me go, y'big bully," she cried, kicking at my shins, "you'll 
not swive me."

	"Calm down, little one," I told her, hoisting her to my shoulder 
and whopping her broad ass, firm as any ham.  I hauled her deeper 
into the woods and sat her down beside a big oak, still snorting in 
anger.  I offered her my canteen and she brushed it aside, pulling 
her skirt down, stuffing in her shirttail and scowling.  Her workaday 
shirt had been torn from one muscular shoulder and gaped open to 
display a proud and upright pair of white breasts, red-tipped and 
firm, closer to quart than pint-sized.  She saw where I was looking 
and pulled her bodice together in her fist, glaring at me.

	I sat beside her and drank and then handed her the canteen.  
She drank and slopped water down her front, right down where I 
wanted to go with my tongue.

	"You're not one of them," she said, after taking a deep breath.

	"No," I told her and then introduced myself as a Continental 
from Maryland.

	"Mary Ellen Graves," she said, offering me her hand and 
letting a big boob fall free, bouncing nicely. She smiled at me, 
showing a fine set of teeth and sparkling green eyes.  My palms 
itched.  Her dark tit swelled.

	"What's going on?" I asked, pushing my hardening prod 
down my leg.

	"Militia," she said, "foul bunch, came here about a week ago."

	I waited while she paused and looked down, seemingly 
embarrassed by her lack of buttons.

	"They ran our men off, killed some, two or three I think, 
hanged the mayor, poor man, made the old men and women take 
the children and skedaddle."

	She took a deep breath.

	"Then they got us, the younger women, eight of us," she 
swallowed and looked away, "they got us into the church, and 
they've been raping us ever since, every day, over and over."  She 
fell into my arms, sobbing.  I held her and patted her heaving back.

	 "How many?" I asked.

	"Don' know," she sobbed.  "Don' know."  She sniffed and 
wriggled free, pulling her torn shirt together and tossing back her 
hair. "Maybe a score, about that.  Leader's called Colonel Broad."  
She shuddered.  "He's done me five times I know, the bastard."

	I raked my fingers through her wild hair and made her look 
up.  Then I kissed her gently, and she kissed me back warmly.

	"Tell me about what they do?  What's their routine?"

	She nodded and wiped at her eyes.  "They go our foraging, 
most of them, ever morning.  There's only two or three here now."

	A screech interrupted us, and the girl shivered beside me.

	"That's little Molly," she said.  "They bugger her.  She's barely 
thirteen, too small to roger I suppose.  She yells like that every time.  
I think it pleases them."

	"Only three guards?"

	She nodded.  "But we're bound and two are always watching, 
front and back."

	"How did you get away?"

	She smiled.  "Went to the privy; the other guard was too lazy 
to follow since he was pawing a woman.  So I ran.  See, there he is, 
looking for me."  She pointed.

	I wished I had a rifle instead of a musket.  "Only three?" I 
said.  

	She nodded.  "But the rest'll be back shortly.  They take turns 
on us."

	"Let's go do it then," I said.  "You game?"

	She grimaced.  "Of course."

	I primed my musket and handed her my big bayonet.  "You 
lead," I suggested.  I followed her as she zigzagged back toward 
the church, using all the cover there was and avoiding open spaces.  
When we were beside the clapboard chapel, she leaned back, 
puffing, her open shirt forgotten.  I slipped a hand around her full 
breast, squeezed up her big nipple and pulled her mouth to mine. 
Our tongues met.

	I went in the front while she headed for a side door.  I 
clubbed down the guard sitting on the steps and fooling with his 
pipe, stepped into the gloom and found myself face to face with a 
bearded man.  He yanked out a big pistol as he yelled in alarm, and I 
fired upwards at very close range, blowing the top off his skull and 
spraying the place with blood and brains.

	At the front of the church a man cried out.  I ran down the 
aisle and found the redhead straddling a militiaman and plunging my 
big blade into his back repeatedly, both hands on the thick handle, 
blood spurting wildly.  I pulled her away and together we freed the 
other women.

	We hurried out into the woods, passing right by what was left 
of the dangling body that I guessed had been the village mayor. At 
a small creek we stopped and conferred.  Within half-hour most of 
the women had vanished in twos and threes, hurrying off to 
neighbors or relatives, hardly looking back.  The redhead stayed, 
her eyes agleam.

	"I don't have nobody," she told me as she held my arm and 
leaned on my chest, her long legs rubbing mine. "No place to go."

	I patted her rump.  "Hard to believe," I said.

	"Had a lover," she said, "more'n one in fact, but they ran off, 
avoiding the recruiters."  She chuckled.  "And the preacher."

	"This colonel," I said.

	"He's gonna be awful mad."  She smiled up at me.

	"I don't want to take on twenty men," I told her as we 
lowered ourselves near the flashing stream, my hand raising her 
skirt to her thigh.

	"Maybe we can find a way," she whispered as she opened my 
waist and foreflap buttons and then reached in to free my swelling 
member.  She sighed and stroked it.  "That's awful pretty," she said.

	"First time its been called that," I said, finding her mouth and 
then pushing her to her back.  She yanked up her skirt and spread 
her legs, arched up and closed her eyes as I slowly entered her, 
sinking deep into her smooth and quivering grip.  When she was 
filled, we both exhaled and then laughed together.

	"By damn," she said through clenched teeth, "you're jus' my 
size."

	The ground was soft and mossy, and it's a good thing it was 
since our lovemaking tended to be vigorous if not violent.  After I 
spent myself in her for the second time she stopped gnawing on my 
shoulder and lay back, smiling up at me.  I bent and kissed her some 
more, letting my tired prong exercise itself however it willed within 
her clasping channel.

	"That was good, real good," she sighed, wriggling pleasantly.  
"Rape's no fun at all."

	"Might be for some," I said, and she glared at me

	"You could use me for bait," she said, wrinkling her forehead.

	"I suppose," I replied, my mind returning to the colonel.  "But 
it would be better if I went back and got some more men."

	"They might flee, the dogs, move on to another town."

	I nodded, flexing my horn and watching her eyes widen in 
response.  She was powerfully stimulating.

	"Let's try, tonight," she said, wrapping me tighter in her legs.

	I rolled us over so she was atop me.  She lay with her head on 
my chest, legs splayed out by mine.  We were both content, resting 
and hoping for more energy.  Then we heard crashing in the nearby 
woods.

	She disentangled herself and squatted beside me while I put 
away my turgid ram and buckled on my bayonet.  We slipped back 
from the creek and waited, barely breathing.

	Two militiamen came into view, waving their muskets right and 
left carelessly.

	"Shit," one said.

	The other scratched his groin and then opened his breeches 
and pissed into the stream.  "They's long gone."

	The first one nodded and they disappeared back the way they 
had come.

	"Did you search over there?" asked a voice that sounded as if 
it was right behind us.  We both jumped a bit, startled.

	"That's him," the girl whispered, "the colonel."

	The fat man, a turkey feather in his tri-cornered hat, walked 
right past our hiding place and stood at the creek, fists on wide hips.  
"They must a'had help," he said, I assume to himself since no one 
else was around.

	"Stand up," I said quietly to the girl, nudging her.  She got to 
her feet and when the colonel turned around, his mouth fell open.

	"You bitch," he growled and strode toward her.  I grabbed 
his leg as he passed where I was crouching and yanked hard.  
Down he went on his face and I dragged him into the bushes and 
quickly clamped my hand over his mouth.  I tore out a clump of 
weedy sod, pushed it into his face and put my knee on his belly.  
The girl squatted beside me, smiling.

	"What his name?" I asked her.

	"Jimson, something like that."

	"Take his purse and get his pistol."

	She did, breathing hard, her open shirt distracting me.  He 
kept struggling until I kneed him in the groin a time or two.

	"Wish we had a rope," I whispered, listening for other 
searchers.

	"He's got on that fancy sash," she said.

	I undid his sword belt and pulled the dark red sash free.  It 
was ten or twelve feet of loosely knitted material.

	"Have to do," I said, looping it around the man's neck and 
tying a good knot under his Adam's apple.  Every time he wriggled, 
I rammed my knee into his gut.  Soon he lay still, snorting to breathe, 
his mouth full of dirt and his neck constricted.

	We waited there by the creek, the three of us, and when 
everything had been quiet for a while and the sun was starting to 
slide down the western woods, I began.

	"This woman says you raped her," I said to the sweating man 
after flicking open one nostril with my big blade to get his attention.

	He just looked at me bug-eyed.

	"She says your men raped a whole bunch of women and girls.  
That so?  And hanged the mayor."

	He shook his head, and I cut open the other side of his nose.  
Now the blood sliding down his nostrils was making breathing even 
more difficult.  I cut open the groin of his fancy britches, exposing his 
shrunken privates.  I pushed his purple prick aside and gelded him.  
He fainted.  I dug the sod from his mouth and put the bloody 
scrotum where it had been, stuffing his stones as deep as I could 
into his throat.  Then I tossed the long sash over a pine's thick limb 
and pulled him up so his knees were off the ground, just neck and 
his limp toes supporting his weight.  I looped the sash around the 
limb once and then tied to other end about his ankles.

	He awoke choking and spat out his ballocks.  He kicked his 
feet and waved his arms, swinging to and fro, six inches off the 
ground.  His face turned red and then blue, his tongue protruded 
and he made gagging sounds.  He fouled himself.

	The girl and I left him there, hanging awkwardly from the 
tree, emasculated and garroted, spouting blood and dripping spit 
and vomit.  I hoped his men would get the message when they 
found his corpse.

	I got the redhead up on my mare and led the way down the 
road away from that sad town.  We stopped at the first tavern we 
came to, ate well on the colonel's money and took ourselves to a soft 
bed.

	In the morning, during our first energetic coupling, we 
managed to break the ropes knotted below us and drop the thin 
mattress right down on the floor. We did not miss a beat, not a one. 
I surely enjoyed having a full-sized woman on the end of my spear, 
and she seemed to enjoy it too.  I found that by bracing my hands 
or elbows on the side boards of the bed, I could really get some 
leverage into my swiving and she, during one vigorous romp, got 
her heels up on those boards and nearly bucked me off.  It was a 
fine and happy morning that helped us forget all else.

	We breakfasted like starving folk, paid extra for the broken 
bed, and went out into the fresh day.

	"Now what?" I asked her as she found some long thorns to 
replace the missing buttons on her torn shirt.

	"I'm going back to my home.  The others will return."

	I kissed her gently, wished her luck and went back to the war.  
She strode off like the Viking she was.



<1st attachment end>


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