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Message-ID: <47409asstr$1081735803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel part 9
Lines: 430
Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 22:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 009.txt" begin>

Rebel 009 (Old Bill)  (MF hist)  

Capture and Escape

Then a friend got me involved with a female the likes of which I had 
never seen.  She was at that time, despite her youth, an envied 
grande dame of the Tory hierarchy or pecking order, second only to 
Mrs. Loring herself, and once Howe was out of the way, she would 
have been right at the head of the overdressed, amoral and 
irreverent parade.  Her name does not matter; she is now a busy 
grandmother and well thought of by most of her friends and all of 
her family.  But back in the revolutionary times, she was something 
else entirely.

	Her problems, evidently, arose when one of her many lovers 
discovered that she was in communication with some of Virginia 
George's numerous agents in the city and threatened to expose her 
as an enemy spy unless she bowed to his obscene wishes.  That was 
when my friend Constance called for my help.  So, of course, off I 
went like some ill-kempt knight-errant. Aware of my Boston 
activities, the brass had already sent into the city several times to 
seek information, and I had made some very useful contacts.

	The young woman had me wait in her well-furnished sitting 
room after I presented my note of introduction and then made a 
most entertaining entrance, dressed in well-studied dishabille from 
her silk-clad toes to her carefully coifed hair with its dangling 
curlicues.  She offered me her hand, and I stepped right up to her, 
grabbed her by the back and buttocks and planted a open-mouthed 
kiss on her pouting lips, lapping at her tongue.  She gasped, snarled, 
struggled and then put her arms about me and ground her belly 
against mine.  I had guessed right again.  Our mouths melded and 
our bodies entertained each other. When we got our lips apart and 
sat side by side, her hand on my thigh, I asked how I could be of 
service.

	"You can kill General Frombly, the vile bastard, kill him dead," 
she said sweetly into my ear.  She licked me.  I kneaded her ass, 
pulling her up on my lap.

	"Is that all?" I asked.  She gnawed my neck. I pawed her 
chest.

	"No," she said, leaning back a bit and presenting her breasts 
to my mouth as her gown fell open, "I've had a note from my friend 
about you, the woman who sent you, and I can hardly believe what 
she has written." 

	"Really," I said.  "Well, what should we do first, adjourn to 
your bed or dispose of this Redcoat?"

	She laughed, jiggling her full breasts that stood corset-free 
beneath her flimsy wrapping. I nibbled one upright tit.

	"He will not be here for an hour or so," she said, licking her 
lips, "but I hardly think that is enough time for us to become really 
well acquainted."

	"True, true," I said, "but we should not waste time either, 
should we?  Life is so short."  She was a tall, slender, luscious 
woman, a bit slim in the hips for my taste, but she sported a fine pair 
of high, firm boobs, perfect for the styles of the day, and a very 
erect carriage and slender neck.  She was also quite handsome, 
beautiful if you will, with a sharp jawline, patrician nose and deep-set 
eyes, outlined in something very dark, almost like ink.  A stunner, 
that is what she was and very likely still is.

	I stood, offered her my elbow, and she rose and took it, her 
gown loosely flapping.  Up the grand stairway of her impressive 
home we strode and into her pink and blue bedchamber where she 
turned into my arms and offered me her mouth.

	"Now," I said, kicking the door closed, ignoring her open 
mouth and holding her hips.  "Tell me what is going on."

	She put her head on my chest and sighed.  "I'm so tired of 
pretending," she said very quietly.  "And I'm sure some of my 
servants are in British pay."

	We sat thigh to thigh on a window seat, holding hands, and 
she poured out her discomfort with her way of life and her fears of 
the future.  I consoled her with kisses and petting, arousing myself 
in the process until my hardness was difficult to ignore.  She slipped 
to her knees between my legs, flipped open my foreflap and freed 
my raging member.  She reared back as it sprang up, hand to her 
mouth, eyes wide and eyebrows arched.

	"M'lord," she cried, "Connie did not lie."  She grabbed the hot 
ram with both hands, kissed its spongy head and pushed it into her 
mouth through pursed lips, her tongue flicking rapidly.  She was as 
talented a cocksucker as I ever ran into and with one hand on my 
shaft and the other pumping away at my ballocks, she brought me 
up to a straining climax in a very few minutes, snorting through her 
nose.  Then she licked me clean, tucked my once-proud member 
away and buttoned me up, smiled sweetly and resumed her seat.  It 
might have taken two minutes but I doubt it.

	I moaned and she kissed me like a cousin, on the cheek.

	"Now," she said, licking her lips, "when he gets here, he may 
bring one or two other men with him.  I fear I have been asked to 
do as many as a half-dozen of his foul friends on several occasions."

	"Why?" I asked, returning her kiss and bobbling her firm 
breast.

	"I am alone in the world and I must eat."

	I nodded and slid my hand inside her loose gown to cup and 
weigh her large tit.  It was warm and silky smooth and its nipple was 
erect and pointed.  It filled my large hand.

	A tap at the bedroom door stopped any further exploration.  
A black maid appeared and said, "He's here, ma'm."  She bobbed up 
and down, glanced at me and disappeared silently.

	The young woman ushered me into an adjoining room, a 
dressing room from the look of it and warned me to be quiet, up on 
tiptoe to kiss my mouth.  Then she hurried off, adjusting her flimsy 
clothes, her heels clacking.

	I found a chair and was about to relax, made drowsy by the 
girl's ultra-competent sucking, when a commotion down below 
brought me to my feet, nerves alert, hand on the hilt of my bayonet.  
I hurried out into the hall and looked down to see not only an 
officer in full fig but also a covey of Redcoat infantrymen who were 
in the process of dragging the young woman from her home, her 
shoulders nearly bare and gown flying behind her.  I hesitated, 
mentally counting and estimating my chances of preventing her 
capture.  Her cries were very plaintive, but she never revealed my 
presence and the door soon closed behind the knot of uniformed 
men.  From a front window I watched the carriage and its string of 
mounted guards depart.

	I hurried down the back stairs, quickly saddled my mare and 
went in pursuit, keeping a decent interval as I did and trying not to 
think what the girl might have been suffering in the carriage.  I knew 
what I would be doing to her.

	At one of the many large houses the occupiers had 
commandeered, the party stopped, the horsemen dismounted and 
the woman was forced down some steps below the front porch and 
though a small door into the basement, her sheer robe flowing 
loosely about her limber body, one pink-tipped breast fully bared as 
she struggled.

	The squad of mounted grenadiers, if that is what they were, 
then rode away.  I found a place to hide my mount in the nearby 
woods and waited for dark.  People came and went, mostly officers, 
and when the place was completely dark, I approached, pried open 
a ground level window and dropped into the cellar as quietly as I 
could.  Huskily, I whispered the girl's name, and a man's voice 
yelled, "Grab him" as a shuttered lantern was flung open.

	Two large men jumped me, pinning my arms, while the officer 
held the lamp high, a grin on his face.  Although he was in his 
shirtsleeves, from his age and fancy wig I guessed he was indeed 
the general who should have been the target of my efforts.  I tossed 
one man over my shoulder, turned and hammered down the other 
with a good, straight right and left and then felt a blow to the back 
of my head and fell to my knees, my eyes filled with flashing light.  
Another blow floored me and I played dead, not wanting any more 
of the same.  They dragged me into a cell-like room after taking my 
belt and bayonet and left after a kick or two in the ribs, locking the 
door.

	"Now your reward," the gruff voice said as another door 
creaked open,  "I'll give you, let's say, a half-hour of her time.  
Aw'right?  And I'll leave y'the lanthorn so you can see to do your 
work."

	The girl's screech was followed by the sound of a meaty slap.

	"Don't," she cried, as men laughed, "don't, don't."

	As I explored the dark and windowless room with my hands, I 
had to listen to her sobs and moans and the soldiers' grunts and 
cries of pleasure as flesh smacked together loudly and steadily.  It 
seemed to go on much longer than thirty minutes and by then I had 
found nothing but smooth stonework and a very solid door with an 
iron lock and hinges on the outside.

	The men across the way were called back eventually, and I 
stood at my door and said the young woman's name several times 
before she responded.  I told her I was sorry.  I told her we would 
get out of this.  She just sobbed.  Somehow the night passed.

	They came down and fetched me out very early in the 
morning.  I had pissed in a corner where it smelled as if many others 
had done the same so I had eased my morning erection and tried to 
husband my strength, sure I would find a way to extricate myself 
and the young lady, seeing her lush body in my mind's eye, 
knighthood's banners, I suppose, still in my adolescent brain. I 
wondered where they had stowed my bayonet, missing its weight 
on my hip.

	I was brought before the general, now in his fine uniform, my 
hands tied before me.  He asked me my name and so on, and I told 
him what I chose. He asked how I knew the woman, and I looked at 
him blankly.

	"You were at her house," he said.  "We know that."

	I just shook my head and said I did not know what he was 
talking about.

	"Give him ten good ones," the general said, "no, make that 
twenty and bring that bitch up here to watch."

	They hauled me out and tied me to a heavy pole in the 
courtyard with my hands roped high above my head.  Then some 
soldier ripped my shirt apart and another started flailing away at my 
back with a long whip.  I had been lashed before and this fellow 
really did not know his business.  It hurt but it really was tolerable.  
He might as well have been beating me with a stick.

	Then the young woman was brought forth and placed on the 
other side of the pole, facing me.  I smiled at her.  They tied her 
hands nearly as high as mine were and then tore away what was left 
of the upper part of her light dress.  Her lush breasts were pressed 
against the rough wood as she withstood a dozen lashes on her 
bare back, gritting her teeth but never crying out, her eyes locked 
on mine.  I fear I blinked each time she was hit.

	We hung there all morning and as the sun rose higher, and as 
the flies became more common, we both were in some torment.  I 
smelled food and assumed that something might happen after they 
ate.  The girl and I had yet to say a word to each other, but we had 
exchanged tight smiles from time to time as we tried to flex our 
battered bodies and stretch our aching arms.

	Picking his teeth and smiling, the general came down where we 
were tied early in the afternoon.  He grabbed my queue and pulled 
my head back.  "We're giving you to the Hessians," he said.  "They 
need bayonet drill."  He spat on me and turned to the girl. "You go 
to the Germans too," he told her.  "They have a house full of your 
kind.  Most there serve twenty or thirty sweating men a day.  How 
long do y'think you'll last?" He pinched her nipple hard and walked 
away, still sucking at his teeth.  "Haul `em off," he yelled at someone 
I could not see.

	Soldiers untied us both and then rebound our hands behind 
us.  I watched as they pawed the luscious girl in the process.  Then 
they pushed us back down the cellar steps and left us there in the 
dark.  My back stung like fire and I am sure hers did too.  I worked 
at her knots silently and when I gave up, she worked on mine and 
very quickly got me loose with her long fingernails.  I untied her and 
held her, stroking her bruised and bloody back.  She moaned and 
kissed me.

	I pulled her dress up, kissed her quickly and pushed her 
beneath the steps.  Then I explored the basement and found a short 
set of stairs that led to the front door where I had seen them bring 
her in and hanging there on the door handle was my belt and blade 
bayonet, right where they had captured me.  I strapped it on and 
felt a hundred percent better.  I tried the door, cursed and then 
found a key in the lock, opened it and peered out.  Two sentries 
stood near the front steps, at ease, their backs to me.  The street 
was quiet.

	I went back to the girl who stood bent over, breathing hard, 
trembling.  

	"We must try to escape, make a run for it," I said. "They are 
probably sending for a rig."

	"I'm not sure I can," she said, sniffing.  "They really hurt me 
last night, buggered me hard."

	"I don't see another way," I whispered just as the door above 
us opened and someone said loudly, "Haul them up here."

	I hurried the girl to the front door, pulled her out under the 
wide steps and then jumped out to attack the guard on the near 
side.  I pulled back his chin with my hand over his mouth and 
stabbed him in the back, grabbed his musket and bayoneted his 
partner, nailing him to the cobbled street. I yanked the musket loose, 
leaving the sticker in him, pulled my knife out of the other Redcoat 
who was still kicking and snatched his cartridge case.  Then I hauled 
the girl out, noting how wide her eyes were, and we ran for the 
trees.  As we got into the treeline, we heard cries behind us, but I 
quickly found my horse, got the girl mounted and slapped the good 
animal's flank.

	"Head toward the river,' I yelled.  "I'll be right behind you."

	The girl pulled on the reins and slid from the saddle, right into 
my arms.  "We go together," she said.  I knelt and checked the pan, 
assuming the musket was loaded and then fixed my bayonet on the 
weapon.

	A Redcoat, his hat askew, charged right into our hiding place 
and then stood there, astonished, as I drove my bayonet all the way 
through him. He fell gasping and we had two weapons.

	"How many men in there?" I asked as I reloaded.

	"Four guards, I think," she said.  "Two horsed me last night 
and I'm sure there were two on duty then.  I heard them talking 
about that, about taking turns."

	Across the open space between the big home and the forest's 
edge came four men: one soldier carrying a bayonet-tipped Brown 
Bess, the fat general with his long sword, and two black uniformed 
Germans, sabers raised.

	I dismounted and handed the woman my bloody bayonet to 
make reloading easier and fired twice in quick succession, knocking 
down one of the Germans and wounding the Redcoat so that he 
stumbled to his knees and dropped his weapon.  I reloaded a 
musket, but when I looked up from behind the fallen tree where we 
hid, I could see no one.  I stuffed a ball into the other musket 
quickly, rammed it down and reclaimed my bayonet.  I pulled the 
other gun to full cock and handed it to the girl, pointing it out where 
they had been.

	"When I say fire," I said, "you fire, don't bother to aim.  Just 
squeeze, hold it down and squeeze, don't yank the trigger."

	She nodded.

	A crunching to our left was followed by a cry of "Over here.  I 
see them!"

	"Fire!" I yelled and the girl did, flinching and ducking her 
head.

	Out of the underbrush came a charging Hessian, yelling 
something guttural, and I shot too quickly and missed so stood to 
take him on my thick bayonet and heave him over my head and into 
the nearest tree, trailing a wide ribbon of blood, his saber still in his 
hand.

	I reloaded with shaking hands.

	"How many is that?" I asked the girl quietly.

	She shook her head, eyes blinking.  Then she cried, "Look!"

	I turned to face the general, only two strides away, a heavy 
pistol in his hand and fear or hatred in his face.  I smiled at him as he 
put both thumbs on the dog head to cock his fancy weapon. I 
swung the butt of my musket across my body and smashed the gun 
from his hand.  He turned to flee, tripped over a root and sprawled 
before us.

	I got him up and walked him out of the woods to the place 
where the wounded Redcoat lay, trying to stop the blood flowing 
from his thigh.  I was glad to see I was still aiming low as I had been 
taught.  I made the general kneel, had the girl hold my weapon on 
him even though it was not loaded, helped the wounded man fix a 
tight bandage on his leg and then said, "Now, you will be our 
witness."

	He looked at me dumbly.

	I unlocked my bayonet from the musket the woman held.  
Then I tossed the general's wig away and put my blade to his neck, 
lifting his wobbling chin.

	"Beg," I said.

	He begged for his life, soiling himself as he did.

	"Apologize to this woman, pray her forgiveness."

	He did, tears rolling down his plump cheeks.

	"Look away," I said to the girl.

	She did and I cut the man's throat from ear to ear, spraying 
the ground and my wrist with his blood.  He flopped, his eyes open 
in death.

	The girl and I found my horse, and I helped her mount.  We 
made it back to her home by nightfall, washed each other's back 
with her servants' help and slept in her big bed, exhausted.  I doubt 
that I even snored.

In the morning, I managed to ignore my tumescent condition, 
as did she with a small smile.  A doctor was summoned and put 
some kind of ointment on our backs.  He went off and we rested, 
anticipating a visit from other Redcoats.  None came.  We decided 
that she would attempt to resume her useful work among the Tory 
upper class.

	We slept together again, chastely, and the next morning I was 
happy to awaken with a raging erection that demanded immediate 
attention.  I nudged the lovely girl beside me and slipped back the 
quilt. My prong leapt up happily, like a well-stepped mast.

	"Is this," I asked when she opened her eyes, "what my friend 
Constance wrote you about?"

	"Indeed," she said, rising on one elbow and rubbing her eyes, 
"it is indeed."

	"And you feel up to entertaining it this morning?" I asked.

	"Not on my back," she said, kissing my nose, "but I will do my 
best." She stroked the blood hot thing as we kissed.

	After we coupled happily side by side until she sobbed in 
climax and I groaned loudly as I spent myself in her, I ignored the 
welts on my back and lay nearly supine, holding my root at its thick 
base.  She mounted me carefully and slowly, holding my free hand, 
twisting her way down my shaft with a grimace on her fine face as I 
rested my shoulders on the headboard.  Then she took me though 
the paces from walk to gallop and back again several times, enjoying 
herself fully, posting like a champion horsewoman when we trotted, 
her breasts bouncing gaily before my eyes and in my grasping 
hands.  After that, a bit rubber-legged, we both made it down for 
some breakfast.

	I went back to the war after another day of strenuous 
recreation.  By then I needed the rest.

<1st attachment end>


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