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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel part 14
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Date: Tue, 13 Apr 2004 07:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 014.txt" begin>

Rebel 014  (Old Bill)  (MF  Mf  hist)

The Major's Wife 

	When I got back, somebody sewed up the cuts above my right eye
and at the corner of my mouth, and my lieutenant took pity on me
and assigned me an easy job for a change.

	"All you gotta do," he said, giving me a hard eye, "is take
this here box, it's full a'reports of some kind, down to meet the
stage to Philadelphia, down at Smedleyville."

	I nodded and mentally assessed my finances, hoping to spend
some on good beer and bad women when I got the chance.

	"Y'see that carriage?" the lieutenant asked, pointed. "Major
James, that's his, and he's giving you a ride down there; that
is, his lady is.  You c'n trail a horse if you can' fin' one that
not nobody's or you can hike on back.  Ain't much more'n ten-
twelve miles." I was sure that meant twenty at least.

	"How `bout some meal money?" I asked hopefully.

	"Get on," he told me, turning his back.  I failed to find a
horse and so took my seat inside the carriage next to a stately
woman in black and gray who introduced herself as the major's
wife, Mrs. James.  I knuckled my forehead and said my name and
she smiled and said, "Lizzie's what they call me; that's good
enough. We'll go as soon as the Patterson women get here and stow
their baggage." She made a sour face.  It was, in repose, a fine
strong face with a good nose, dark eyes and a square chin.  I
could not guess her age, but she was some older than I was and a
lot better off. Briefly, I wondered how bad I smelled since she
smelled so good.

	A young, blonde girl hopped in to take the seat across from me,
all flying curls and plump boobies and cinched-in waist and
fluffy lace and bows and such and then her mother, a more full-
bodied duplicate of the girl came, bent forward to give me a good
view of her barely-covered, globular charms, sat beside her
somewhat more demure daughter and smoothed out her patterned
skirt, preening like a bird of some sort.  It was a tasty pair.

	"Ladies," I started to say, "may I present Mrs. James."

	"Of course," the woman across from her interrupted, nodding,
"we've met.  You remember Suzy, my daughter?"  The women, all
three, ignored me for the next few minutes as if I was not there,
and I spent the time admiring the younger girl's lush body and
pretty face; she was, I guessed, probably no more than sixteen
soft springs. "Good enough to eat," the boys would say, and "Ripe
enough to pluck."  Her slim body boasted womanly hips and a fine,
upright pair of orbs that threatened to climb right out of her
bright blue dress. She wore a constantly surprised expression
complete with blinking eyes. Her dangling curls and her high
breasts joggled happily along with the rig's spring-softened
progress, and I felt myself being aroused by just looking at her
so changed my point of view to avoid embarrassment as my warm
member crept down my leg.

	The mother was also a fine looking woman, if a bit dull
perhaps, vapid I suppose is the word, probably somewhere in her
thirties, blue-eyed, corn-silk-haired, tightly corseted and
likely ten stone or so while my seat companion, the major's lady,
was taller, svelter with longer legs and a jutting prow barely
ducking into her lacy shift and tight-fitting bodice; she was
surely a stay-tester. She had a pile of dark brown hair and wore
gold earrings and a gold locket between her high, corset-assisted
breasts.  It was a very pleasant ride.  All three of them smelled
good, too.

	Then the driver let a wheel slip off the road and several
spokes shattered like gunshots before the axle sprung right in
the middle, and the carriage almost tipped over on its side in a
steep ditch.  The women across from me screamed and held each
other while the major's wife grabbed my arm and steadied herself
with the other hand, breathing a quiet curse I was not supposed
to hear.  I climbed out of the precariously askew vehicle and
helped the women to disembark, enjoying the view of their
stockinged legs and lace-trimmed hems.  The four of us and the
unhappy driver stood in the dusty road looking at the wreck.

	"There's an inn just a ways down the road, ma'm, a hoot an' a
holler," the man said to the major's wife, who was obviously his
employer and not too happy with him.  "You could send this feller
for help."

	"How far?" asked Lizzie James, the color rising in her cheeks,
fists clenched at her sides, chest heaving, looking like a kettle
about to boil.

	"Mile or less," he said, squinting at me, hoping for support
and finding none.

	"We'll hike it unless Mrs. Patterson and Suzy would rather stay
here with you."  The major's lady kicked a stone and started off
at a quick-march pace.

	Mrs. Patterson shook her frizzy blonde head, I got my musket on
my shoulder, and we walked down the edge of the road in the
midday sun, a good healthy walk that turned out to be closer to
two miles than one.  We slaked our thirst at the well and plopped
down at a table to eat, quite dusty and bit tired in the shadowed
room.

	"Is he going to dine with us?" asked Mrs. Patterson, jerking
her thumb at me.

	Mrs. James nodded, and the other two women got up quickly and
moved to a distant table.  The girl glanced back at me and
smiled.  I smiled at her and turned my attention to Lizzie James,
who was a lovely women when she was not angry and a handsome one
even then.  Of course, I wondered how she would be in bed.

	"What was that about?" I asked.

	"Reputation, I suppose." she said, holding my gaze.  "I guess
you haven't seen that little bird before, the curly-headed one
with the wide blue eyes and the simpering pink smile."

	"Who, Suzy?"

	"Indeed, Suzy, she, m'lad, is a true wonder, the talk of
Washington's camp." She dropped her voice to just above a husky
whisper.  "She had been deflowered at least a score of times that
I know of."  The woman broke her bread, and attacked her stew
with a tight-lipped smile while I digested that information.

	"Really?" I said after looking as the pretty youngster again
and feeling my prod flex when I did.

	"At up to a ten guineas a toss, hard money, perhaps a hundred
in good paper," said the major's wife, lifting one eyebrow.
"Imagine."

	A just shook my head and drank my beer, imagining.

	"Her mother sells her off, pleading poverty, and has trained
the girl to squeal and pout, claiming both ignorance of men and
pain at their intrusion into her delicately curled and supposedly
untouched precincts.  She has some sort of capsule of ox blood
she uses to simulate her maidenhead's destruction and can weep on
cue most piteously.  It's a golden performance, I'm told."

	"How do you know all this?"  I ladled some more stew for both
of us.

	"My good husband, the pious fool, paid sixty paper dollars for
an hour with her and came away thinking he had raped a virgin."
The woman laughed briefly and then put a hand to her mouth. "He
told me all about them after conferring with a few ofhis fellow
officers."

	"Hard to believe," I said.

	"No it's not," she said, "just look at her."  She gestured with
her spoon.

	I did and it was true, the girl radiated innocence and purity
as well as youthful beauty and sexual attraction, as do most
women her age.  She was a succubus in sunshine, a rosy angel
waiting to be taken; nay, eager to be plowed.  My root trembled.

	"I made my major give me sixty before I slept with him again."
She laughed with easier humor.

	I shook my head.  "Why tell me?"

	"You are a man, and that is what she preys on."  She gave
another small laugh, almost a cough.  "I've seen how you look at
her, like a dog in heat.  You are likely to be asked what you
would pay for the girl's favors, for her non-existant virginity,
if a richer-looking prospect does not come along before dark."

	"Me, I hardly think so," I said with a smile.  "Surely she's
only an officer's plaything."

	The woman nodded.  "That's true, as far as I know.  But if you
have an itchy cock and some money, you are fair game."

	We had sent a man from the stable to look at our rig and by the
time we had eaten he and the driver were back.  Noon the next day
was as soon as repairs could be made and a proper-sized wheel
obtained.  The smashed one was beyond fixing.  Mrs. James
accepted the news, gave her driver some coins and elbowed me.

	"Let's go outside," she said, "it's a pleasant day and I need
some diversion."

	I found that an interesting word, left my unloaded musket in a
corner of the bar and followed her along a lane to a small
stream. We talked of the war and of Maryland and Connecticut,
where she was from, and then we stopped at the bridge and at her
instigation, we kissed, gently at first, her hands high on my
back and her belly hard agaisnt mine while I held her firm
buttocks with one hand and stroked her wide back with the other,
pulling her closer and kissing her harder, my hand buried in her
hair while we gobbled each other's mouth.  I was glad I had
shaved and changed my shirt, odd things to think about with a
willing woman in your arms, her tongue in your mouth and firm
breasts hard against you.  And she was more than willing, I
decided, she was downright eager as her legs clamped one of mine.

	We trotted down the hill hand in hand, found a mossy bank that
had some privacy thanks to a stand of cattails and copse of low-
limbed trees and kissed some more, fumbling at each other,
undoing buttons and laces and making nonsense noises in clumsy
haste. I helped her out of her full skirt, loosed her bodice and
was working at her fancy stays when she said, "Come, come, man,
don't waste time.  Get at it!" She lay on her back, yanked up her
shift and spread her long legs.  "Lay on, McDuff!" she cried with
a smile, showing me her wooly muff and puckered lips.

	I freed my swollen member, which leapt up as if made of steel,
pushed her lace-bordered undergarment a bit higher, admired her
furry cunny with its pink and pouting lips and took her on her
back, her knees raised and her feet planted firmly beside my
hips. She bounced and heaved beneath me as I arched up on
extended arms, dug in my toes and enjoyed myself fully and at
some length while she undulated and gasped, rocking from side to
side, eyes closed, stomping the ground more or less in time with
my thrusts. When we both had climaxed twice and were resting,
hoping for more I am certain, she helped me get her out of her
stays and encouraged me to taste her large tits and suck them
until they extended and hardened while she worked on my wornout
member.  I got my boots off and stripped away my britches before
she clawed me back to her, my ridged shaft trembling with
anticipation and her nether region dripping with readiness.  I
covered her mouth with mine when she screamed and made me stop
ramming it so fiercely.  I paused on all fours above her as we
both got back our breath, barely dipping my wick in her.

	Then I mounted her again after getting my folded britches and
her rolled-up skirt under her rump, sliding easily into her
viscous channel while rising to my knees.  She wrapped her legs
about me and clamped me tight, sighing out, "Ahh, ahh, ahh," as I
drove deeper and higher into her tight warmth.  When she was
fully impaled and I was flexing as best I could, she smiled up at
me. "You'd tear that silly child apart," she groaned out between
gritting teeth. I increased the pressure and the pace, rearing
with pride as we bucked and heaved at each other.  "That is a
damn big piece of meat, it's half way up my gut," the woman cried
as I extended and held it fully extended in her, every muscle I
had tensed.

	"Ugh," I responded.  I arched my back and we satisfied each
other, humping hard and rocking to and fro.  In fact long after
she had spasmed again and cried out for mercy, I was still going
at it like a well digger, and she had to urge me to stop, pull on
my queue and push me away, still hard and needy.  She brought me
to another climax with her stroking hands while I knelt before
her, shaking with lust, and I spurted out four or five creamy and
wiggling streams under her milking ministration.  I just sat back
on my haunches and enjoyed her efforts, remembering when I was a
boy back in Maryland.

	We dressed and brushed off each others clothes.  By the time we
got back to the tavern, a light rain had begun and the wind had
shifted around to the northeast.  She stopped at the outhouse and
I went on in to find a gaggle of local militia making what I
assumed was a friendly fuss over the Patterson women. At first I
thought it was just innocent play.  The daughter sat back in a
corner, big eyed as usual, her hands covering her overflowing
chest while her mother struggled in the grip of a pair of large
men who seemed to be intent on dancing with her or getting her to
the foot of the stairs. The men were chorlting and urging
compliance.  Another uniformed man sat beside Suzy with his hand
on her thigh while he tried to pry her hands away from her
bulging breasts.

	"Hold on!" I yelled, grabbing one of the men holding Mrs.
Patterson and tossing him over a table.  I punched the fellow
pawing at Suzy right between the eyes and then threw the boy who
had jumped on my back up against the wall.  He went about ten
feet through the air upside down. The fourth man pulled a knife
while one of the men on the floor got to his feet, his nose
pouring blood.  I drew my own blade and the distraught Patterson
woman, her dress torn open and a seething militaman still holding
her arm, yelled, "Behind you!"

	I turned and ducked just as a pistol went off singeing my hair
with the muzzle blast.  I heard the man behind me yell out as I
thrust my blade into the shooter's belly and carved him open from
belt buckle to Adam's apple. The man with the knife yelled and
slashed at me from the right, ripping my shirt sleeve as blood
sloshed my boots, and I drove my blade all the way through the
middle of his body, lifting him clear off the floor, arms and
legs flailing aimlessly. The young fellow who had been trying to
get at the girl scrambled for the door while the man who had been
holding Mrs. Patterson slowly fell to his knees, holding his
shoulder which the lead ball had shattered.  The woman clutched
her dress together and wept in fear.

	"Stop!" I yelled at the fleeing militiaman, "come and take this
bastard with you."  The young man stood, transfixed, glanced at
the two bleeding bodies and helped his wounded companion to his
feet.

	"We was jus' funning," he said to no one in particular.

	"Get him out of here," I said, my blood aboil.  "Then send
someone back for these corpses.  They'll be outside with the
garbage."

	He nodded, and they stumbled out into the rain, leaving a
bloody trail.  I sat beside Suzy, my back to her, and wiped my
blade on the chest of the dead man at my feet, noting that he
needed a shave and had a gold tooth.  The girl put her hand on my
back.

	"I think I'm going to be sick," she said quietly, and I moved.
She stepped over the dead man, holding her skirts high, and her
mother went with her toward the back door. I checked the bodies
for valuables and hauled them outside by their feet, leaving both
face down in the mud by the refuse pile.  The innkeeper took
their boots and then mopped the floor.  I washed my hands and had
a beer.

	Mrs. James sat across from me, very quiet, seemingly
unimpressed.  "This rain my slow our repairs.  I came in just at
the end of that melee."

	I nodded and ordered two more.  I swilled, she sipped. When I
was calmer, I said, "I'm sure we can find some good way to wile
the time.  Idle hands and all that."

	She smiled at me over her mug, and she never spoke of the
violence she had seen.  Slowly, my rage subsided and my member
softened.  I scratched it unobtrusively.

	The Patterson women returned and sat with us.  The older woman
thanked me profusely, trying to put her hair back where she had
pinned it, and Suzy nodded with a weak smile, looking nearly
boneless, her body slack in her fashionable clothes which now
looked too big for her.  She pulled a knit scarf about her slim
shoulders and looked at her feet. 

	"All part of the service," I said.

	"What are we to do?" Mrs. Patterson asked.

	"Be patient," Mrs. James said, "it is a virtue, they say."

	Mrs. Patterson sniffed and removed herself and her daughter to
their original table, still holding her damaged gown together.

	"Where are you sleeping?" asked Lizzie James, covering my hand
with hers, her eyes alight.

	"Depends," I said.  "Likely out in the stable, up in the loft."

	"I'm sure you could do better."

	"Did you hire a room?"

	"Two," she said, raising an eyebrow.  "Both with big beds; room
enough for six, so the man told me."

	"We don't want to scandalize anyone," I said, trying not to
sound a hypocrite, but happy to be offered another juicy helping
of the major's randy wife.  Our knees touched beneath the table.

	"Of course not," she said, her hidden hand on my leg, "but I'll
leave my door unlocked."

	So that night, when most honest folks were long abed, I was
creeping up the stairs with the intent of boarding a married
woman, an officer's lady, horny as sin and thinking hard on how
we would get started this time, when who should I meet but Mrs.
Patterson in her long nightgown, coming down the steps, guttering
candle in hand.  We stood facing one another, my mouth at about
the level of her ample bosom.

	"I was headed out to the stable," she whispered. "Suzy's sound
asleep."

	"Why were you going out there?" I put a hand on her warm hip. 
It was spongy soft.

	"Wanted to thank you proper like," she said, wiggling and
trying to look coy.

	"Oh," I said brightly, about half riled with my thoughts on the
lean, long-legged Mrs. James and her deep and sinuous passage to
endless friction and meaty pleasure.

	"Yes," she sighed, bending to kiss me sweetly, her hand in my
hair, "you were very brave.  I've never seen the like, hope never
to witness such blood-letting again."

	I held her wide rump with both hands and nuzzled between her
lush breasts.  She smelled of lilac.

	"So I was coming out to reward you, in my own way," she
whispered as I pulled loose her bow, popped a nipple free of its
lace and tweaked it between thumb and forefinger.  She made a
small squeak and her eyes widened.

	"Turn about and grip a step," I said, grasping her full breast
and producing a groan as I pushed her about, "we can do it right
here.  It's still raining, you know."

	She nodded, set down her short candle, turned and bent over,
getting her knees down on a step and raising high her ample rump.
I flipped up her long nightgown, caressed her rounded bottom and
slid my hand between her buttocks to find her cunny both wet and
warm as well as rather floppy.  So I slipped two fingers into
her, walked them about, unlimbered my trusty weapon and thrust my
hips forward a bit, sliding my rigid shaft between her thighs and
up into her widening quim as I withdrew my hand to hold her
steady.  She gasped as my hard ram popped in and climbed
steadily, still swelling.

	"I thought you were ready," I whispered, hardly a hand deep
into her, and making very small withdrawals and smaller
insertions, hurrying I fear and groping at her hanging boobies,
eager to be elsewhere.

	�I am, I am," she sighed,"But . . ."  She nearly collapsed as
her knees failed her.  Her whole soft body shook.

	I rammed my spear home, lifting her feet from the step above me
and bouncing her head off the tread two more steps ahead. She
arched and braced, and I took her deeply and quickly,
accelerating steadily until she spasmed and emitted another small
squeal of joy.  I withdrew almost at once, still long and hard,
pulled down her gown, wiped my overheated lance on her hem,
stuffed it out of sight with some difficulty, helped her up the
steps and to her door, patted her soft bottom in a proprietary
manner and kissed her cheek quickly.

	"Thank you," I said, "debt well paid."

	"My sweet girl, my young daughter, " she whispered to me,
standing on tip-toe "she wanted to thank you too. In a different
way, of course, with just a kiss."

	"Later," I said, pushing her into the room, "later," I closed
the door and took a deep breath.  She was the most bovine woman
with whom I have ever consorted, docile and willing but mainly
inert, like ploughing a fallow field.

	Mrs. James, on the other hand, was impatient.  "Where have you
been?" she greeted me, sitting up in bed and, the sickle moon
showed, bare as nature itself.  "I was nearly ready to start
without you."

	I undressed quickly in the dark room, wiping myself as I did,
found the edge of the high bed and crawled in beside her,
following where my outstretched member led.  We kissed and let
our bodies warm each other.

	"I heard a noise out in the hall," she said to my mouth.

	"Lady Patterson," I said, "seeking service and offering
gratitude."

	"And you, ah, you covered her?"

	"Briefly," I said, getting my knees between hers, lifting her
legs on my arms and rearing above her.

	"Was she pleased," Lizzie James asked as I lowered myself upon
her warm body and the head of my prod found the proper opening
and was greeted with parted and quivering lips.

	"I think so," I said, inching into her as her hand closed about
my swollen scrotum.  "It  was hard to tell. `Sblood, woman, don't
tear them off."

	"Ah," said Mrs. James, withdrawing her hand as our bodies
closed and then lifting her legs as I rose to stimulate her
nubbin.  We soon had the bed's ropes complaining and the
sideboards creaking. I have known a few women, but the major's
wife was surely one of the strongest and most durable bedmates I
had encountered up to that time.  She was nearly tireless and had
me begging for rest two or three times before she was satiated
enough to cry out, "Stop, stop, please stop," and "Let us sleep
for a while" as I moaned above her, dripping sweat, my stomach
muscles afire.  Her legs were so widepread her feet hung off the
sides of the thin mattress.

	I felt like an empty shell, my ballocks like shriveled walnuts,
and I fell into darkness only to be awakened, what seemed moments
later, with a nudge in the groin, a sharp elbow.

	"You are snoring, sirrah," she said, stroking my thick prod and
then climbing atop me and swinging one leg across mine as she
pushed me flat on my back.

	"Was I?" I said, grabbing my tumescent member at its hairy base
and holding it upright."

	"Aye," she said, wiggling to get centered and then lowering
herself slowly on my flexing mast, her knees at my pelvis and
hands on my ribs.  "Let's see if this stops it."  She impaled
herself, ground our pubic bones together, rested her head on my
shoulder, slid her legs down alongside my mine, and I held her
heaving rump. Somehow we fell asleep like that, joined, with my
stalk quivering and occasionally leaping deep within her, being
steadily caressed by sinuous muscles, fimly safe in a wondrous
glove.

	Footsteps outside the door awoke me in the pre-dawn gray.  I
heard someone descending the creaking steps and rolled out of
bed. From the window, I saw Mrs. Patterson, coat held above her,
waddling across the stepping stones to the privy.  I looked down
at my massive erection, pleased to find that it was full and
firm, the head big as a plum, shaft thick and heavy-veined,
despite the evening's strenuous exercise.  So I tip-toed out the
door and went to the Pattersons' room, entered and dropped the
latch behind me.

	"Mother?" said the girl in a husky, early-morning voice.

	I put a knee up on the bed and said, "No."  My oversized cannon
nearing the girl's soft mouth.

	She popped up, silhouetted by the window in the pink-grey of
dawn.  "Oh," she said, her upright breasts sharp-pointed.

	I took her hand.  "Your mother said you wanted to thank me."

	"Yes, but," she said weakly, her eyes riveted to my engorged
member which rose before me, rearing up to point at her chin.
"But, but."  It must have looked a yard long and thick as her
wrist, bobbing and jumping wildly.  I smiled down at it and then
at her. She opened her mouth but made no sound.

	I put my hand behind her head, kissed her deeply, stripped off
her frilly gown as she lifted her arms and tossed it into the
darkness, lowered her onto her lean back, spread her legs and
mounted her quickly.  My huge root probed and prodded until, with
her trembling help, holding it just with her fingertips, it split
her lips, explored her narrow channel, stimulated her small
nubbin, and then I rammed my tongue deep into her mouth and my
phallus all the way into her tight cunny at the same time.  She
went completely rigid as my long spear made room for itself with
brute force and then she began a series of wild undulations that
nearly unseated me. I tamed her with long, steady thrusts, calmed
her with deep, tongue-sucking kisses, swived her mercilesly and
brought her quickly to a groaning and shaking climax, a spasm of
obvious and gasping delight.  I doubt that I was at her young
quim for more than four or five minutes, but they were prime
moments, every one filled with steamy effort.  I resisted the
impulse to proceed to my own completion knowing I had better
things to do.

	She sighed and collapsed under me, smiling, and I withdrew my
hard and dripping pike, wiped it on her quilt, tossed her
nightgown toward her and hurried out the door just as Mrs.
Patterson reached the foot of the stairs, candle once more in
hand.  I closed Mrs. James's door behind me and rested my back on
it, my mast poking up at an impossible angle, sore and sensitive,
as the steps went on by and the woman returned to her treasured
child, whose was likely still mewling and leaking various fluids,
spread eagled under her quilt.

	"Thought you'd left," Mrs. James said from the disordered bed
as the sun rose.

	"Call of nature," I told her truthfully as I rolled in beside
her and grasped her firm breasts, taking one with my mouth.

	"Do you have something for me this morning?" she asked. I took
her hand to my iron-hard, blood-hot member and she scratched it
very slowly, stroking the thick vein on its underside. My whole
root was wet and sticky.

	"Did you horse that stupid girl?" she asked, kneading my tender
ballocks as my overheated member flailed at her thighs, seeking
cover.

	"I gentleman never talks of such things," I said, rolling her
over and raising her rump.

	"I don't like it that way," she said, wiggling to her back and
spreading her legs impossibly wide, knees nearly flat on the bed.
I grabbed her thighs, lifted them high on my chest and thrust my
swollen pride into her gaping slot.  She groaned nicely, linked
her feet behind my head and took all I could give her for a
considerable period of time. I'm sure it was quite noisy.  There
was no way to get deeper, I am also sure, and I plunged into her
velvety depths with vigor, lifting us both at the end of each
full-bodied ram, feeling the pressure from my toes to my chest as
her rump came off the mattress.  She climaxed repeatedly;
spasming, laughing and gasping in turn.  I satisfied myself
completely, and we kissed and cuddled for a while, hoping for more.

	We were about to try another position when a clatter of hooves
stopped us.  I hurried to the window, firm but drooping, and saw
a troop of cavalrymen race into the stable yard and dismount.  A
heavy wagon followed.  The militamen huddled about the two bodies
that had spent the night out in the rain and then came into the
tavern, roaring mad and cursing foully.

	I dressed quickly, told Lizzie to get her clothes on and
stumbled down the steps.

	"That's him," a militiaman shouted, "he killed `em."  In the
brief melee that followed I earned a few bruises and a bloody
nose as well as a split lip and found myself trussed like a prize
turkey and brought before a state militia colonel who looked a
bit like a puffer pigeon.  I explained what had happened, and he
smacked me in the face with his heavy gloves. 

	"We're gonna hang you, you sniveling coward," the colonel said,
"tomorrow morning, bright and early, you'll stretch a rope."

	"What's going on?" asked a girlish voice from the stairs, and
we all turned as Suzy Patterson made her appearance, wrapped in a
blanket like an Indian maiden, golden hair scrambled and still
barefoot, the picture of desirable innocence, looking closer to
twelve than to twenty.

	I was unceremoniously dumped in a corner where my wrists were
tied behind me to my ankles, and Suzy was brought before the
officer who asked her name, smiled at her and then tore open her
blanket and held it wide.  Then he grasped her thin nighdress at
the neck and ripped it from her, handing it to the men beside
him.  He licked his lips as the naked girl stood facing him,
elbows back and hands at her groin, round breasts and soft belly
stuck out at him.

	"My, my," he said, "what have we here?  Isn't this a fine
morsel!"  He dropped the blanket and turned the girl around twice
so everyone could see her pink and white charms, her rubid
nipples and the small triangle of shining hair between her soft
thighs.  His hands roughly caressed most of her luscious body as
she rotated in them, a look of utter astonishment on her lovely
face and one or two reminders of my short time upon her printed
on her young frame. "Kneel," he said to her, bringing her down
between his widespread legs.  He dug one hand into her tousled
hair and used the other to fling open his codpiece and produce
his misshapen member, as ugly a thing as I have seen on a living
male.  It looked like a long-rotted and sun-dried apple.

	He held his ugly phallus in one hand and pinched the girl's
cheeks with the other and thus got the head of his foul cock into
her mouth.  "Suck," he commanded, and Suzy swooned.  While she
lay prostrate at his feet, I saw her open one eye and give me a
small smile.  The officer nudged her with his booted toe and then
tossed her blanket over her huddled form.

	"Get the other women down here," he ordered, and in a few
minutes the ladies and Suzy, still only blanket-clad, plus the
inn-keeper's sad-faced wife were loaded into the supply wagon
where the bodies of the two men I had knifed lay side-by-side,
face up, mouths agape.  Then they tossed me aboard, still hog-
tied, and slammed the tail gate closed.

	The troop clattered off and the wagon followed with a single
rider behind us, his horse's nose often right at the back wheel. 
We were hardly a hundred yards down the road when the man beside
the driver put down his musket and hauled Suzy up beside him,
tossed her blanket back toward the corpses, and he then raped the
girl after lifting her naked body upon his lap.  I watched Suzy's
eyes widen as he rammed into her, and she howled when he came,
sobbing on his shoulder, her arms flopping loosely and head back.
It did not take long.

	He lifted her limp frame down next to the driver and took the
reins.  The grinning driver then got the naked girl up on his
knees facing forward, unlimbered his rigid white piece which
poked up at a 45 degree angle and took her from the back, bent
double as he gripped her waist.  He enjoyed himself, actually
rearing up from his seat a time or two and crying out as if he
were urging his team to more speed, and then the two of them
lowered the weeping girl back into the wagon bed like a rag doll
with gobs of fluids oozing down her smooth thighs.  She found her
blanket and held it between her round breasts while her mother
and Mrs. James, both sitting with hands tied behind them, could
only utter sad condolences.  The girl came and hugged her mother
just as the rider behind us stepped off his horse and into the
wagon, nearly putting his boot on my knee.

	The man unbuttoned his waist wordlessly, grabbed Suzy by the
hair and pulled her up to her feet, spun her about and told her
to hold the back of the driver's seat.  Then he raped her,
ramming into her from behind so forcefully that the young woman's
feet were often in the air, kicking aimlessly while he held her
hips. She screamed steadily during the entire attack, blubbering
in panic. When he finished and withdrew, after moaning with
pleasure and spurting gobs of sperm on her back, the girl fell to
her knees, sobbing, "Please, please, please."

	The rest of the trip to the camp with relatively uneventful.

	They dumped me in the guardhouse and then brought in the women
and untied their hands.  Some food arrived and I was dragged out
and brought before the colonel again.  He accused me of murder. 
I said it was self-defense, one against four.  He laughed and
told his sergeant to tie me to the flagpole and rig up a gallows.
He also told me that after his men were done enjoying the women,
they would be put in a bawdy house his company ran. I spent the
rest of the day out in the drizzle, getting kicked and spat on
from time to time and watching men troop in and out of the small
prison shack.  I was hungry and sore by the time the sun went down.

	The inn-keeper's wife appeared out of the gloom deep in the
night, produced a small knife from her soft boot and cut me free.

	"They been taking turns on us," she whispered, "and I tole `em
I had to get to the privy."  She handed me her knife.

	"Get out in the woods, near the road," I whispered to her.
"I'll fetch you soon as I can."

	I made my way carefully to the colonel's tent, and was not
really surprised to find Suzy there, still holding her blanket
and huddled on the floor while the officer, clad only in his
shirt lay sprawled on his cot, snoring, his limp and discolored
member obviously well satisfied.  I put my finger to my lips, and
the girl sniffed and stared at me.

	The colonel awoke with a start when I pricked his neck with the
small knife's sharp point.  I explained to him, very quietly and
with no wasted words, what I expected him to do and told him, in
most graphic terms, what I would cut off if he did not follow my
instructions precisely.  

	While I stood behind him at the tent flap, he ordered his
officer of the watch to bring the other women to his tent. The
man clicked his heels and did as he was told and very soon Mrs.
James and Mrs. Patterson arrived, very disheveled and obviously
battered, looking much the worse for wear.  I disarmed the young
subaltern who brought them, gagged and tied him, checked his
pistol's pan and then poked its muzzle into the frightened
colonel's mouth.

	"We are leaving," I told him.  "If you chase after us, you will
regret it."  He nodded as best he could, and I took the barrel
from his mouth and clubbed him down.  Then I tied and gagged him
and hurried the women into the trees and off toward the road,
Suzy still clad only in a blanket and sheltered by her mother's
arm.  We found the tavern woman, and we trudged north with me
half-expecting the sound of cavalry.

	By dawn we were back at the inn, where the woman's husband
greeted his wife with hugs and where I regained possession of my
trusty bayonet.  Then we fell into bed, Suzy with her mother and
I with the major's wife, fully clothed and with no thought of
scandal even suggested. 

	In the morning, Lizzie James roused me with a question. "Will
they come here again?"

	"I hope not," I said, finding myself hard despite the previous
day's misfortunes.  

	"Suzy got the worst of that, I think," the woman said, stroking
my hairy chest.  "She'll be hard pressed to play the virgin now."

	"And you?" I asked.

	"Not so bad, poked hard two or three times, nothing really
awful, a smelly bunch that.  The Patterson woman caterwauled
something awful, threw the men off their game I think."

	"Do you want to?" I asked.

	"Can you?"  She crawled atop me and found that my mast was
stepped and ready to be rigged.  By the time we had exhausted
each other, the sun was well up and the house was stirring.

	The major's repaired carriage arrived about high noon, and we
dined and then finished the interrupted trip to Smedlyville where
I delivered my box of reports to the stage office.  The Patterson
women went on wherever they were going, and Mrs. James and I
enjoyed a tiring evening, a short night and a strenuous morning
before I went back to the war.








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