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Message-ID: <47587asstr$1082747401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel part 25
Lines: 531
Date: Fri, 23 Apr 2004 15:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 025.txt" begin>

Rebel 025 (Old Bill)  (MF hist)

The Widow and Her Daughter
 	
	The officers had commandeered a big, brick house with four 
chimneys and white trim as headquarters.  I was doing guard duty 
in front of the place when these two women appeared, both well-
dressed and well worth looking at.  Admirable is what they were, 
stunners.

	"This is my house," the older, darker-haired woman said.  
"Stand aside."  

	I did as she demanded, and she stomped up the steps followed 
by the younger, lighter-haired woman who was carrying a valise and 
who looked at me very coolly as she passed, lifting her chin.  She 
smelled awful good, and I felt my member tingle when she essayed a 
very small smile as she went by.

	It turned out that in fact the woman did own the house as the 
widow of the farmer whose land spread for hundreds of acres around 
us and included a good hardwood stand and a decrepit mill.  The 
officers crowded together a bit, put their orderlies out in the 
hall and stairwells and let the females have back the biggest 
bedroom.  Every man there made a heavy-handed play for both of the 
women and all of them were rejected firmly and politely so I was 
surprised when the younger woman found me in the camp one day when 
we were packing up our gear to get back on the road.  She said 
that her mother would like to see me.

	"How'd you remember me?" I asked her as we walked back and I 
admired her straight back and flowing hair.  Her stride was nearly 
as long as mine.

	"You are rather large," she said with a laugh.

	"Oh." I said, brightly.

	The woman sat on a small chair near the window.  She was 
wearing a dark dress, as she had been when I first saw her, and a 
gray scarf of some sort lay around her neck and shoulders.

	"Your army is moving on we are told," she said to me.

	I stood and waited, enjoying the sight of them both and the 
smell of the room.  Lilac, I decided.

	"We have been convinced that we should not stay here as the 
British advance," she said and her daughter nodded agreement.

	"We have a carriage and a tenant house up in the hills a 
ways."

	I kept listening and wondering.

	"Your officer, Foster is it, has agreed to let you drive us 
there, trailing a horse, and then you may rejoin the army after we 
are out of harm's way."

	"Yes'm," I said, wondering what Lt. Foster was thinking about 
since I was sure he had made bold efforts to bed both of these 
females over the past week.  He never passed up a chance to get 
laid, and he was often successful.

	"I requested your services since you are about the size of 
her late father and can wear his clothes in case we are stopped 
along the way.  You'll not be taken prisoner, we hope."

	"It's dangerous for soldiers to be out of uniform," I said 
and saw the girl raise an eyebrow at her mother. My uniform was 
not much to speak of or brag about.

	"Just so," said the woman, "it's a dangerous world.  Anna, 
show him the clothes."

	The girl went to a big chest in the well of a window and 
there, neatly folded, were suits of wool clothing, mostly dark.

	"Take your choice," said the girl, holding back the lid while 
our bodies almost touched.  I could sense her warmth.

	I drew out a dark brown coat with long skirts and a pair of 
lighter-colored breeches.

	"Get a shirt and some good stockings," said the woman, who 
was now standing just behind me.

	I did.

	"Well," the woman said, "let's not waste time.  Get dressed.  
Let's see if they fit."

	I looked from woman to woman, shrugged and drew my shirt over 
my head and donned the fine, soft, almost-new one with its full 
sleeves and long ties at the throat.  I pulled off my boots and 
ratty stockings, hesitated, glanced at the older woman, turned my 
back and stripped off my britches.  The shirt tail was long enough 
to give me some privacy as I pulled on the new pants, stuffed in 
the shirt and buttoned up the waistband.  The clothes were bit 
snug, but they fit.  I turned around, holding in my stomach.

	"See," said the younger woman, "he's just Father's size."

	"A bit taller," said the older woman.  "I'm Mrs. Pierce," she 
said, offering me her firm hand while I stood barefoot before her.  
"Honesty Pierce.  They call me Tee.  You may call me Mrs. Pierce.  
And this is my youngest, Annalee. We call her Anna usually. Two of 
her brothers are in your army and the other is on a ship 
somewhere, a warship, privateer.  Anna is my youngest, just 
sixteen last month."

	The younger woman gave me a slight curtsey and a grin.

	We got on the road with their light rig, a pair of chestnut 
mares and two big trunks of whatever they had packed.  They were 
dry-eyed and did not look back.  I had a brief meeting with my 
officer who told me to do my job and behave myself.  He said that 
both women were dried up old maids and cold as ice in his opinion.

	Four hours later we stopped, the women produced food from one 
of their trunks, and we ate in relative silence.  Another four 
hours, following shouted directions from Mrs. Pierce, and we came 
to a well-made cabin on a hillside from which you could see the 
river as a silver ribbon far below.

	"We raised sheep at one time," the woman explained as she 
dusted and unpacked in the musty dwelling.  I started a fire in 
the hearth and saw to the horses.

	By night fall, they were settled in, and we ate a hot meal 
and sat around the sturdy table looking at each other by 
firelight.

	"I hope you can stay a few days," the woman said, "just to 
make sure this is a safe place."

	"Be happy to," I said.  "This here is a lot easier than 
soldiering."

	"Do you snore," the girl asked with a wicked grin.

	"Been told I do," I said.

	"Father did, something awful," she said. She smiled and 
looked at her mother.

	"I can sleep in the shed with the horses," I offered.

	"No such thing," said the woman.  "We've room, and if you 
make too much noise, one of us will be sure to kick you."  She 
laughed.  "As you can see, the beds are just pallets."

	"Going to be a cold night," I said, listening to the wind.  
"I'll get in some more firewood.

	By  the time I split some and returned with an armload, the 
daughter was in bed with her back to the room and her mother sat 
at the table, brushing her hair and wearing a long nightshirt of 
linsey-woolsey.

	"Aren't your feet cold?" I asked, looking at her bare toes.

	She smiled and brushed while I built up the fire.  I came and 
sat beside her, our hips touched.

	"She's a sound sleeper," the woman said, nodding at her 
daughter.

	"Is she?" I said.  She raked her hair back.  It fell nearly 
to her waist.

	"Um," she said, putting down her brush and turning to welcome 
me in her arms.  We kissed gently and at some length. I pulled her 
onto my lap and my free hand explored her body starting at her 
knee and working its way north under her gown.

	"He's been dead nearly half a year," she said, her head on my 
s
 houlder, my hand in the middle of her back.

	"You're still in mourning?"

	She nodded.

	"No more talk," she said in a whisper.  She stood and led me 
to the other bed.  She rolled in on the thin, straw mattress and 
waited, lying on her back, her eyes open, while I undressed.

	We caressed each other for a bit, and then I mounted her.  
She pressed her face tightly against my chest, and I felt her 
mouth open as our pace increased to throbbing expectancy.  She was 
well into her forties I suppose, but she felt a generation 
younger, girlishly eager and surprising tight for a woman who had 
borne children. We slowed and then stopped, and I rolled off.  She 
turned with an arm and a leg across my body and her mouth at my 
ear and knee at my prick. 	

	"Ah," she sighed.  "Wonderful.  I'd `most forgotten."

	"Again," I said to her mouth, my hand on the small of her 
back.

	"Soon," she gasped quietly, shivering in my grasp.

	We did it like that, on our sides, holding tightly to each 
other and finally dying together after what seemed hours of giving 
and taking.  We had wriggled and squirmed and shushed each other, 
grappling with our legs, until we were completely spent.

	In the morning Anna stood by the bed, looking down at her 
sleeping mother and then at me while I lay on my back holding my 
erection down against my belly.  The girl smiled before she went 
out to the necessary.  

	I rolled out, built up the fire and followed her outside 
wearing just my shirt and boots, hard and eager.  She was waiting 
in the shelter of the stable, her arms folded across her chest.

	"You'll freeze out here," I said, putting my hand on her 
shoulder, brushing back her long hair.

	"I'm a virgin," she said quietly.  She knelt before me.  My 
hands filled with her hair.  I gasped and my knees almost buckled 
while she tried to satisfy my needs with her mouth and hands; lips 
stroking, tongue circling, throat sucking, fingers kneading.  I 
shook, both my hands holding her shoulders, my breath coming in 
irregular gasps while she snorted through her nose.  When I 
finally shuddered to a conclusion, she stood and kissed me, licked 
her mouth and smiled.

	"I plan to stay a virgin," she said, leaning back in my grasp 
while I ground her body against mine.

	That day I worked chopping firewood and doing some repairs on 
the stable.  One cabin window was broken, and I boarded that up 
and mended some loose shingles, while the women swept and cleaned.  
After we ate, I went out and did some hunting and by dark brought 
back a gutted, young deer.  We ate venison steaks after I 
butchered up the carcass, some to smoke and the rest to make jerky 
with.  When I went out after dinner to feed the horses, there were 
campfires in the valley, a lot of them.

	I called the women out and showed them. " Germans," I said, 
"see how orderly the rows are.  I don't think you can stay here.  
They'll see your smoke and come to investigate."  We could see 
small, dark figures moving in front of the fires.

	"Damn," the woman said, wringing her hands.

	"What can we do?" Anna asked, her hand touching mine.

	I did not know.  The enemy's camp lay between us and 
Washington's retreating army.  "We can go north and then cross the 
stream where it's shallow and come back on the other side, beyond 
those hills where the sun is sinking.  I suppose it will be safe," 
I said.  "Do you know the roads?" I asked the woman.

	She shook her head.

	"Let's get started while we have some light," I said as I 
headed for the stable.  "Pack up some food and get on warm 
clothes.  Make a couple of blanket rolls.  I've got mine."

	I only found one old, dirty saddle so I threw it on the 
larger of the two carriage horses and got her ready to ride.  She 
eyed me suspiciously and tried to spit out the bit, but in a half 
hour with my mare carrying the two women and my reluctant animal 
packing our gear as well as me, we headed down the backside of our 
hill, away from the Hessians and north toward the deeper woods.

	When the moon rose, we made better time along the well-used 
trail and rode until Anna said, "Your horse is going lame."

	We stopped and I pried a stone out of her shoe.  It was 
probably two or three in the morning so we hobbled the animals, 
rolled up together in two blankets and all three of us were asleep 
in minutes with Honesty's hand on my shoulder.

	Hoofbeats awoke us in the pre-dawn haze.  They were heavy and 
there were many of them.  We got our horses untied and led them 
deeper into the woods, crouching in the underbrush while a cavalry 
troop thundered past.

	"Now what?" whispered the woman, her hand trembling on my 
shoulder.

	"We can't use the road, the trail," I said.  "We'll go 
downhill to the creek and follow that."

	"What creek?" Anna asked.

	"There's always a creek at the bottom of almost every hill."  
I got us moving, breaking the trail with the help of my heavy 
bayonet and the women followed, trusting me.

	I never saw the man that hit me in the head and then 
bayoneted me high in the back, his pointed sticker glancing off my 
shoulder blade and tearing a six inch gouge in my skin and muscle.  
When I struggled back to consciousness, a woman was screaming 
somewhere nearby.  I put my hand to the back of my right shoulder 
and it came away sticky with almost dried blood.  I flexed and 
shrugged that side of my body and the shoulder shivered with pain, 
but nothing was broken as far as I could tell.  There were an 
oozing cut and a swelling on the back of my head, and my boots 
were missing, but other than that I seemed all right.  The woman 
screamed again and yelled, "No, No."  It sounded like Anna.  I 
remembered the first time I had seen enemy soldiers raping women.

	I found my bayonet in the weeds, crawled toward the sound of 
crying and came across Honesty's torn and naked body.  Her thighs 
were bruised and bloody and her throat had been cut.  Her dark 
hair covered most of her ruined face.  There were rope burns on 
her wrists.  I wondered how long I had been unconscious as the 
girl screamed again and then made an odd, gulping sound and was 
quiet.

	"Verdamnt," someone said in guttural tones.

	Around a small fire sat a group of soldiers in black 
uniforms, large men with fierce mustaches.  On the other side of 
the fire sprawled Anna, lying on her face, naked and bloody with a 
man standing between her legs and buttoning his britches.  I shook 
my head since I was seeing double at least and counted the men 
again, four or five I decided, probably just four and unarmed as 
far as I could tell, their jackets open.  They were passing a 
bottle back and forth.

	I took stock, resisting an urge to vomit.  Anna was no longer 
a virgin and her mother was dead.  My head was cracked open and my 
shoulder torn.  I still had my blade bayonet and some ammunition, 
but that was all. I listened to the Germans talking, laughing and 
smoking around their fire.  They seemed to be in no hurry to go 
anywhere.  I made my way around the outside of the clearing and 
found where they had picketed their horses.

	The girl screamed again.  "No, please," she yelled and then 
there was a sharp slap and deep sobs mixed with some heavy 
breathing and a male yelp of triumph.  "Ja, ja," he cried.

	I took the Germans' short muskets from their scabbards and 
loaded and primed all four of them, trying not to hear Anna's 
pitiful cries and the steady grunts of her attacker.  I pulled the 
horses' reins free, got two muskets hooked behind my left shoulder 
by their slings and one on my right side, ignoring the pain.  Then 
I lashed and yelled at the mounts, driving them straight at the 
resting cavalrymen and hoping the girl would not be trampled.  I 
followed the horses, bent low and shot the nearest man as he 
stood, dropped that weapon as he spun around screaming. shrugged 
the next from my right shoulder and almost fainted.  The horses 
galloped past the fire and on into the woods.  I stumbled, dropped 
to one knee and fired, bringing down another man although I had no 
idea where I hit him since pain had clouded my vision for a moment 
with a red haze.  I spat, got a weapon from my left side, stood 
and ran at the man who was just disengaging himself from the pale 
girl crouched before him.  I shot him in the belly, dropped beside 
the moaning woman and looked for the fourth man while her rapist 
squealed in pain, rocking on his back and kicking his feet.

	"Oh, oh, oh," Anna said over and over, one hand covering her 
face and her long legs rubbing against each other.  "They killed 
her; they killed her," she moaned.  Her other hand was on the end 
of a long rope tied to a tree.  Her nose was bleeding.

	A twig snapped and the brush rustled behind me.  I stood 
quickly and fired at a shadow.  No sound followed so I dropped the 
musket, pulled my blade and ran toward the woods.  "Look out!" the 
girl screamed, and I turned just as a black uniformed man lunged 
at me with a saber in his hand.  He was nearly my size and had 
foul breath and a black mustache.  He must have thrown a stone 
into the woods to distract me.  We grappled, kicked and struggled 
until he pulled a hand loose and swung at my belt.  I twisted 
free, taking the blow on the hip and then tore him open from belly 
to chin, spilling his guts out on the ground in rolling coils.  He 
fell, trying to hold himself together and screaming.  I wiped my 
blade on his shoulder and put it away.

	I limped back to check the bodies and found one of the men I 
had shot was still breathing, holding his ruined shoulder and 
moaning with part of his jaw shot away.  I stripped off his 
jacket, ignoring his gasps of pain.  I pulled off his boots, undid 
his waist and yanked off his britches.  He kicked his feet and 
yelled.  I took the girl the blood-stained clothes while he tried 
to crawl away.  I could not see any way to reload one of the short 
muskets, since all the ammunition for them was wherever the horses 
had gone and my musket balls were too big.  I went back to the 
wounded German, kicked him to make him turn over and then put a 
knee on his chest and crudely emasculated him, ignoring his 
clawing and begging.  Blood gushed from between his legs and he 
screamed until he died with his ballocks and shrunken member in 
his hand.  It did not take long.

	 Without saying anything to each other. the girl and I helped 
each other down the hill to the creek I had promised would be 
there.  Despite the cool breeze, she stripped off her clothes and 
walked to midstream, splashing water on herself and washing her 
groin and thighs carefully, dunking herself over and over to the 
waist, her lower lip grasped in her teeth.  I sat and watched her, 
admiring her slim body and her stoic bravery.  Her breasts showed 
scratches and bite marks, and her cheek was bruised.  She dried 
herself as best she could with the britches and then got back into 
the dead German's oversized clothes.

	Then she helped me get my shirt off and looked at my shoulder 
wound.  "It's not bleeding much, more like a tear, but it ought to 
be sewed up," she said lightly touching the area.  My butt 
reminded me of the other wound, and I got to my knees, pulled down 
my breeches and showed her that.

	She smiled.  "You sure are hairy," she said, "and that's a 
nasty slice.  Needs a bandage.  I can't tell how deep it is."  I 
gave her my knife, and she cut off the left arm off my shirt and 
tied it around my thigh, ignoring my privates as she did her work.  
Then she cut off the shirt's other sleeve, ripped it lengthwise 
and made a sling for my right arm.  It felt a lot better held 
against my body.

	She bent over and wept, her face in her hands.  "They killed 
her, just killed her," she moaned.  "Poor momma."  I patted her 
and put my left arm around her shoulders.  "We've got to bury 
her," she said between sobs.

	"I'm not much for digging right now," I said.

	"Guess not," she agreed, wiping her face and smiling at me.  
"We're both a mess."

	I cut myself a stout walking stick, and we made our way back 
up the hill and found her mother's body.  The bandage had slipped 
off and I could feel blood running down my leg from the hip wound.  
"Guess we could try to cremate her," I said since we had no tools 
and I doubted I could scratch out much of a hole one-handed.  She 
was not a very big woman, perhaps six or seven stone.

	"Fire might attract more Germans," she said.

	"Lot of brush and things are pretty dry.  Fires are common."

	She nodded and we started gathering wood.  We made a bed of 
deadfall beside the woman's body and then rolled her atop it, face 
down.  I broke open several musket loads and sprinkled gunpower on 
her body while her daughter raked back her mother's tangled hair.  
We piled brush and wood on her lean corpse until she was 
thoroughly covered, and then I got a fire started with one of the 
German flintlocks.  When we both were sure it had caught in 
several places, we bowed our heads and then left quickly as the 
flickering flames and oily smoke rose.

	"It was the best we could do," she said with a sniff as we 
headed back down the hill, hoping we would find either our horses 
or one of the enemy's.

We found neither and slept in each other's arms that night with 
just our clothes and some leaves for shelter.  In the morning my 
horse was drinking at the stream with my bedroll and musket still 
attached to his saddle.  She looked as happy to see me as I was to 
see her.

	We followed the creek, taking turns in the saddle, and when 
we got out in the open, we rode tandem with Anna tucked in my lap 
and massaging my member and thighs with her firm buttocks.  Hunger 
came and went, leaving emptiness behind, but as the sun set we 
were forced to stop. I threw stones at birds, chipmunks, squirrels 
and other critters until one rabbit zigged the wrong way and my 
hard-thrown rock brought him down.  I skinned him in record time 
and had him over our small fire for Anna to tend while I went back 
to try and fail again.  We shared the hare, drank from my canteen 
and rolled up together in my blanket after being sure the horse 
could graze but not wander too far.

	"These clothes itch," she said, squirming and shucking out of 
them.  I held her naked body and enjoyed the warmth of her skin, 
imploring my prod to behave itself and getting mixed signals in 
return.

	"I thought they'd killed you," she whispered.  "You must have 
been unconscious for four or five hours."

	"I'm sorry," I said, holding her close and patting her long 
hair, raking it down her back.

	"Momma never stopped fighting them, even after the first one 
violated me."  She trembled and sniffed.  "They hit her, tied her 
to a tree and then did her while she was hurt, maybe even passed 
out.  When she started kicking and flailing again, they, they 
killed her and tossed her body in the weeds.  Then they took turns 
on me."

	"I'm sorry," I said again, stroking her back.

	"They all did it the same way, from the back, and they 
commented and joked about the one poking me, sometimes counting in 
cadence.  I think they were drunk.  They smelled awful."  She wept 
and shook.  I kissed her forehead.  "I was sure they were going to 
kill me.  They even poked me in the arse.  It hurt."

	"You were probably right.  That's what they would have done," 
I said.  "Go to sleep."

	"No," she sighed, wriggling against my growing need.  "It 
doesn't matter now."

	"No," I said.   I rolled to my back and held her atop me, 
quivering in my grasp, her knees down at my hips and her face on 
my chest.  She was crying, and I could feel her tears.

	"That feels good," she said, breathing deeply as my hard prod 
sank into her violated body.  "Very good."

	I think we slept. I certainly do not recall anything that 
could be called rogering that night.  In the morning we got back 
on the patient horse and went to find Washington's army.	

	It was easy.  We just followed the trail of discarded 
equipment and two days later, we found Anna's oldest brother in a 
New York company.  They embraced, and Anna introduced me and said 
nice things about my behavior.  I told the boy I was sorry about 
his mother, and he held my hand and nodded.  I left the girl in 
his care and went back to the war.
<1st attachment end>


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