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Message-ID: <47734asstr$1083975003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 035
Lines: 174
Date: Fri,  7 May 2004 20:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 035.txt" begin>

Rebel 035 (Old Bill) (Mf hist)

Clarissa

	The small girl kneeling between my legs was nearly lost behind 
her curtain of dense brown hair.  It fell in rich and heavy strands to 
cover my belly and loins and hung over her slim shoulders and well 
down her back.  She was bent there, one hand on my upper thigh, 
trying to revive my wilted prod, sucking it deep into her throat, 
stroking it steadily with her rough tongue and kneading my ballocks 
gently with her fingers. 

	I petted her head and sighed, enjoying the efforts but 
knowing they were useless.  I had horsed her so thoroughly that it 
would likely be an hour or so before I was useful to any woman.  
"Give it up," I whispered hoarsely as she circled my shaft's soft head 
with her flickering tongue.

	She let it plop from her lips and crawled up to lie on me with 
the flaccid thing trapped between our warm bodies.

	"Who taught you to do that?" I asked quietly, my hand 
cupping her firm young buttocks.  I pulled her a bit higher and got 
my middle finger into her narrow slit.  She was a very small girl, 
barely five feet high and surely not seven stone.  But, with some 
effort and a bit of pain, she had managed to get most of my phallus 
into her cunny and to make sounds that indicated she enjoyed what 
we were doing while I rammed it in and out of her.

	"My brother," she said, her mouth at my neck, hair flowing 
everywhere.

	"Eh?" I said, brightly, wiggling my longest finger into her a bit 
deeper and seeking her engorged nub with my forefinger.

	"Oh," she said, shuddering when I found it and stroked it.  
"He's the only man I've had, other than his friends I mean, and you, 
of course."  She sighed.  "I've never had a man like you.  You're 
immense, like all the others put together." She trembled under my 
prying hands.

	"Your brother?"

	"Yes," she nodded and nibbled at me.  "I was eleven when he 
came to my bed.  He was thirteen or fourteen I suppose.  He taught 
me."

	I pulled out my finger and rolled her beside me where I could 
see her.  She was a lovely little thing, dark eyed and petite with a 
soft mouth and a willing nature, a doll, a living, breathing, wildly 
rogering doll.  We lay nose to nose, enjoying the warmth of the big 
bed. She was probably sixteen, but a drink at her well had led to a 
meal at her table and a romp in her bed with few pauses for thought 
between.

	"What's that noise?" she asked.

	"George and your maid," I said, listening to the steady groan 
of a bed on the floor above and the series of unending grunts and 
squeals.  "He's nearly tireless."

	"Poor Jennie," the girl said.

	"She'll remember him." I said.  "Now tell me more about your 
brother."

	"Oh, he kissed me and felt me all over, pawed me and licked 
me, put his tongue in me.  It was a game.  I suppose it was a year or 
so before he deflowered me, right after I had started my courses.  
That was a bit frightening.  I bled."

	"Why did he do it?"

	"We were alone, living with an uncle, both parents dead, the 
fever.  So we comforted each other.  That was his way.  I, I, well, I 
didn't know it was wrong, not then I didn't.  I do now, but he 
won't stop."

	"And he still does it?"

	"Oh yes, and sometimes brings his friends in the legion."

	"The Loyal Legion?"

	She nodded.

	"Where do they meet?" I asked as innocently as I could since 
destroying that rapacious gang was very high on our list.  Foster 
might give me back my stripes for information about them.

	"Here sometimes," she said, sliding her hand down to cup my 
wasted stones.  "In Miller's Woods usually.  He's a lieutenant, 
Bobby is."

	"And he brings his friends home to lie with you?"

	"To poke me.  He watches and eggs them on, laughing.  I 
don't like it much when he does that.  He drinks.  They all do."

	From the attic came the sounds of George reaching his long-
delayed climax and growling out his pleasure with a series of throaty 
roars.

	"We have to be going?" I said.

	"Thought you'd spend the night at least," the girl said, her 
mound rubbing furiously on my thigh and hip.

	"Another time."

	She kissed me and stuck her tongue in my mouth.

	I pulled away, dressed quickly and found George stumbling 
down the stairs.  "The Legion," he said.  "She tole me `bout them."

	As we reached the top of the main staircase, a door slammed 
open down below and someone called, "Clary, Clary!  Where the 
hell are you?"

	Four well-dressed young men wearing swords came into the 
hall below us.  They looked up.  I vaulted the railing and dropped 
feet first among them, flattening two and kicking one aside.  The 
melee that followed was short and bloody, and George and I 
quickly had two bruised prisoners and two dead bodies as well as 
four good purses on our side of the ledger. The legion's officer 
corps had been cut in half.

	Tiny Clarissa and her disheveled maid appeared on the steps, 
both in just their shifts, quilts about their shoulders.

	"This your brother?" I asked, holding a slight man with dark 
hair against the wall by the neck. He looked a bit like her, very soft 
indeed, a sneering mouth.

	She nodded, and I tossed her his sword.  "He won't be 
needing this," I told her.  "Sorry about the mess."

	The women stood, big-eyed, holding each other while George 
and I trussed up our prisoners, and I let him take them out to the 
barn while I dragged the corpses from the front hall.

	Clarissa, more or less dressed, met us in the barn as we got 
ready to leave.  "What's going to happen?" she asked, her hand on 
her brother's boot,

	"They'll get a trial," I said.  "Then they'll hang."

	"Hang?" she said, touching her lips.

	"Rape.  Murder.  Arson.  I'd do it now if you weren't here."

	She looked up at her brother.  "Bobby?" she said.

	"Stupid bitch, trollop," he called her.

	We hauled them off and never got back to that house.  One 
hanged, and I shot the brother after he had dangled for half an 
hour, gagging and kicking.  I felt I owed the little girl that much.
	


<1st attachment end>


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