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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 048 The Sisters (MFf hist)
Lines: 225
Date: Wed, 19 May 2004 16:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 048.txt" begin>

Rebel II 048 (MFf hist)

The Sisters

	The fight had been short and vicious, and when it was over, I 
lay in a ditch of muddy water with a searing wound in my left 
shoulder, a shoulder which had been injured before, and an ankle 
swollen to twice it usual size.  I smelled smoke and levered myself up 
to see that off to the east, the woods were on fire.  Screams told me 
that wounded men were being burned alive, and the smell told me 
that human flesh was roasting, dead or living.  I sat up, found the 
tampion in my pocket and shoved it into the muzzle of my filthy 
musket.  Then I got going, away from the spreading flames, using 
my weapon as a crutch when there was no tree to grab. I might 
have fainted once or twice, but the fire's smell roused me and 
stumbled me on, driven by fear. 

	I came to a fast running creek and stopped to soak my ankle 
for a bit as the wind shifted to move the fire away from my path.  
My whole foot was purple and bloated, and my toes looked like 
toadstools.  I discarded my boot and moved on.  The cottage I 
found was the home of two women, sisters, who took me in despite 
their obvious misgivings.  They fed me, cleaned my wounds, sewed 
up my shoulder and looked at my grotesque foot in wonder.  I slept 
fitfully and woke wondering if my right foot was going to explode.  
The swelling was now well up my leg and reddish green and well as 
bluish purple.

	Annabelle was twenty or so and Cissy was about sixteen I 
suppose.  Pleasant looking young women in homespun and wooden 
clogs, poor frontier farmers on a hardscrabble piece of land.  They 
had a few goats and some chickens that lived in a lean-to attached to 
their board house with its stone and wattle chimney.  Since I had 
taken over one bed, they slept huddled together on the other, 
covered with worn quilts, and when I opened my eyes, and the pain 
returned, I admired their courage and stubbornness as they rose to 
stir up the fire and face another day.

	I hobbled out to share their gruel and then get myself outside 
to their makeshift privy.  They told me, more or less, where I was 
and said they had heard some gunfire recently but were not able to 
say how close it was.  The British and Germans had not bothered 
them, but some militia had visited a while back so they told me, 
glancing at each other and saying no more about that.  I assumed it 
had not been a polite visit.  Two women alone in the woods were 
seldom safe when soldiers were about.  

	The second morning I was with them, all three of us were 
jolted awake by someone pounding on the door and cursing.  
Annabelle got an old blunderbuss from next to the fireplace, and I 
roused myself to prime my carefully-cleaned musket.  The door 
splintered and two large Redcoats burst in, tore the gun from the 
frightened woman and clubbed me upside the head before any of us 
fully were awake.

	I dragged myself up to consciousness, aware of a girl 
screaming, "Don't, don't, don't."  Across from me on the other bed 
a redcoated soldier with his buff britches down about his knees was 
thrusting himself into Annabelle who was kicking and struggling 
beneath him despite having her shoulders pinned under his 
outstretched hands.  The man grunted and clenched his jaw as he 
finished what he was doing and then clambered off and glanced at 
me while he pulled up his trousers and looked for his belt.  I kept my 
eyes half-closed and tried to figure out why my body was not doing 
what I asked of it.

	The Redcoat stumbled out the broken door where the girl as 
still tremulously pleading, "Don't, don't."  Annabelle sat up, pulled 
down her torn shift and looked at me.  I opened my eyes and she 
scrambled to my side.

	"You're not dead," she whispered, a trickle of blood pulsing 
from her torn lip.  "We've got to help Cissy."

	I just stared at her, and she felt around under the bed, found 
my big bayonet and cut me loose.  I sat up and shook my head and 
then wished I had not done that.  I touched my cheek and felt the 
swelling alongside my eye.

	"Help her," Annabelle pleaded, kneeling before me.  I found 
my musket, checked the priming and clamped on my blade, a bit 
unsteady but upright, all my weight on one foot and not seeing very 
clearly.

	"How many?" I asked, leaning beside the open door.

	"Three or four," she whispered, arming herself with her 
carving knife.

	"Get the girl back in here if you can," I said.  "Ready?"

	She nodded, and I wondered if I was.  I swung my leg, 
stepped outside and saw the girl kneeling at the well, nearly naked 
and down on all fours, blood on her white thighs.  The man who 
had been raping her was just standing, putting his limp member 
away when I stumbled toward him and thrust into his back.  I 
steadied myself as he screamed and twisted, pulled my blade loose 
and turned to face the soldier I had seen rogering the woman in the 
house.  I shot him squarely in the chest, blowing him right off his feet 
as two more Redcoats came running from the back of the house, 
neither of them armed.  I smashed one in the face with the butt of 
my gun and tore the other's throat open with a slash of my big 
blade.  Then I skewered the man I had knocked down and except 
for the sobbing girl in her torn shift and the bleating goats, it was 
suddenly very quiet.  I put some weight on my injured ankle and 
collapsed by the bleeding bodies in the dirt.  Everything hurt.

	The man by the well moaned, and I crawled over to him, 
pulled his spike bayonet from his belt and drove it through his neck.  
He spouted dark blood and was quiet after that.

	The women hauled the bodies away after we stripped them.  
One on each foot, they pulled them to a deep ravine and rolled them 
over the edge.  I spent the time binding up my ankle with a wrap 
made from a dead man's shirt.  Annebelle comforted her sniffling 
sister.

	"That's the second time she's been poked," the woman said.  
"Damn animals."

	We ate something and she tucked the girl into bed.  Annebelle 
and I sat by the well, sharing a pipe as the sun set.  "Only one of 
them did me," she said.  "I think two raped her, poor thing.  Last 
time it was half a dozen at least, just tore at us both.  She was a 
virgin too, back then.  Local boys it was, men we knew, some of 
them"

	"Damn shame," I said, admiring her lush body and stern 
courage.

	"She'll think that's all there is, just grunting and poking."

	I nodded.

	"Maybe when she's feeling better, you could, you know, show 
her."

	"Me," I said, "I'm not fit for any such work.  Can't even 
walk."

	"Killed four men in a minute or two today.  I watched from the 
door, knife in my hand.  Couldn't believe it, how fast you were."

	"Me or them," I said.

	"It got you hard, that fight.  I noticed." She smiled at me.

	"Yes," I said.  "Well, couldn't be helped."

	"That man that did me, he satisfied himself," she said.

	"I suppose," I replied, blowing out a cloud of aromatic smoke.

	"What do I got to do, spell it out for you?" she asked, looking 
annoyed.

	I pulled her face to me and kissed her gently.  It was the only 
way I could kiss her, beat up as I was.  She kissed me back hard, 
biting my lip, sticking her tongue down my throat.

	"I'll get a quilt," she said.

	She found a place under some trees that was not too lumpy, 
and I hobbled after her.  We knelt and undressed each other and 
then joined our bodies eagerly and, pretty soon, fiercely, with me 
digging my good foot into the dirt as I lunged into her grasping 
softness and she clawed at my bare back.   She came with a shudder 
and a groan, gasping out as series of snorting yeses and heaving her 
hips up against me, grinding us together.  We rested and then did it 
again, cuddled together in warmth and satisfaction, and after a 
while, as the moon rose, she stroked me up to erectness and 
mounted my silvery shaft, sitting astride my loins while I held her 
firm breasts and she rogered me until she quivered with release and 
fell to my chest, dying with joy.  Then we made our way back to the 
cabin, she supporting my weight, and rolled into bed together.

	In the gray morning, despite my body's aches, my huge rod 
arose, and I pulled the young woman to me, got her leg atop mine 
and, with her help, squeezed the head of my mast between her 
pursed and wrinkled lips and then pushed the swollen root straight 
up into her.  She sighed and shook as it drove deeper and deeper, 
growing even bigger as our juices began to lubricate our passion.  I 
grabbed her buttocks and rolled to my back as she lunged back and 
forth on my blood-hot pole.  We reached our peak almost together, 
and I enjoyed myself in her again before I was spent.  Then she 
untangled herself from me and stirred up the fire.  On the other side 
of the cabin, I saw Cissy's eyes, but I did not know how long she 
had been watching.

	A few days later, when I told the women I had to get back to 
my company, back to the war, Anna came to me at night, made love 
to me and whispered, "You must do the girl before you leave, 
gently, sweetly."

	"Might hurt her," I sighed as my aching ballocks responded to 
her kneading and my mast rose again.

	"You can do it," she said, "Please."

	So I did.  The girl probably did not weight more than six or 
seven stone, but I petted her and got up on my lap with her back to 
me, notched my upright prod into her narrow slit and let her ride 
me until she came, bent over, her small breasts in my hands, her 
whole body quivering with delight. She put her feet down, turned 
about and wiggled aboard again, and after, a short rest and some 
serious kissing, we did it that way, made the beast with two backs 
and lost ourselves in each other.

	Then I left. 

	

<1st attachment end>


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