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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 060 Naval (MFf)
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Date: Thu, 27 May 2004 16:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 060.txt" begin>

Rebel 060 (Old Bill) (MFf hist)

Naval Matters

"My, my," said Madam Von R--, "you must have been on your best 
behavior.  The lady has nothing but praise for you and would like to 
borrow you and the carriage again on Sunday.  Can you manage 
that?" She lifted an eyebrow.

	"Might fit it into my busy schedule," I said.

	"She's a beauty, isn't she?"

	"All of that," I said as my prod tingled hopefully.

	I arrived at the proper house, as instructed, on a bright and 
chilly Sunday morning, cleanly shaved and neatly dressed.  The 
stately woman appeared in traveling costume with a frilly girl at her 
side.  I bowed to them both as I held the door aside.

	"This Mary Elizabeth," said Mrs. T--.  "She is my niece, my late 
husband's elder brother's child who has been visiting here and 
there."  The girl curtsied at me and smiled warmly, playing the 
coquette.  She was an over-ripe thirteen or a slowly developing 
sixteen, ready to pluck my comrades would have noted, ripe 
enough, a pretty little thing in a very low-cut but overly-ornate 
dress and foolishly-beribboned bonnet.

	The women stepped up and arranged their clothes and, in 
time, I delivered them at the waterfront where they were met, after 
a short wait, by a young naval officer who doffed his hat, made a 
leg and glared at me.  He escorted them to a gig with a half dozen 
uniformed oarsmen, and off they went toward a black-sided ship 
anchored well off the island.  "We are in for a day of navy frivolity," 
the woman had told me as we awaited her escort.  

	"Oh yes," said the young girl, "music and dancing and a fine 
meal."

	The lieutenant who met them did not strike me as the frivolous 
type but that was hardly my affair.  I found a nearby hostler to look 
after the team and headed for the nearest tavern.  Several beers 
later, a group of tars entered and took a table near me.  As they 
drank and laughed and pinched the tavern girls, I could hardly help 
but overhear the main topic of their conversation.  I took up my beer 
and went to their table, plunked down a crown before the bearded 
one who seemed to be their leader and said, "That's for a round 
and a question, if you will?"

	He made the coin disappear and looked at me coldly.

	"Heard you discussing a pair of women you rowed out to that 
ship," I said.

	"Wot of it?" he asked as the others leaned back quietly.

	"I brought them here," I said, "wondered how long they 
might be out there?"

	"Haw," he laughed, "`Ard t'tell.  Les' see," he counted on his 
fingers.  "If the doctor joins, it's ten a'them," he scratched his head.  
"Some a them friggin' midshipmen might get it up two or three times, 
eh Charlie?"

	Charlie nodded and smiled at me.

	"Y'eard a'floggin' around the fleet, mate?" the sailor asked me.

	I nodded.

	"Well this `ere some calls fuckin' round the wardroom."

	I looked at him blankly I suppose.

	"There's the cap'n hissef," he said, "four lieutenants including 
the firs' mate, three midshipmen; that's eight ain'?  An' the doctor 
and the master.  That makes ten."

	"And?" I asked.

	"They's goin' to swive them birds, one right ater t'other, there 
in the cap'n's cabin, goin' about the big table I `spect, takin' turns, 
`till they's plum wore out or the decanters is empty."

	 I waited, trying not to show my anger.

	"Might take two or three hours, mate," he said.  "We had four 
girls out there las' Sunday.  Y'should'a heerd `em squeal.  Young 
`uns they was, like that pink one y'brought t'day, but I fink they 
was all friskers."

	I thought of Mary Elizabeth, assumed she was a virgin and in 
danger of losing her cherry in a most unfortunate manner.  For some 
reason, I felt responsible having delivered them to the navy.

	"Thank you," I said and went back to my own table, ignoring 
the crude laughs behind me.  I downed my beer and went outside 
quickly.  A short way down the pier, I saw a small rowboat tied to a 
piling, clambered down, freed it and set out for the big ship, not a 
single plan in my head but the image of the woman's lush body and 
youngster's pink lips in my mind.

	It probably took me the best part of a half-hour to row out 
under the stern of the two-decker.  From the open windows of the 
cabin above, I could hear laughter and an occasion cheer.  I was 
obviously too late.  I sat and debated, ashamed of myself and angry 
at my inability to help the women, one of whom screeched loudly 
from twenty feet above me.

	I heard an outraged voice that I was sure was that of 
Constance T--, and then there came a crashing shattering of glass, 
and a window frame and flailing body plunged into the bay right 
before me, spraying me and my little boat.  The body had been at 
least partially clothed and wearing skirts, my mind said, as I pulled 
off my boots and dove into the murky sea.  

	The girl came up, gasping and spitting water, and I grabbed 
her by the hair and pulled her toward my small craft.  The sounds of 
cursing and laughter came from the windows above, but I do not 
think anyone there could have seen the girl hit the water nor could 
have noted my presence because of the curve of the ship's afterhull 
and high poop.

	I pushed the struggling girl to the side of the boat and got her 
to hold on, swung myself aboard and then pulled the drenched and 
shocked young woman into the boat and patted her bare back.  She 
lay, curled up in the water sloshing across the bottom of the 
rowboat, naked to the waist, weeping.  After minute or so, I pulled 
her up and plunked her down on the seat, facing me.

	"You!" she said.  "Aunt Constance said . . . ," she blubbered, 
letting her head droop down toward her apple-sized breasts with 
their rose-bud tips.

	I patted her back and moved to sit beside her, putting my arm 
about her slim shoulders, feeling her gooseflesh. Her torn shift hung 
about her hips and her tiny set of stays sat, half-unlaced, about her 
trim waist.

	"You've got to get her out of there," the girl said.  "Please, 
you must.  They made us suck them and now they're getting ready 
to poke her, all of them."  She wiped her soft mouth with the back 
of her hand.  "They were going to tie me to the table."  She moaned 
again, her lithe body shaking.

	"Don't see how I can," I told her.

	"There aren't many men up there now, maybe six or seven," 
she said.  "Just the officers, and they're all busy poking her by now.  
Two passed out."

	I had seen a rope ladder dangling as I neared the big ship, but 
I had also noted two sailors lounging near the top of it.  I rowed to 
the place where I could see the other side of the black-sided ship 
and spotted several ropes hanging there, their ends almost in the 
water.  Probably for hoisting supplies on board, I assumed.

	I tied my little craft to the anchor chain, gave the shivering girl 
my drenched shirt, told her to wait for me unless she heard me yell 
out for her to row, promised to do my best, swam three strokes, 
grabbed a rope and clambered up the wooden side of the ship to 
the first open gunport.  I let myself in and made my way back 
toward the stern, squishing along in my bare feet, head bent low, 
mounted a ladder and followed the sounds of carousing.

	Just outside the captain's cabin, I found a Marine guard leaning 
back, his eyes closed and his bayonet tipped musket braced between 
his legs.  I put my hand over his mouth, pushed him hard against the 
bulkhead and drove my big blade through the middle of his chest 
and upward.  He inhaled sharply and then sank to the deck.  I 
checked to see that his weapon was primed.

	I sheathed my knife, hoisted my borrowed musket, kicked in 
the door forgetting I had no boot on, and stepped into the big after 
cabin which had been cleared except for a long table and a set of 
chairs.  Bent over the table at the left end, her wrists tied and fasted 
to a bolt in the tabletop, lay Constance, looking up at me, her dress 
turned back over her wide hips and her long hair wildly awry.  
Standing behind her was young naval officer who was busily 
ramming his cock into her, his eyes closed in pleasure, her hips in his 
hands.  I resisted the temptation to shoot him.  Instead I quickly 
looked about, decided who was the captain, pushed two astonished 
men aside in the crowded space and put the tip of the bayonet at his 
chest within two seconds.  Surprise was on my side.

	"Sir," I said, getting my back to the widows and noting that 
one was missing, "you command here?"

	He nodded as the uniformed man pulled himself out of the 
squirming women and fumbled with his clothes, red-faced.

	"Send these people away," I ordered.  Constance looked up at 
me and sighed.

	He nodded wordlessly and, one-by-one, they left, knuckling 
their foreheads or at least giving him a small bow as they did.  The 
last to go was the young officer who had been busily swiving 
Constance when I entered.  He was still doing his buttons as he 
exited.

	"This is shameful, sir," I said, prodding him along toward the 
furious woman, whose eyes burned with hate.  I cut her loose 
without losing sight of the captain's pale face, my spike bayonet at 
his heart, and resheathed my knife.  The good woman stood, shook 
back her hair, took the rope from her wrist, straightened her lace-
trimmed shirt, found her jacket and then poured herself some 
brandy and tossed it down.

	"Now what?" she asked, seating herself and giving me a very 
small smile, looking as if this were an ordinary occasion, cool as ice, 
despite having been abused and raped.  Her lips appeared bruised 
and swollen and a small bruise discolored one cheek.  She fluffed out 
the lace at her elbows.

	"Now he orders up his gig and his rowers and we go ashore 
in style, madam, you, me, the girl and the captain."

	"We do?" she said, refilling her glass and lifting an arched 
eyebrow.  "How pleasant."

	"Or his bright naval career ends right here, on this fine piece of 
British steel." I poked him.

	"Bos'n," the captain cried loudly, and very quickly a sailor 
appeared, looking meek indeed.

	"Sir," he said, taking a quick look about, "there's a dead 
Marine `ere in the passageway, carved open `e is."

	"Have my boat lowered.  Be quick about it.  I'm going 
ashore."

	"Aye," the man said, ducking out and closing the door 
soundlessly.

	"Well disciplined," I said.

	He nodded and took a breath, the first I had noticed him 
taking since I got to him. I became, if anything, more alert, 
concentrating on what to do next.

	"Our choices," I said to the lovely woman whose breathing 
was becoming more regular and slow, "are to go with this man, trust 
that he wants to live, or you can jump into the sea and join the girl in 
the rowboat just below."

	She nodded, looking much calmer than I felt.

	"I'm not much of a swimmer," she said.  "And this was a new 
dress."

	"Was this his doing?" I asked her, giving him another poke.

	"I don't think so, although he certainly enjoyed himself.  It was 
his first mate who invited us here, and it was he who planned to 
deflower the girl.  He claimed the privilege."

	"Get him here," I said to the captain.

	"Bos'n," he called again.  The sailor appeared, avoiding my 
eyes.  "My compliments to Mr. Archer.  Tell him to report here at 
once."  It was as if I, despite my musket and bayonet, did not exist.

	"Aye, sir," the young sailor said and vanished after sneaking a 
look at the seated woman who sat with her ankles crossed, sipping 
her drink.	

	The officer was there in minute or two, knocked, entered and 
stood at attention.

	"This one?" I asked the woman.

	She nodded, and I swung the musket up and smashed its butt 
into the man's jaw, probably breaking it and knocking out several 
teeth.  He fell back across the table with his hands to his face, 
blubbering and bleeding.

	"Get on your knees," I yelled at him, getting the bayonet back 
where I wanted it, on the captain's chest.

	He slumped down, dripping blood and knelt, facing me.  

	"Turn around," I said, and he did in the narrow space 
available so his head was toward the women's knees.

	"Beg her forgiveness," I said, and he raised his head and 
mumbled something, dribbling blood.

	"Captain," I said, pushing him back to the bulkhead, "do not 
do anything foolish if you want to live.  Dead heroes are not 
promoted."

	He nodded.

	"Back up and sit over there," I said, gesturing to the far end 
of the table.  He did as he was told.

	"Did you understand him?" I asked the stately woman.

	She shook her head, looking disgusted.

	I poked the kneeling man in the buttocks with my spike 
bayonet, hard enough to bring blood.  "Again, beg forgiveness," I 
demanded.

	He looked up and said, "Sorry" and something else.

	I rammed eighteen inches of three-edged steel up his rectum. 
He screamed.  I twisted the musket to release the imbedded spike 
and withdrew the weapon.  I clamped on my own bayonet while the 
man screamed, wailed and writhed.  When his buttocks were turned 
toward me, it kicked the bayonet fitting hard, and he passed out, his 
head up against a table leg, legs splayed like a spaniel.  I wished I 
had not done it since I was still barefoot.

	The woman poured me some liquor and I drank it without 
tasting it.  "Do you know this man?" I asked her, kicking at the one 
on the floor.

	"No," she said, "but he knew my husband, served with him at 
one time."

	I looked at her, puzzled.

	"He was an officer, Royal Navy, my husband, before he 
became a whaler.  Died of a fever or perhaps the pox, out in the 
Pacific, two years ago."

	I nodded.  "And this man knew him?"

	"Yes," she said, "he told me that while he had his flabby cock 
in my niece's mouth."

	A knock interrupted us.  The captain's barge was ready.  I 
took off my bayonet, set aside the musket, told the captain to lead 
out and the woman to follow.  Up on deck we went and then down 
the rope ladder.  No one made any move to interfere.  I had the 
boson steer to the stern, get the shaking girl on board and take the 
rowboat in tow.  He did so without comment.  The women huddled 
together, and the captain and I sat in the sternsheets, my blade at 
his ribs.  It was a quick and uneventful trip with six men rowing 
beautifully.  I stepped out on the shingle beach, helped the women 
ashore, turned to say something and then thought better of it.  Two 
sailors pushed the boat back into the water, and they rowed off, 
almost without orders, a well-drilled crew, leaving rows of circles in 
the sea.

	We walked up the loose stones and dirty sand to the harbor 
road and here came the crew I had questioned in the tavern.  They 
stopped to gape as we passed, and I nodded to the bearded one.  
"Party ended a bit early," I said.

	We got our carriage and I took them home quickly.  The 
woman ushered the girl inside but turned at the door to say, 
"Wait."

	I took the rig back to her big carriage house and went in the 
back door.  She met me in the hallway.  "I've sent her off to bed, 
given her some laudanum, not much."

	I held her.  "Sorry I was slow getting there."

	"You did fine," she said, hugging me.  "I want you to stay the 
night.  They might do something, those officers might; the girl may 
need comfort.  I surely do.  I'll feel much safer with you in the 
house."

	"You don't want me in your bed," I said.

	"No," she said quietly and with a tiny smile, "I've had more 
than enough of that today; just nearby."

	She led me up to a spare bedroom on the second floor, rose on 
her toes and kissed me briefly, tonguing my lips.  "Leave your door 
open; perhaps in the morning."  She smiled rather wanly and 
disappeared.  I stripped to my shirt and crawled into bed, fatigued 
from the excitement I suppose. My toes ached as well as my stones.

	I was nearly asleep when I heard the sobs and sniffs through 
the wall.  I lay back and listened for a few minutes, and they came 
and went.  Then I heard footsteps and few more sniffs, and the girl 
was standing at my bedside, wearing her frilly shift and looking 
mournful and about ten years old.

	"I can't sleep," she sighed.

	"Want me to rouse your aunt?" I whispered.

	She shook her head, tumbling her curls.  "She doesn't know."

	"Know what?" I asked as the youngster climbed up and rolled 
in beside me.  I tossed the quilts over her, and she cuddled, her 
hand on my chest and her knee at my hip.  She was warm and 
smelled good.

	"Know about me," she said, her lips at my ear.  "How I lost 
my maidenhead."

	�Um," I said, stretching my left arm about her and down along 
her slim body, patting her rump.  She purred and wiggled.

	"But I had never sucked anybody, not until today," she said.  
"That was nasty."

	Sometimes the tincture stimulates people; I had heard that.  
Drugs affect folks in different ways.

	"Can I tell you?" she asked very quietly, wriggling a bit to get 
her body still closer.

	"Long story?" I asked, yawning.

	"Uh uh," she said.  "You sleepy?"

	I just lay there, breathing while she petted my chest hair and 
rubbed her small breast against my ribs and her legs against mine.

	"Well," she said, "when I was almost thirteen and had just 
started my monthlies, my brother, he's three years older than me, 
and a friend of his, a nice boy, handsome as sin, they came home one 
night from, I don't know, from a party or something.  Anyhow, 
they smelled of rum; I think it was rum." I felt her eyelashes on my 
upper arm.

	I took a deep breath.  It was a story I had heard before.

	"So it was late when they came up to the loft where I slept and 
took off all their clothes and got under the covers on both sides of 
me.  I was scared.  They were very warm."

	I shook my head and probably sighed.

	"Wait," she said a bit louder.  "My brother whispered to me 
not to make any noise, and he said they would make me feel good.  
They had both turned toward me and had their hands on me, and I 
could feel their prods poking out, touching my hips.  I'd never even 
seen one, not a hard one, just babys' you know."

	I waited.

	"And they did, made me feel good, with their hands and their 
fingers and their lips and their tongues.  There was a lot of kissing 
and nibbling. They were all over me and then, before I knew what 
was happening, my brother had his thing inside me and was pushing 
in and pulling it out and grunting something awful.  I squealed when 
he broke through after spreading my legs out wide, but he just 
kissed me and kept right on humping.  When he got done, he rolled 
off, and his friend climbed on me, and he poked me too until he 
squirted in me."

	"Did it hurt?" I asked stupidly.

	She nodded.  "Some, a little, but I didn't care.  He was my 
brother, and I really loved him.  Mostly, it felt good, especially the 
second time." She sniffed.  "And the third."

	"That the end of the story?"

	"Almost," she said.  "They turned me over and both did me 
again with me up on my knees.  Then my brother started sneaking 
into my room at night, and one morning Pa caught him in my bed.  
Pa beat him something awful with his razor strap and sent me away.  
Said it was my fault.  That's why I'm here.  I've been going from 
relative to relative, watched all the time.  I haven't had a man for 
nearly a year."

	Her stroking hand had been sliding down my stomach and 
belly and by the time she finished her tale it had found the hairy 
root of my thick member.  Her fingers tried to circle it and failed.

	"So Aunt Constance doesn't know that I like to do it.  That's 
why I yelled and fought and jumped out the window, to keep her 
from finding out.  I really wanted those cocks, the ones I had 
sucked.  I've never seen so many and so long and hard either.  Joey, 
that's my brother, Joey, his is only about as big as my finger."  She 
held up her forefinger in the starlight and smiled at me.  Then she 
scratched the growing length of my yard.

	"So," she said, licking my nipple.  "When I heard Aunt Connie 
putting you in here . . ."

	"How old are you now?" I asked quietly.

	"Almost sixteen," she said, making a face.

	"So your brother had been mounting you, off and on, for 
what, two years?"

	She nodded, tickling at my root's fat head. "Sometimes he 
brought his friend along, the same boy.  His was bigger, but not this 
big."

	"Um," I said, aroused and ready, past caring about her age or 
intelligence.  "How do you like to do it?"

	"You're too big to get on me.  You'd smash me.  So from the 
back's better I think or spoon like.  That's nice sometimes." She 
kissed my cheek and them clambered up on her hands and knees, 
head down on the pillows, rump in the air.

	I got situated behind her with the quilt on my shoulders, 
rubbed my stalk up and down her tiny slit a time or two, made sure 
it was properly placed, sufficiently oiled and well seated and then 
gave her a few inches, strong and steady.  She was very tight, silky 
tight but once I got past her muscular entry, it was much easier and 
soon anointed.

	"Um," she sighed, "that feels good.  It's awful thick, isn't it?"

	We did a few strokes with her hips rocking back and forth in 
time with my thrusts.  Then I gave her a bit more, and she wriggled 
and sucked in her breath.  I petted her to calm her, massaged her 
small breasts, still rigid and eager for action.  I put one hand on the 
small of her back and thrust deeply.

	"Oh," she gasped, "that's bigger than I thought it was, too big 
and it hurts.  I think we need to stop."  She tried to wiggle away, 
pulling on the headboard.

	I held it there, perhaps half way into her, jumping and flexing 
in her liquefied quim but not seeking either friction or depth.  After a 
bit she seemed less tense.  I started some more in and outs, getting a 
bit deeper each time I rocked forward.  By then her hands were up 
on the top of the headboard and she was grunting and heaving with 
each ram. I put my hands into her belly and leaned back, ready to let 
her have all of it, my fingers into her fuzzy mound.

	She suddenly came, shuddering and spasming, her small body 
shaking on my extended spear.  I waited and when the frisson of 
passion passed by, I sank the rest of it into her, banging her head 
against the top of the bed.

	"Ah," she gasped, and then as I began rogering her 
vigorously, she grunted out, "Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh," with each of my 
efforts, her whole body shaking.

	"Quiet, quiet," I whispered, bending over her arched back.  
"You'll wake your aunt."

	"Too much, too much," she sobbed as I neared my climax.  
"Please, I can't, can't.  I can't do it," and she collapsed, arms and 
legs wide spread.  With some effort, I pulled it out of her limp body, 
got to my feet and carried her back to her own bed, my rigid pintle 
preceding us.  I covered her, kissed her and then tiptoed back to my 
room, still fiercely hard.  I went to the window, stuck my cock out 
into the cool night air and fisted it off, spurting out ribbons of jism 
into the dark.  Then, relieved, I slept.

	I awoke very early and very hard, aware that two women 
slept nearby and feeling as though I could horse both of them.  I 
stroked my mighty rod and found it blood hot and heavy veined, 
weighing, I guessed, at least ten pounds and longer than I could 
cover with both my hands about it.  I got my feet on the floor, 
crossed the hall, stepped to Constance's bedside and admired her 
beauty.  I walked around the bed and stood with my quivering root 
jutting out and almost touching her cheek.  I rubbed it along her face 
and to her lips.  Her tongue tip appeared and touched it, and then 
her eyes opened and she stretched.

	"Good morning," she said sleepily, reaching up to hold my 
huge phallus delicately.  "Is this for me?"  In her hand it appeared to 
be some sort of ugly cudgel.

	"If you want it?" I said, tousle ling her hair and rubbing its 
crown along her parted lips.  

	She took its ridged head into her mouth and ran her tongue 
about it before pushing it out and holding the covers up for me.  "I 
was hoping," she said as I lifted her legs on the crook of my arms 
and spread her open.  "Don't be gentle."

	I was not, and she covered her own mouth with her hands to 
stifle her scream as I sank it into her, all of it, every thick, monstrous, 
throbbing and jumping inch of it.  And then we began; both 
determined not to be the first to ask for quarter.

	I came quickly, lubricating our further efforts with my sperm, 
and she climaxed soon after, arching up bow-like as we continued to 
have at each other.  We rolled over so she was atop and never 
slowed until she came again, eyes closed, shaking a dozen times 
before she collapsed upon me, gasping and mewling with pleasure.

	"My God," said a small voice from the foot of the bed, and I 
looked down past the lush body of the shivering and impaled 
woman to see Mary Elizabeth standing there, fingers to her lips.

	"Come," I said, lifting the quilt, "there's room enough for 
you."

	She ran from the room, and the woman lying atop me laughed.

	"Did you horse her last night?" she asked.

	I nodded.

	"And?"

	"She's awful young," I said.

	"Her father sent me a note," Constance said as my ram 
continued to jump and surge within her.  "I don't think I can do it 
again.  Maybe you'd better go to her bed."

	"It would kill her," I said, rolling her over, holding her hips 
and starting with very small strokes.  Soon we were fully engaged 
again and after a rather long and tiring ride, she managed to enjoy 
another shuddering orgasm, and I eventually tired of the game after 
I emptied my ballocks and withdrew, sore but satisfied.


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