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From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 063 Etta (Mf hist)
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Date: Sat, 29 May 2004 16:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 063.txt" begin>

Rebel 063 (Old Bill) (Mf hist)

Beautiful Etta

	Madam Von. R-- took me aside, holding my arm very firmly, 
and pointed with her fan.  "See that girl, the dark-haired one?" she 
said.

	I looked where she gestured and saw a young beauty with 
shining eyes laughing with a gray-wigged man who had a drink in 
his hand.  I nodded and found it hard to take my eyes off her.  She 
was young and succulent.  My cock twitched.

	"You are to leave her completely alone, understand?"  The 
little woman looked at me with her steely eyes.  "She has been a 
marvel.  In two months she has produced more useful information 
than most of my girls do in a year.  And I do not want her ruined."

	"Ruined," I protested with my best smile.  "How have I ruined 
your fine flock of lovely nieces?"

	"Hah," she said, flailing the air with her fan.  "Once they 
sample your outsized wares, no one else will do.  They then become, 
for a fortnight or more, demanding lovers rather than 
complimentary and thei r paramours go off disappointed with 
themselves.  It is not healthy, not useful.  So just leave her to me."

	"What's her name?" I asked, curious about this obviously 
luscious but forbidden fruit in the madam's wonderful garden.

	"Henrietta," she said, "but the girls call her Etta.  You need 
not even know that.  Take my warning or you shall be banned from 
my home, useful though you may be."

	Since that was a most serious threat, I did as I was told, and it 
was perhaps a week later when the warning next came to my mind.  
I was sitting on my cot in the cellar late one night, pulling off my 
boots, when the girl appeared, a small lamp in her delicate hand.  She 
did look like a porcelain doll, a living and breathing doll with soft lips 
and flowing tresses who was dressed for her bed, pale as milk.  I 
immediately considered tucking her into mine and hoping no one 
would ever know.

	"Sir," she said very quietly, "We have not met properly, but I 
know who you are." She bent her knee and ducked her head, 
holding back a smile.

	"And you are Etta, am I right?" I nodded and smiled in return 
and taking her offered hand.

	She smiled back, a wonderful smile.  "The girls say you may be 
able to help me."

	"I cannot," I said, "I must not.  The madam forbids it.  You 
should leave right now."

	"But why?" the girl asked, sitting down beside me.  Our legs 
touched.  She smelled wonderful, and my unruly root stirred.  I had 
served a number of the girls on my sturdy cot and was certainly 
ready to enjoy this sweet morsel for the rest of that evening.

	"I'm not sure.  You must ask her." I tried to put my mind on 
other things.

	"But my problem is very private.  A person her age might not 
understand."

	I put my hand on her thigh and rubbed a bit, trying to feel 
fatherly.  "Well, tell me," I said, "but it must be our secret."

	"Of course," she said, and leaned her head against my 
shoulder.  "It has be do with," she put her hand on my foreflap and 
palmed my tumescent root, "with this." She actually patted the fat 
thing as one might a dog.

	"Really," I said, startled and stimulated.

	She nodded.  "The men I have been with, the English and their 
friends in the city, old men mostly, one was seventy-something, they 
have not been able to," she stroked my shaft in an exploratory 
manner, "to penetrate me, to have successful relations, at least not to 
my satisfaction.  You understand?  They seem to enjoy themselves, 
most do, but not I."

	"Say more," I said, covering her prying hand atop my swelling 
yard and then holding it on her mounded thigh, our fingers linked.  
I was doing my best to control myself and failing as usual.

	"I'm too small, or perhaps too tight, too deep or poorly shaped 
or something.  I spread my legs and guide their hard member to my 
passage, tip myself up for them.  They can't get in, not completely.  
They just poke and batter and grunt and push and curse, but 
nothing happens.  Or at least very little does except they usually 
squirt on me and running up and down my slit." She sniffed.

	I put my other arm about her slim shoulders and she looked up 
at me, a tear on her cheek.

	"They are often embarrassed, full of excuses."

	"Are you a virgin?" I asked.

	"Oh no," she said, sitting up very straight, her young breasts 
poking out the filmy cloth of her shirred nightdress, upright nipples 
clearly defined, just mouth-sized, very hard, highly tempting. My 
palms itched. "Not since I was twelve, and our gardener caught me 
out in the potting shed.  He said what he did was punishing me.  It 
hurt, too.  Later that summer, two of my friends, two boys a little 
older than I was, we played games, fascinated with each other's 
bodies, and they put their things in me, their members, oh ten or 
twelve times I think, maybe more.  It was exciting.  I still dream 
about them.  But they were small, the size of your little finger 
perhaps."

	"And now, how old are you?"

	"I'll be eighteen next month," she said, wiping her face with 
the back of her hand and sniffing again, tugging at my heart. "Most 
of my friends are wed."

	"So for almost six years you were a virgin, sort of a virgin," I 
said

	She laughed quietly.  "I suppose."


	"Well then" I said, "you are now dealing with men and not 
boys.  You may need to get used to a different size of pintle, of 
pleasure weapon, if you will,; whatever you wish to call it.  Men, 
obviously, are larger than boys, at least most are."

	"I don't understand."

	"You might need some stretching to get used to men, for the 
efforts of older men especially, young ones likely would not have the 
problem.  But they might hurt you."

	"Then will you?  Yours is surely big enough."  She glanced up 
at me shyly and put her hand back on it. "Oh," she said, looking up 
at me, eyes wide.

	"Oh no," I said, "the madam has expressly forbidden it.  But I 
will do something for you.  I promise."  I urged her to her feet and 
pushed her to the foot of the steps, my hand cupping her buttock.

	"All right," she said, turning on the first step and holding high 
her lamp.  "But the girls said you could open any woman's 
doorway."  She grabbed my head with her free hand, kissed me 
hard and then ran up the stairs in flurry of legs and ruffles.

	I relieved myself with my fist, spurting off in the dark corner 
of my cellar, slept without dreams, and went about my work in the 
city.  I met with a carpenter I knew toward day's end and bought 
him a few ales.  He produced, from under his workbench, a box 
filled with wonderful dildoes of various woods, sizes and types.  He 
must have had a hundred that he had turned out in his spare time 
on his foot-treadle lathe; some were even curved and a few were 
ribbed or knobby.

	I chose a smooth and headless prod of six or seven inches, not 
too thick but tapering to decent size, paid his price and went back to 
Madam Von R-'s manse, very pleased with myself.  I told one of 
the maids to tell Etta I had something for her, and the girl appeared 
in my hideaway that evening, all aflutter with knots of cloth in her 
dark mane.

	"Do you know what this is?" I asked, producing the 
rosewood object in its slim velvet bag.

	She shook her head and smiled at me, her beauty shining out 
of her eyes.

	"It's a woman's true friend, carved in wood.  It's a man's 
pride she can have any time she wants it without putting up with the 
brute."  I pulled it out and put it in her hand.  "Some women tell me 
they prefer it to mine or any other man's."  She turned it over and 
stroked it, feeling the soft surface of the carefully finished wood.  
She rubbed it along her cheek and smiled.

	"It is lovely," she said, "but . . ."

	"Be gentle with yourself, lubricate it with something, spit at 
least, oil would be better I think, maybe butter or grease, and do 
not hurry.  Play with yourself first, before you put it in, tickle your 
fancy a bit, get the juices flowing, rub it on your breasts.  Be patient 
and after a while you should be able to move it in and out without 
using your fingers at all.  You must train your muscles."

	She looked up at me with disbelief.

	"It will take time, but it will stretch you if that is what you 
need.  I can get you a bigger one later, if you wish."

	"But you could do it better and quicker," she said, putting the 
glowing thing in its soft bag and drawing tight the string.

	"Perhaps," I said, "but I promised Madam I would not.  And I 
might hurt you."

	She went up on her toes and kissed my cheek and then fled.

	Two nights later I was summoned from my sleep to the 
madam's sitting room.  She was very agitated.

	"They have snatched her," she said without preamble.

	I waited.

	"She did not come back last night, but I was not told until this 
evening.  I sent out my men.  There is no sign of her."

	"Who?" I asked.

	"Etta, of course," the irate old lady said.  "My prize, you fool.  
They have her and lord knows what they may be doing to her.  Go 
find her.  Bring her back."

	I stood gawking.

	"Get!" the madam cried, swatting me with her ever-present 
fan.

	I saddled my surprised horse and went into town, calling on 
every tavern and source I had until I got a whisper of devilment 
with a dark-haired young woman on the part of one of the King's 
most highly-placed and well-hated ministers in the colonies.  He was 
a man with a thoroughly foul reputation when it came to women, a 
man of vulgar tastes and noted rapacity who was said to derive 
sexual pleasure from the pain of others, especially young women and 
younger boys.

	I rode directly into his stable, asked the boy on duty what was 
going on while putting a coin in his hand.

	"Party of a sort," he said.  "Started some hours ago an' it's still 
goin' on I thinks.  In the big basement room, one `thout winders."

	The brick house was dark, but I found an unlocked shutter 
and entered, a pistol in my belt as well as my big knife.  The building 
seemed very quiet.  I found steps that led down and at their bottom 
nearly ran into a very large black man who was carrying a platter of 
food.  His muscular body glowed in the candlelight, and he was bare 
except for a loincloth.

	I put my finger to my lips and showed him my knife.  He 
nodded, eased past me and entered a thick door, closing it silently 
behind him.  I waited with my ear to the portal, and he reappeared 
in a few minutes, beckoning me to follow him to a pantry where a 
row of empty bottles stood on a counter.

	"What 'chu wan'?" he asked

	"There a girl in there?" I asked

	He smiled.  "I'se gonna have her pretty soon."  He fondled his 
bulging groin.

	I found a thick coin and handed it to him, a crown.  "Go find 
another girl, one more your age."

	He scowled at me.  "Them gen'lemens, they ain' gonna lak it."

	"How many of them, how many men in there?"

	He held out his hand and I put a shilling in it. "Five," he said 
with a smile, showing very white teeth.  "Be glad to get m'clothes 
back on.  That there's a foul bunch."

	I thanked him, checked my priming, and walked to the heavy 
door, took a deep breath and entered.  I saw the girl immediately.  
She was naked and tied to a chair at the far end of the table.  Her 
chin was up but her dark hair hung across much of her face.  Gobs 
of what look like mucous clung to her sad face, tangled hair and firm 
breasts, male spend I was sure.  Two men sat on each side of the 
table, periwigged and well dressed while another sat with his back 
to me, broad across the shoulders with lace at his wrists.  In the 
middle of the cluttered table stool a huge, black phallus, a dildo of 
sorts covered in leather with a thick seam on one side and a bulbous 
head that was red-stained.  It was at least a foot high and as thick as 
my forearm.

	"Stay seated, gentlemen," I said.  "I have come for the lady."

	The man in front of me made to stand and I clubbed him down 
with the barrel of my heavy pistol.  He yelled and sat, holding his 
bewigged head.

	"This thing is full of buckshot," I told them.  "It will shred you, 
leave you unrecognizable.  You two on that side of the table," I 
gestured with the pistol, "stand up slowly, keep your hands in sight 
and leave."  They hesitated, looking at each other, a pair of sallow, 
mature men, and I yelled, "Move!"

	They jumped, stood, knocking over one chair, nodded to their 
silent host and left the room very quietly while I slid around and cut 
the girl's bonds.  I handed her a napkin and she began to mop the 
semen from her face and chest.

	"Now you two," I said, and an old man with a wrinkled face 
whose eyes spoke of hate and his only-slightly younger companion 
stood and left the room, the old man grumbling as he did.  "Where 
are your clothes?" I asked the girl, my eyes on the bulky gentleman 
still in his chair of honor, a trickle of blood showing on his forehead.

	"Don't know," she said in a whisper, wiping her breasts as 
best she could and tossing back her hair with a flick of her head.

	"Stand," I said to the man at the far end of the table.  He 
hesitated and I cocked the pistol.  He stood.  "Take off your jacket, 
waistcoat and shirt," I said.  "Toss them here."

	He spat to the side of the laden table and did as I had told 
him.  When his shirt went over his head, he revealed a hairy and 
corpulent body with rolls of suet at his inflated waist.  I handed the 
girl his shirt and urged her to put it on.  She wriggled in and the 
garment fell to her knees and covered her hands, gaping at her 
chest.  "Now get into his coat," I said to her.  "Take off your shoes 
and breeches," I said to him.

	I helped her with the heavy coat which was adorned with gold 
lace while the fat man sat, doffed his fancy boots and struggled out 
of his tight-fitting britches.  I walked to his end of the table, the 
muzzle of my weapon steady at his head and tossed the girl his 
shoes.

	"Get on the floor," I said to the snarling man.  "On all fours."  
He fell to his knees and then put his head and hands on the stones.  
I undid my foreflap, tossed his wig aside and pissed on him, 
spraying from his back to his bald head.  Then I kicked him in the 
ear, and when he rolled over I stomped his shrunken genitals twice, 
eliciting a scream that pleased me.  He put his hands between his legs 
and rocked to and fro, moaning in pain, tears in his piggy eyes.  I 
gathered up the astonished girl, took the key from the room side of 
the door and locked the wailing man within, wishing I had shoved 
that leather phallus up his rectum but hurrying on and tossing the 
key away.

	We ran up the steps and out into the dark, the girl's oversized 
shoes clacking along until she lost one.  She kicked the other off and 
followed me barefoot to the stable.  I helped her up on my horse, 
the man's shirt twisted between her legs and climbed to the saddle 
behind her.  She lay back in my arms, and we made our way to the 
madam's still-lit home in good time on the empty streets.

	I handed her over to the waiting women who cooed and 
fussed and took her away.  Madam Von R-- smiled at me, and I 
went back to my bed, feeling reasonably satisfied and remembering 
what the slim girl felt like between my arms and legs.

	Over the next few days, the story emerged.  Etta had 
attended a soiree with the grossly fat man who was the King's 
minister of she-knew-not-what and, at his urgent invitation, 
returned with him to his home and bed where he failed to please 
himself despite her best efforts.  He slapped her about and locked 
her in a closet.  The next night he brought together four of his 
friends, including two men who had also failed to swive the young 
woman to their satisfaction.

	They stripped her, tied her to a chair and forced her to 
perform fellatio on each of them, spewing out jism on her before 
they stepped aside for the next man.  They laughed and drank and 
told her what awaited her when the black man served them.  They 
had the servant display his large member to her and said that each 
of them would mount her after she had been properly stretched for 
their use by him and then later, with the huge leather-covered 
phallus.  Then they drank and ate some more.
	
	The girl's ordeal had lasted several hours when I arrived.  The 
aftermath of the affair was silence.  There was, we discovered, not 
even a whisper of the event.  I had almost hoped that the man 
whose ballocks I had stomped would come out and show himself, 
but instead he took the first ship back to London, complaining of the 
inhospitable colonials and their whorish women.

	Etta, however, did thank me in a most pleasant manner after 
she recovered from her ordeal.  She came to my bed several weeks 
later with my present in one hand and her small lamp in the other.  
"Shall I keep this?" she asked as I stood, clad only in my shirt.  "I 
really do not need it any more."

	"It is yours," I said as she set the lamp aside, "you may pass it 
on to another if you wish."

	"Thank you," she said, holding the long velvet bag between 
her round breasts.  Her hair hung loose and her eyes were aglow, a 
smile played on her soft lips.  "It was just what I needed; your 
prescription was most helpful, indeed, most pleasant.  It is a prime 
device."

	"I will tell its maker that you were pleased," I said, untying the 
ribbon at her neck.

	"Please do," she said, wiggling her shoulders as I spread open 
her nightgown.  It slid to her elbows, paused on her upright nipples, 
slowed passing over her rounded hips and then cascaded to the 
floor.  My hands explored her warm body as our mouths clamped 
together.  My prod rose, and she lifted one leg above my hipbone, 
her hands linked behind my neck.  My horn found its longed-for 
home, and she raised the other leg, hooked her ankles together and 
leaned back as I clamped my wrists in the small of her back.

	My still swelling ram slowly penetrated her firm tightness and 
as she produced more lubricants it drove deeper and faster until I 
was sunk in her depths, enjoying her young body to the fullest, 
holding her hard buttocks in my hands.  We danced about the room, 
rutting like fools until I got her on her back in my bed and 
proceeded to roger her to utter distraction and gasping cries of 
pleasure.

	We rested tangled together in my small bed.  

	"That was wonderful," she told me, kneading my stones and 
nibbling my chest here and there.  "The girls were right."

	"Hm," I said sucking one hard tit and then the other.

	"You are much better than that wooden thing."

	"Hm," I said again, kissing my way down her wondrous body.

	"It can't swell and jump like your pike does."

	"Hm," I said, kissing my way southward, finding her tiny 
nubbin and sucking it between my lips.

	"Yah," she cried, holding my head where it was with both 
hands.  When she released me, I stretched up and entered her 
again.  She wrapped me in her legs and we enjoyed and long, slow, 
deep and seemingly endless series of contractions and spasms that 
shook her body as I plowed her glove-tight and muscular cunny 
until I was fully and truly spent.

	She stood, a bit wobbly, and I helped her find her gown and 
don it.  I tied her neck bow and kissed her.  She took her lamp and 
crept up the stairs.
	
	
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