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Message-ID: <48061asstr$1086063002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 065 Lace (MF hist)
Lines: 265
Date: Tue,  1 Jun 2004 00:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 065.txt" begin>
Rebel 065 (Old Bill) (MF hist)

Lace

	"Here she is," Madam Von R-- said, "look at her, the poor
thing."

	I looked and saw a very appetizing young woman, eyes downcast
and hands clasped at her softly rounded belly, her cheeks showing
a bit of puppy fat.

	"This is the one they call `Lace,' but her name is Elizabeth." 
The old Madam sniffed, obviously disapproving.  "She is a very
good girl, she is."  Madam Von R-- took a deep breath and looked
at me sharply, measuring or considering.  "She has lain with a
half dozen men in the last fortnight and secured a great deal of
useful information as well as a few bruises."

	"Seven," the girl said quietly, glancing a me.

	"Eh?" said the old lady.  "What, yes, seven men is it?  Well,
that's even worse, poor thing."

	The girl was lean and well formed, long-legged and
chestnut-haired with pouting lips and dark eyes.  I waited,
enjoying just being in the same room with her and trying not to
think of her young body being assaulted by seven enemy males in
the last couple of weeks.

	"The worst part is," the old lady said," this is a bit delicate
you understand, the worse part is that none of them pleased her."
She looked at me and furrowed her brow.  "If you get my meaning.
She gave them what they wanted and got very little in return."

	Not uncommon, thought I, beginning to figure out why she had
ordered me to shave and wash myself.

	"So," said the gray-haired woman very quickly, "I have told her
that you would do this service for her and make up for the
boorish men she has been with, all seven of them.  Men are such
brutes."  She flicked her fan at me and gave us both a grande
dame smile.  "Now get along."

	I offered Lace my elbow and she led me up to her room on the
third floor.  I took her gently in my arms and kissed her as she
closed the door, stroking her firm back and firmer buttocks and
wondering if I could manage seven couplings.  "Has this happened
before?" I asked her as I sat on her bed and pulled off my boots.

	She shook her head after she removed her combs so her long
tresses cascaded down her back.  "No, well, occasionally, " she
sighed, "most men I've been with were, well, eager to, to, well,
to bring me to, you know, to rouse me, to hear me cry out.  It
seemed to please them, make them feel, I don' know, confident. 
Sometimes I pretended.  Often lately."  She took a deep breath as
she struggled out of her bodice, its sleeves dripping with fancy
lace.  "But these, recently, these men were like, I don't know,
like rabbits, some kind of eager animal, chipmunks.  They are a
group that run around together, similar types and snobs of the
worst sort, every one of them."  She hung her skirt on the chair
back and came to stand between my bare knees.  My warm member
rose beneath my old shirt.  I unlaced her stays, which as far as
I could tell, served no earthly purpose, tossed them away and
cupped her small breasts.  I kissed her neck and ears feeling her
tits harden.

	"It really isn't fair, is it?" I asked, getting her to sit on my
thighs, long legs wide spread.  I could feel her heat with my
rising cock.  We kissed again, and she inched forward until the
head of my rearing prick nuzzled her curly muff and prodded her
little nub.  She squealed deep in her throat, rose a bit on her
knees, smiling at me and then wiggled forward until I was well
lodged.  I took my hand from my thick shaft, held her firm
buttocks and eased it into her.  She never stopped smiling.  She
was more than ready. I think I sighed as I pulsed my thick shaft
up into her, inch by rigid inch.

	A half hour or so later, as we lay tangled together in the
bedding, she whispered, "That was six I think, that last one when
I nearly fell out of bed.  Can you do one more?"

	I shook my head, surprised I could even do that, and she made
her way up my body until her soggy mound was in my face, her
knees on my shoulders.  My tongue searched her narrow slit, found
her engorged prick and teased it a bit. I kissed it thoroughly
and then sucked it gently.  She moaned and I drove my tongue up
into her a few times.  Her hand tangled in my hair and kept me
there until she emitted a strangled cry of pleasure and then a
shuddering sigh, releasing me, wet to the ears and worn to an
untidy frazzle.

	I used the jar, washed my sore and fevered member at the
porcelain basin, felt at my depleated ballocks and then clambered
back up on the mattress to lie beside her.  I held and cuddled
her limp form, kissed her bruised lips and asked her, "Enough?"

	Her eyes popped open.  "For now," she said quietly, crawling
down to kiss my soft member.

	I found my clothes and dressed, feeling eviscerated, made my way
to the kitchen and devoured some cold chicken.  The madam found
me there and beckoned.  In her sitting room she told me that I
was to drive and guard Lace on this night's assignation.

	"I do not trust this man," the old lady said.  "He is very young
and very rich with bad manners and a silly face."

	So I found my soiled livery jacket, hitched up the team and
transported Lace, dressed and adorned for a ball, her high
breasts nearly bare beneath a shadow of pale cloth, into the city
that evening.  Every window in the big home gleamed with candle
light so as I sat, smoking and waiting for my passenger, talking
with the other drivers and seeking casual information, I had no
premonition of any dark deeds.  It was well after midnight when I
heard people approaching, a small cry of protest and then a gun
muzzle at my back.

	Lace, her hair in disarray, was being shoved into the carriage
by four men wearing black masks and long capes, and I was forced
up to the driver's seat by another lean man in a similar mask.  I
drove where he told me and at a frame structure far out in the
countryside, we stopped, and I was ordered down while Lace was
dragged toward the house, now wearing only her shift and stays as
I could easily see in the moonlight.

	"What's going on?" I asked my captor softly.

	"Just a play," he said, fumbling out a pair of iron handcuffs
from his cape, "nothing to concern you."  Since I had been
completely cooperative until that moment, he was less than alert
so it was easy to twist his pistol from his grip and smash his
face down into the wide steel rim of the front wheel.  He fell at
my feet, blubbering, his nose ruined, and I whacked him hard just
behind his ear with his own weapon.

	I checked his pistol, tucked it in my belt, got down my musket,
loosened my bayonet in its big scabbard and headed for the house
where a small light now glowed.  Nearly naked, Lace hung from a
fixture in the ceiling, her feet a few inches from the floor and
her wrists chained above her by wrought iron cuffs like the ones
the boy guarding me had displayed. Her shift dangled from one
shoulder and bared both her pale breasts.  The masked men were in
the process of doffing their clothes and one, now naked except
for his boots, mask and flowing cape, had produced a whip and was
smacking it into his gloved hand.

	Soon all four young men were nearly naked, and all four now had
short whips snaked out toward the defenseless woman slowly
twirling before them.  They were becoming sexually aroused, that
was evident.  I clamped my bayonet on my musket as one flicked
his whip about the girl's middle.  She screamed.

	I could see that the door was locked and barred so I found a
large piece of firewood, threw it through the lower window and
charged over the sill behind it, sprawling on the floor but
quickly coming to my feet, bayonet poised to take on the nearest
enemy.

	The four men cowered together in a corner, holding on to each
other, their bare, white bodies somehow obscene, their eager
members sagging.

	I reached up and cut the girl loose, and she came to stand
behind me, pulling her white garment to her luscious body with
her manacled hands.  "Who has the key to these handcuffs?" I
demanded as the men began to slide away from each other.

	"I do," said one of them, showing it dangling from his wrist on
a short piece of cord.

	"Come here and free this girl," I said, thrusting out at the
nearest man who scurried back to his comrades.

	The man with the key stepped before Lace and then grabbed her
with a forearm about her neck and pulled her back to the wall.  I
did not hesitate, but was on him in two strides and smashed him
in the forehead with the butt of my weapon just as he opened his
mouth to say something.  He fell back and slid to a sitting
position, his face covered in blood from his split scalp, out
cold, eyes staring.

	Lace got the key from his limp hand and unlocked herself.  She
kicked the man on the floor in the groin while I unbarred the
door, never taking my eyes from the three standing near each
other.

	I gathered up the four pair of breeches and handed the bundle to
Lace.  "I will let you keep your boots," I said to them, "but
don't any of you ever bother this woman again."

	"Wot about Bobby?" one asked.

	"Who?" I said.

	"The man guarding you," he said, "did you kill him?"

	"Don't think so," I said, and I opened the door.  Bobby leaped
at me from the darkness and got his hands on my face and neck. 
"Run!" I yelled, throwing him off as the others jumped me and
bore me to the floor.  I cannot describe the tussle that followed
except to say it was confused.  If there had been fewer of them,
they might have done better and as it was, I got a black eye and
a split lip out of the fracas which ended when Lace reappeared
with a stick of cord wood in her hands and began bashing heads
left and right.

	I regained my feet and my musket, shot the man charging at me in
the face and then smashed the nearest young man in the privates
with the gun stock and speared another in his skinny chest.  All
five were down, one dead, one dying and the others in no shape to
be a threat to anyone.

	 I reloaded out of habit after handing Lace the pistol.  "Shall
I kill them?" I asked the girl.

	"Might as well," she said, taking aim at the one writhing near
her feet, holding his ballocks and squealing.

	I must admit I was tempted, but I took the gun from her and we
left, wedging the door closed from the outside.

	I bundled Lace in my jacket and with British uniform britches
covering our legs, we made our way back home without much
conversation.  Once in her bed, we talked quietly about what had
happened, made love briefly and vigorously,  then slept.  I
dreamed of horse races, funny that I should remember that, and
woke, bone-hard as usual.

	The girl was up on an elbow looking at me.  "That is the worst
mess I've seen in a long time," she said.  "Your face would
surely stop a clock."

	"Did I thank you for rescuing me last night?" I asked, as I
pushed her down and spread her legs, holding one knee flat on the
mattress.

	"You did not," she said, grasping my huge spike and pulling me
to her eagerly.  "So I expect to be properly rewarded." She
lifted her other leg to my shoulder.

	"And that you shall be, " I stated confidently as I threw my
hips forward and plummeted into her.

	When we finally had to call it quits, the room was sun filled. 
Lace bathed my face, suggested that my lip could use a few
stritches,  and we both went back to our respective parts of the
war.


<1st attachment end>


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