Message-ID: <48166asstr$1086725403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: <oldbill2@comcast.net> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com From: oldbill2@comcast.net X-Original-Message-ID: <060820041209.13980.40C5AC8C0006E4200000369C2200745672CD0404070D0B0401@comcast.net> X-Authenticated-Sender: b2xkYmlsbDJAY29tY2FzdC5uZXQ= X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 08 Jun 2004 12:09:48 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 073 girl in trouble (MMMMF hist) Lines: 399 Date: Tue, 8 Jun 2004 16:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/48166> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: hoisingr, dennyw <1st attachment, "Rebel 073.txt" begin> Rebel 073 (Old Bill) (MMMMF hist) A Girl in Trouble And then my friend Constance T - - got me involved with a courtesan the likes of which I had never seen. She was, despite her youth, a grande dame of the Tory hierarchy or pecking order, and once Howe himself was out of the way, I was told, she would be right at the head of the overdressed, amoral and irreverent parade. Her name does not matter; she is now a grandmother and well thought of by most of her friends and all of her family. But back in the revolutionary times, she was something else entirely. Her problems, evidently, arose when one of her many lovers discovered that she was in communication with one of old George's numerous agents in the city and threatened to expose her as an enemy agent unless she bowed to his obscene wishes. That was when my friend Constance called for my help though the offices of Madam Von R--. So, of course, off I went like some ill-kempt knight- errant. The young woman made me wait in her well-furnished sitting room and then produced a most entertaining entrance, dressed in well-studied dishabille from her silk-clad toes to her carefully coifed hair-do with its dangling curls. She offered me her hand, and I stepped right up to her, grabbed her by the back and buttocks and planted a open-mouthed kiss on her pouting lips, lapping at her tongue. She gasped, snarled, struggled and then put her arms about me and ground her belly against me. I had guessed right again. Our mouths melded and our bodies entertained each other. When we got our lips apart and sat side by side, her hand on my thigh, mine on her buttocks, and I asked how I could be of service. "You can kill General Frombly, the bastard, kill him dead," she said sweetly into my ear. She licked me. I kneaded her. "Is that all?" I asked. I gnawed her neck. She stroked the end of my prod. "No," she said, leaning back a bit and presenting her breasts to my mouth, "I've had a note from my friend Mrs. T -- about you, and I can hardly believe what she had written." Her hand slid a bit closer to my groin as I resisted nipping her jutting tit which had tumbled from her loosely tied gown. "Really," I said. "Well, what should we do first, adjourn to your bed or dispose of this Redcoat?" She laughed, jiggling her full breasts that stood corset-free beneath her flimsy wrapping. "He will not be here for an hour or so," she said, licking her lips, "but I hardly think that is enough time for us to become really well acquainted." "True, true," I said, "but we should not waste time either, should we?" She was a tall, slender, luscious woman, a bit slim in the hips for my taste, but she sported a fine pair of high, firm boobs and a very erect carriage and slender neck. She was also quite handsome, beautiful if you will, with a sharp jawline, patrician nose and deep-set eyes. A stunner, that is what she was and very likely still is. I stood, offered her my elbow, and she rose and took it, her gown loosely flapping. Up the grand stairway of her impressive home we strode and into her blue bedchamber where she turned into my arms and offered me her mouth. "Now," I said, kicking the door closed, ignoring her open mouth and holding her hips. "Tell me what is going on." She put her head on my chest and sighed. "I'm so tired of pretending," she said very quietly. "And I'm sure some of my servants are in British pay." We sat thigh to thigh on a window seat, holding hands, and she poured out her discomfort with her way of life and her fears of the future. I consoled her with kisses and petting, arousing myself in the process until my hardness was difficult to ignore. She slipped to her knees between my legs, flipped open my foreflap and freed my raging member. She reared back as it sprang up, hand to her mouth, eyes wide and eyebrows arched. "M'lord," she cried, "Connie did not lie." She grabbed the hot ram with both hands, kissed its spongy head and pushed it into her mouth through pursed lips. She was as talented a cocksucker as I ever ran into and with one hand on my shaft and the other pumping away at my ballocks, she brought me up to a straining climax in a very few minutes. Then she licked me clean, tucked my once-proud ram away and buttoned me up, smiled and resumed her seat. I moaned and she kissed me like a cousin. "Now," she said, licking her lips, "when he gets here, he may bring one or two other men with him. I fear I have been asked to do as many as a half-dozen of his foul friends on several occasions." "Why?" I asked, returning her kiss and bobbling her firm breast. "I am alone in the world and I must eat." I nodded and slid my hand inside her loose gown to cup and weigh her tit. It was warm and silky smooth and its nipple was erect and pointed. It weighed half a stone at least. A tap at the bedroom door stopped any further exploration. A black maid appeared and said, "He's here, ma'm." She bobbed up and down, glanced at me and disappeared. The young woman ushered me into an adjoining room, a dressing room from the look of it and warned me to be silent. Then she hurried off, adjusting her flimsy clothes. I found a chair and was about to relax, made drowsy by the girl's ultra-competent sucking, when a commotion down below brought me to my feet, nerves alert. I hurried out into the hall and looked down to see not only an officer in full fig but also a covey of Redcoat infantrymen who were in the process of dragging the young woman from her home, her shoulders bare and gown flying behind her. I hesitated, mentally counting and estimating my chances of preventing her capture. Her cries were very plaintive, but she never revealed my presence and the door soon closed behind the knot of uniformed men. From a front window I watched the carriage and its string of mounted guards depart. I hurried down the back stairs, saddled my mare and went in pursuit, keeping a decent interval as I did and trying not to think what the girl might have been suffering in the carriage. I knew what I would be doing to her. At one of the many large houses the occupiers had commandeered, the party stopped and the woman was forced down some steps below the front porch and though a small door into the basement, her sheer robe flowing loosely about her limber body, one pink-tipped breast fully bared as were her long legs. The squad of mounted grenadiers, if that is what they were, rode away. I found a place to hide my mount and waited for dark. People came and went, mostly officers, and when the place was completely dark, I approached, pried open a ground level window and dropped into the cellar as quietly as I could. Huskily, I whispered the girl's name, and a man's voice yelled, "Grab him" as a shuttered lantern was flung open. Two large men jumped me while the officer before me held the lamp high, a grin on his face. Although he was in his shirtsleeves, I guessed he was indeed the general who should have been the target of my efforts. I tossed one man over my shoulder, turned and hammered down the other with a good, straight right and left and then felt a blow to the back of my head and fell to my knees, my eyes filled with flashing light. Another blow floored me and I played dead, not wanting any more of the same. They dragged me into a cell-like room and left after a kick or two in the ribs, locking the door. "Now your reward," the gruff voice said as another door creaked open, "I'll give you, let's say, a half-hour of her time. Aw'right? And I'll leave y'the lanthorn so you can see to do your work." The girl's screech was followed by the sound of a meaty slap. "Don't," she cried as men laughed, "don't, don't. I did what you asked." As I explored the dark and windowless room I was in with my hands, I had to listen to her sobs and moans and the soldiers' grunts and cries of pleasure as flesh smacked together loudly and steadily. It seemed to go on much longer than thirty minutes and by then I had found nothing but smooth stonework and a very solid door with an iron lock and hinges on the outside. The men across the way were called back eventually and I stood at my door and said the girl's name several times before she responded. I told her I was sorry. I told her we would get out of this. She just sobbed, saying it was her fault, that she had betrayed me. Somehow the night passed. They came down and fetched me out very early in the morning. I had pissed in a corner where it smelled as if many others had done the same so I had eased my morning erection and tried to husband my strength, sure I would find a way to extricate myself and the young woman, seeing her lush body in my mind's eye. I was brought before the general, now in his fine uniform, my hands tied before me. He asked me my name and so on, and I told him what I chose. He asked how I knew the woman, and I looked at him blankly. "You were at her house," he said. "We know that." I just shook my head and said I did not know what he was talking about. "Give him ten," the general said, "no, make that twenty and bring that bitch up here to watch." They hauled me out and tied me to a heavy pole in the courtyard with my hands roped high above my head. Then some soldier ripped my shirt apart and another started flailing away at my back with a long whip. I had been lashed before and this fellow really did not know his business. It hurt but it really was tolerable. He might as well have been beating me with a club. Then the young woman was brought forth and placed on the other side of the pole, facing me. I smiled at her. They tied her hands nearly as high as mine were and then tore away what was left of the upper part of her light dress and flimsy shift. Her lush breasts were pressed against the rough wood as she withstood a dozen lashes on her bare back, gritting her teeth but never crying out, her eyes locked on mine. I fear I blinked each time she was hit. We hung there all morning and as the sun rose higher and the flies became more common, we both were in some torment. I smelled food and assumed that something might happen after they ate. The girl and I had yet to say a word to each other but we had exchanged tight smiles from time to time as we tried to flex out battered bodies and stretch our aching arms. Picking his teeth and smiling, the general came down where we were tied early in the afternoon. He grabbed my queue and pulled my head back. "We're giving you to the Hessians, m'lad," he said. "They need bayonet drill." He spat on me and turned to the girl. "You go to the Germans too," he told her. "They have a house full of your kind. Most there serve twenty or thirty sweating men a day. How long do y'think you'll last?" He pinched her nipple hard and walked away, still sucking at his teeth. ÔHaul `em off," he yelled at someone I could not see. Soldiers untied us both and then rebound our hands behind us. I watched as they pawed the girl in the process. Then they pushed us back down the cellar steps and left us there in the dark. My back stung like fire and I am sure hers did too. I worked at her knots silently and when I gave up, she worked on mine and very quickly got me loose, a lesson about women's fingers I should have learned already. I untied her and held her, stroking her bruised and bloody back. She moaned and kissed me. I pulled her dress up over her chest and pushed her beneath the steps. Then I explored the basement and found a set of stairs that led to the front door where I had seen them take the girl. I tried the door and then found a key in the lock and opened it and peered out. Two sentries stood near the front steps, their backs to me. The street was quiet. I went back to the girl who stood bent over, breathing hard. "We must try to escape, run for it," I said. "I'm not sure I can," she said. "They really hurt me last night, buggered me hard." "I don't see another way," I said just as the door above us open and someone said, "Haul them up here." I hurried the girl to the front door, pulled her out under the steps and then jumped out to attack the guard on the near side. I tripped him, took his musket and bayoneted his partner, nailing him to the cobbled street after he fell. I yanked the musket loose, leaving the sticker in him, and grabbed his cartridge case. Then I hauled the girl out and we ran for the trees. As we got into the treeline, I heard cries behind us, but I quickly found my horse, got the girl in the saddle and slapped the good animal's flank. "Head toward the river,' I yelled. "I'll be right behind you." The girl pulled on the reins and slid from the saddle. "We go together," she said as I knelt and checked the pan, assuming the musket was loaded. I drew out my bayonet. The guard I had knocked down, his hat askew, charged right into our hiding place and then stood there, astonished, as I slashed his neck, nearly decapitating him. He fell and we had two weapons. "How many men in there?" I asked as I reloaded. "Four guards, I think," she said. "Two horsed me last night and I'm sure there were two on duty then. I heard them talking about that." Across the open space between the big home and the forest came five men, two redcoats, the general, and two black uniformed Germans, sabers raised. I handed the woman my bloody bayonet and fired twice in quick succession, knocking down one of the Germans and wounded a Redcoat. I reloaded a musket, but when I looked up from behind the fallen tree where we hid, I could see no one. I reloaded the other musket and clamped on my bayonet. I pulled the other gun to full cock and handed it to the girl. I braced its butt against a limb and pointed it out where they had been. "When I say fire," I said, "you fire. Just squeeze, hold it down and squeeze, don't yank the trigger." She nodded. A crunching to our left was followed by a cry of "Over here. I see them!" "Fire!" I yelled and the girl did, flinching and ducking her head. Out of the underbrush came a Hessian and I blew him away, the heavy ball knocking him right off his feet. I heard the Redcoat behind me before I saw him but whirled in time to take him on my thick bayonet and heave him over my head and into the nearest tree. I reloaded with shaking hands. "How many is that?" I asked the girl quietly. She shook her head, eyes blinking. Then she cried, "Look!" I turned to face the general, a heavy pistol in his hand and fear in his face. I stood and smiled at him as he put both thumbs on the dog head to cock his weapon. I swung my musket like a cricket bat and smashed the gun from his hand. He turned to flee, tripped over a root and sprawled before us. I got him up and walked him out of the woods to the place where a wounded Redcoat lay, trying to stop the blood flowing from his thigh wound. I was glad to see I was still aiming low as I had been taught. I made the general kneel, helped the man fix a tight bandage on his leg and then said, "Now, you will be our witness." He looked at me dumbly. I unlocked my bayonet and handed the woman my musket. Then I tossed the general's wig away, lifted his chin and put my blade to his neck. "Beg," I said. He begged, soiling himself as he did. "Apologize to this woman, beg her forgiveness." He did, tears rolling down his plump cheeks. "Look away," I said to the girl. She did and I cut the man's throat from ear to ear, spraying the ground with his blood. He flopped, his eyes open in death. The girl and I found my horse, and I helped her mount. We made it back to her home by nightfall, washed each other's back and slept in her bed, exhausted. In the morning, I managed to ignore my condition, as did she. A doctor was summoned and put some kind of ointment on our backs. He went off and we rested, anticipating a visit from other Redcoats. None came. We slept together again, chastely, and the next morning I was happy to awake with a raging erection that demanded attention. I nudged the lovely girl beside me and slipped back the quilt. "Is this," I asked when she opened her eyes, "what my friend Constance wrote you about?" "Indeed," she said, rising on one elbow and rubbing her eyes, "it is indeed." "And you feel up to entertaining it this morning?" I asked. "Not on my back," she said, "but I will do my best." After we coupled happily side by side, and in various other interesting positions, the welts on my back ached but eventually I lay there, holding my root at its thick base and she mounted me carefully and slowly, twisting her way down my shaft with a grimace on her fine face. Then she took me though the paces from walk to gallop and back again several times, enjoying herself fully. After that, a bit rubber-legged, we both made it down for some breakfast. I went back to the war after another day of recreation. <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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