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Message-ID: <48180asstr$1086808201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 074 widow (MF hist)
Lines: 440
Date: Wed,  9 Jun 2004 15:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 074 widow.txt" begin>

Rebel 074 (Old Bill) (MF hist)

A Recent Widow

	"There is a woman in town," the old lady said with a tiny 
smile, "oh, you are going to enjoy this, a woman who has been 
recently widowed.  She has been a fine source of information about 
the British navy and about Tory enterprises."

	I nodded waiting for the ax to fall.

	"I want you to go see her and do whatever she wants; 
comfort her."

	"Yes'm," I said, thinking I had better bathe and shave, 
assuming I was being sent to comfort some mature ladyfriend or 
dusty crone.

	Several hours later I was led into a parlor and told to wait.  A 
few minutes after that the young woman spun into the room in a 
dress of blue-green silk, her dark hair cascading down her back.  I 
stood and she came directly into my arms. We kissed, hungrily.

	"Welcome," she said, stepping back and looking me up and 
down.  "I do not wear widow's weeds at home, only in public.  
How is my old friend, Madam Von R--?"

	"Very well," I said, undoing the row of small buttons that ran 
down the front of her tight-fitting dress.  She did not seem to 
notice.

	"She did not tell me she was sending such a large person," she 
smiled up at me as I concentrated on her buttons and the feel of her 
lush breasts against my hands.

	"I think she enjoys surprising people," I said, peeling her 
bodice from her and tossing it onto a chair.  She had a magnificent 
body.  I popped her right breast free of her stays and bent to nibble 
its startled nipple.  Her ripe globe overfilled my hand.

	"Do you plan to serve me right here?" she asked, yanking her 
quart-sized boob free of my mouth and shrugging her shift's 
shoulder strap back in place.

	"Wherever you say," I told her.  "The old lady said I was to 
do what you asked."

	"Well, then," she chuckled, "slow down."  She gestured to a 
chair and sat on the wide sofa, ignoring the fact that she wore no 
bodice and that I was very obviously hard, hard as her jutting dugs 
which rose warmly above her lace edging of her stiff corset and then 
ducked back into their nests as she breathed, presented as if on a 
decorated platter.

	"My husband was a fool, which means that I was also a fool, 
but then I was barely sixteen and he was nearly sixty when we wed.  
He was a Tory, of course, once the revolt began, rich and vile."

	I nodded, admiring how straight she sat, her pointed breasts 
stretching the lace and silk that barely covered them, her long legs 
primly crossed at the ankle.  She raked back her hair with both 
hands and smiled, raising her white globes still higher.  She wore 
tight and fancy stays, back laced.  She sat up very straight, elbows 
back, breasts jutting forward, mounded and ready to suck.

	"He deflowered me, of course, in a vulgar and violent manner, 
draping the sheet out the window, and then he nearly ignored me 
except to come to my bed when he was drunk and incapable of 
doing his duty.  He died in another woman's arms, in a, what shall 
we call it, a baggnio?"

	"When was this?" I asked, crossing my legs to conceal my 
growing hardness.  Her stays not only cinched in her narrow waist, 
they also pushed up her wonderful orbs so that half those lush 
mounds glowed above the trim of her fancy shift.  I could hardly 
wait to gobble them up.  They were the size, I estimated, of 8-pound 
shot.

	"He's been dead two months, no, a bit more, nearly three, 
dead and buried and unmourned."

	"How long were you married?" I asked, not ready to guess 
her age.

	"Six years," she said with a sigh.

	"How could you bear it?" I asked, noticing that one of her feet 
was tapping.

	"We traveled; Charleston, the Bermudas, London, Nice, Spain, 
Portugal, Boston.  He was in trade, wine and tea.  He visited 
whores in every city I am sure, came home smelling of them."

	"Why?  I don't understand," I said.

	"I was a decoration, a foolish child.  His taste in things sexual 
was very, what shall I say, very . . ."  She took a deep breath.

	I waited, finding nothing to say.

	"At first I was faithful, faithful and dutiful as well.  But then I 
began, after the British came to New York, I began entertaining 
some naval officers."

	She smiled and I returned her smile.

	"I was very discreet.  I did not know he was having me 
watched.  And when he confronted me, I collapsed, surrendered.  
He beat me, defiled me, debased me.  After that he began bringing 
men home for me to, to, well, you understand.  All of them had 
perversions of one kind or another.  I've been whipped, abused, 
sodomized, tortured, branded." She flipped up her hem and 
showed me her burned thigh.  "He watched it all, enjoyed it."

	"And since he died?"  I asked, watching her recross her legs, 
rubbing her thighs together.

	"Nothing, but then I am in official mourning and may not 
receive guests, men especially."

	"I am assigned here week by week,'" I told her since it was 
just about true.  "So you can hire me as your driver, stableman, 
whatever you need."

	"What I need right now is that long, hard thing you are hiding 
between your legs," she said.  "Let's go upstairs and we will discuss 
your employment and your, shall we say, abilities and equipment."

	"Wait," I said, as eager as she was at least, "do you trust your 
servants?  Who hired them?"

	She resumed her seat and bit her lip, taking a deep breath 
which nearly unhorsed me as my prong leapt to attention.  "You're 
right." She nodded, lifted and rang a small bell.  Then she put her 
bodice back on and buttoned it halfway up, granting me a small 
smile.

	The black man who had admitted me appeared.

	"Ramses," she said to him.  "How long have you worked 
here?"

	"Mr. Toll, he hired me `bout the time he married you, ma'm," 
the man said with great respect.  "Just before."

	"Did you tell him about my male visitors?" she asked, raising 
an eyebrow.

	"Oh yes," he said rather mournfully, "every one of them."

	"You are discharged," she said quietly.  "I will give you a 
pound for each year of your service.  Is that fair?"

	The black man nodded.  "I had to do it."

	"I understand," she said.  "Did the others also report on my 
behavior, my comings and goings?"

	"Oh yes," he said.  "We was all a'feared of the master."

	She stood, said, "Wait," went to a desk and found a velvet 
purse.  She put several coins in the man's hand.  She sighed, "Tell the 
cook and the maid that I must let them go.  Give them each a pound, 
a silver pound."

	The man nodded.  "And the stable lad?"

	"He spied on me too?"

	"Oh yes," the elderly man said.  "The master paid him for each 
tale."

	She handed him another coin.  "Give him a crown and tell him I 
do not want to see him again."

	"Yes'm," the man said, looking at me from the edge of his eye.

	 "Will you see to it that they leave?" she asked me.  "And 
leave quickly."

	I nodded and followed the butler out of the room.

	"She's a fine woman," the gray-haired man said.  "He was a 
bastard."

	"Can you be loyal to her?" I asked.

	He nodded.

	"And ask her pardon, her forgiveness?"

	"We had no choice.  He made us tell.  Threatened the women, 
said he would sell them to the slave drivers."

	"Get rid of the stable boy and hire another as soon as you can.  
Keep the money.  Tell the women it is a gift from their mistress."

	He looked at me doubtfully.

	"I'll take care of it.  You serve the lady well and she will pay 
you well.  I will speak to her about granting you, all of you, your 
freedom."

	He nodded.

	I went back to the parlor.  "Let's go upstairs," I said, taking 
her hand.

	"What about the servants?" she asked, looking worried.

	"I think you can trust them," I told her.  "Be wary, guard your 
privacy, but I think they will serve you properly now that your 
husband is not around to bully them.  You might well consider 
manumission."

	She nodded.  "I'm glad, and I have thought of that.  Molly's a 
good cook."

	"You will need a new man in the stable," I said as we mounted 
the long stairway, hand in hand, both eager and tasting it.

	"How much do you want?" she asked me as she opened her 
bedroom door.

	"Oh, a shilling and keep," I said with a laugh.

	She began undoing her buttons.  "And keep?"

	"Yes," I said, circling my arms about her and caressing her silk-
covered breasts, sucking her neck.  "You may be sorry.  I'm very 
hungry."

	"Do you intend to eat me?" she asked quietly after wiggling 
free.

	"Indeed," I said.  "I've not seen anything as tasty as you in 
some time."

	We undressed quickly, I helped with her stays,  and then we 
stood facing each other, both bare and glowing with desire.  She 
managed to keep her eyes away from my groin where a huge spike 
rose topped by a carmine mushroom, jumping wildly and pointing up 
toward her nose; I managed to take in her whole lovely and 
womanly body with its rich triangle of auburn hair between her 
mounded thighs and the dark, hard, jutting nipples on her upturned 
breasts that sagged just slightly from their weight.

	"My god, but you are hairy," she said, placing her hands at my 
waist. My horn was nearly as long as her forearms; it bumped at her 
navel and rubbed along her puff of a belly.

	"And you are beautiful," I said, cupping her breasts and 
palming her nipples.  "How do you like to do it?"

	"Slowly," she said with a smile.  She stepped to me and my 
cock slid up her belly to be mashed between us as we kissed.  "And 
deeply, and for as long as possible," she said, disengaging her mouth 
and stepping back.  She looked down and then up at me.  "I'm not 
sure I believe that," she said.

	It looked to be some sort of ugly cudgel.  "It's all yours," I told 
her as we rolled under her quilts.

	"I haven't had a man for six months," she sighed as our legs 
tangled and my hands roamed her body.  "Don't hurt me."

	I got one finger into her as I sucked her breast and then 
another while my thumb searched for and found her sensitive nub.   
Her vagina squeezed at the intruders.  I switched to the other tit, 
licking it to hardness as I curled my fingers in her moist depths and 
she groaned and shook.  I nibbled.

	I kissed my way down her body, licked her upper thighs and 
outer lips, then drove my tongue deeply into her while my hands 
held her heaving hips.  She climaxed, arching her body into my 
mouth.  I kissed my way back up her warm body, lapping at her tiny 
prick, sucking at her navel, laving her nipples, lapping between her 
globes, gnawing her neck, kissing her ears and them easing my 
tongue into her mouth and my rigid prong into her cunny.  Both 
were welcomed. Her legs rose and spread wider, much wider.

	Almost at once we were in locked together and acting with 
complete abandon.  Any thought of a slow and gentle joining 
vaporized as I speared her relentlessly and she humped her body up 
against mine, grinding us together and gasping out nonsense.  I 
came rather quickly, jolting several shots of jism into her depths, and 
she spasmed again, crying out wordlessly with her neck arched and 
her eyes closed.

	I rolled us over, held her close and whispered, "Slowly," in her 
ear.  We were both sweat slick and she giggled in response.

	"By damn," she said later when she stopped, both gasping for 
breath, "by damn, sir, that was wonderful. I've never known such a 
swiving.  I must write the madam a thank you note."

	I smacked her buttocks twice, sharp cracks, as my rigid root 
quivered within her, regaining its strength.  "Don't joke about such 
things," I said, "she believes I sit and read poetry with the women 
she sends me to see."

	She laughed heartily and then managed to rotate herself upon 
my swelling spear until she was facing my feet.  Then she pulled 
herself up, rode me hard for some time and collapsed back upon me 
when she climaxed again.  My hands roamed her body, caressing 
her breasts and exploring her mound as my root continued to throb 
and butt into her until I came again, arching her and pumping out my 
pleasure until she was overfull and leaking fluids down across my 
scrotum.

	Over I rolled us, lifted her rump and let her head and arms 
rest in her pillows I finished my first hour of service to the lady in 
what some call animal fashion, but up on my toes, knees bent and my 
hands filled with her buttocks. She enjoyed another orgasm after I 
was able to reach under her and stimulate her nubbin, but I was 
done for, thoroughly spent and finally fell back beside her, my 
proud phallus a soggy tube across my belly.

	She bent over me while I stroked her smooth back, licked my 
sore member, kissed it and then tongued it into her mouth.  I lay 
back, unbelieving, as she sucked me deeply into her throat, one 
hand on my thigh and the other on my chest.  She got it hard and 
when she was satisfied with her work, abandoned it with a smile 
and mounted me like a jockey, leaning forward so I could lap at her 
breasts as she rode me to oblivion, crying, "Yee, yee, yah," as she 
did.

	When she had had enough, sobbing though a series of 
passionate peaks, she fell down on me and I held her until my 
sodden member slipped from her cloying grasp.

	"A good start, sir," she said as she rolled out of bed.  "A 
modest beginning."

	"I'm ruined,' I told her.

	"Weakling," she said as she used the chamberpot.  "I thought 
we could manage three or four more couplings before supper."

	I groaned and she laughed.

	I clambered to my feet, chased her about the room, caught her 
near the door, pressed her chest against it, kicked her bare feet 
apart and hoisted her on my ram, bringing her right off the floor.  I 
held her to me, walked her to her bed, let her fall forward and gave 
her much more than I believed I could, grunting the thrusting until 
she squealed, "Enough, enough, quarter for god's sake."

	I withdrew my spear, flipped her over, crawled up along her 
body and dangling my spent root down into her gasping mouth. She 
licked it and then somehow swallowed it, gasping for breath on the 
outstrokes and snorting as it slid back down her throat.  It was 
soothing, wonderful with her lush breasts rubbing the inside of my 
legs but I finally had to admit I was emptied and pulled free of her 
sucking lips, kissed her, and got dressed while she lay there spread 
wide open and dripping fluids.

	Then I found her a robe, wrapped her in it and helped her 
down the stairs since her legs seemed a bit wobbly.  We ate cold 
chicken and drank white wine while the cook and maid fussed over 
their mistress, ignoring her flushed appearance and her disordered 
hair.

	"These naval officers who paid you court," I said after we 
were well fed and the biscuits were all gone, "have they anything 
useful do you think?"

	She nodded and licked her bruised lips. "There's one, a ship 
captain, terrible braggart, hung like a mouse he is but very vain.  
He's an insider."

	"Would he come if you beckoned?" I asked.

	She smiled and nodded.  "Like a rat to cheese."

	 "I've been asked to get some specific information," I said.

	"Ramses will take him a note," she said, ringing her silver bell.

	That taken care of, we adjourned to the bedroom and tried 
several more positions before sleep claimed us.  One she seemed to 
particularly enjoy had me standing at the side of her high bed with 
one of her long legs up on my shoulder and the other bent to the 
side, plunging in and out of her with utter abandon until we both 
were spent.  She was one of the few women who took my morning 
erection without comment or noticeable effort, and we welcomed 
the dawn with the woman up on her shoulders, her legs about my 
waist and I on my knees with my hands on the headboard, using it 
for leverage to bring her to one more gasping, shuddering orgasm.  
I succeeded and we went down to a well-earned breakfast.

	The Royal Navy captain arrived for tea in late afternoon.  I 
took him down to the cellar, hung him up by his feet and questioned 
him while I wielded a hickory pole on his bare skin.  When I finished 
with him and had what little he knew salted away, he was a mess, 
bleeding from several crosscuts, his privates barely attached and 
hardly recognizable, his face a pulp and one nipple gone entirely.

	He whimpered and begged when I gave him his choices.  He 
decided he neither wanted to drown nor to hang.  I offered to 
bring him a pistol and let him end his own life, but he also declined.  
"Well, then, captain, " I said, "What shall we do with you.  The lady 
who lives her is a dear friend of mine and I fear you would babble 
away to your betters.  Shall I cut out your tongue?"

	He fainted.

	I dragged him out to the stable, tossed him in a pony cart and 
hauled him to the river where he roused himself and begged for his 
life, promising all sorts of things.  Eventually I accepted his pledge to 
be silent and to leave the area as soon as he could.  I warned him 
that any violation would lead to a most painful death, and I 
described what I would do before I skinned him.

	He threw up.

	Back at the house, I got him his clothes and then took him into 
town, releasing him on a street corner known for its cutthroats and 
pickpockets. I was told, much later, long after the revolt was over, 
that he became a Member of Parliament, a very conservative one.

	The woman and I passed an enjoyable few days together, and 
I regretted having to leave her. She gave me a note for the Madam, 
one the old lady refused to show me.



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