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Message-ID: <47772asstr$1084219810@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 038 (MF hist)
Lines: 389
Date: Mon, 10 May 2004 16:10:10 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 038.txt" begin>

Rebel 038 (Old Bill) (MF hist)

A Near Thing

  The young woman was very pretty and very frightened,
chalk-colored with red splotches on her cheeks.  She trembled;
her lips quivered; her large eyes blinked rapidly.  She sat at a
corner table between two bulky fusilier officers with her hands
in her lap and her eyes flicking rapidly about the room like a
cornered animal. Her full breasts jutted from between her tense
arms, rising and falling with her rapid breathing, round and
plump as squabs.   I was in farmer dress with a heavy pistol in
the back of my bayonet belt so I attracted no attention as I
neared their table with a beer in my hand.  I pulled out the
unused chair suddenly and sat, putting down my can, yanking my
pistol free and poking it into the stomach of the captain to my
right.  He grunted and looked down as I bent a rib and crushed
some of his braid.

  "Are you in trouble?" I asked the woman as I took the right
hand of the lieutenant to my left and crushed it in my fist,
hearing bones snap and feeling them shift as tendons tore.  He
made a small yelp and I clamped even harder.  I could feel things
compressing and moving as he tried to pull loose.

  "Yes," the woman said, nodding and wiping her mouth with the
back of her hand.  "These men are holding me against my will."

  "Tain't true," said the captain.  "And if it was, what's it
t'you?"

  I pushed the pistol deeper in his gut and thumbed back the
doghead to full cock.  It made a persuasive sound, and he started
to sweat.

  "She's the adjutant's intended.  We were just fetching her for
`im," the lieutenant wheezed as I bent back his little finger
until I heard it crunch.  He squealed.

  "I refused him, several times," the young woman said. 
"They're, they've just kidnapped me."

  I looked at the woman's clothes, stylish and expensive if I was
any judge.  Her hair was clean as well as neatly arranged and the
lace at her elbows certainly was pale and very fine.    Her chest
rose and fell rapidly, a fine, deep and youthful chest, fairly
bursting from her traveling dress, hard nippled I guessed,
waiting to be sucked and squeezed.  She wore a dark stone on a
thin chain about her neck.  Her eyes were brown and steady, but
her lower lip trembled. A light scattering of freckles decorated
her cheeks, her stubby nose and her bare chest.

  "You men go on your way," I said, folding the lieutenant's hand
into a ball and then mashing it into the tabletop, "and I'll try
to sort this out.  Next stage will be along soon, I believe."

The young officer grimaced.  "We have our horses," said the
captain, squirming a bit as I kept pressure on his belly with the
muzzle of the heavy pistol, grinding it between a couple of ribs.

  "Rather see you on the stage," I said.  "Let's go check on
that.  Stand up slowly, sir," I said to the officer at my right
as I released my grip on the lieutenant's quivering hand and put
the pistol down to half-cock.  The young lieutenant and I stood
at the same time, and he swung at me with his left fist.  I
blocked his blow with my shoulder and chopped him in the throat
with the edge of my left hand.  He gagged, dropped to one knee,
and I turned my attention to the captain who stood carefully and
slowly.  The three of us left the girl and went to the bar, the
thin lieutenant still choking and holding his neck, bent almost
double, his face turning red, eyes watering as I yanked him along
by the back of his belt.

  "Soon," was all the inn-keeper would say about the stage. 
"Should'a been here hour ago."

  I gave him a coin, thanked him and walked the two men outside
with my pistol still in the captain's back.  "Sit," I said, and
they sat on the bench.  I put my weapon away and faced them. 
"Obviously, I do not know what is going on here.  I assume you do
not want to die for your King while fetching this woman for some
man, a very handsome girl at that."

  They both nodded.

  "I'm planning to leave with her.  I'm going to take your
horses.  You may keep your swords, and your ability to breathe,
piss, swive and spit, if I have your word that you will get on
the stage and ride at least to the next stop it makes.  Captain?"

  He nodded.

  "Lieutenant?"

  He pulled a dirk from his boot and jumped up, yelling, "No,
damn it, no, you rebellious bastard."

  I kicked his feet from under him and then grabbed him at the
wrist and elbow and broke his right forearm on the edge of the
bench, both bones.  I picked up his knife, flicked open one of
his nostrils and tossed the blade into the weeds on the other
side of the road.  The man squealed like a pig, sputtering blood.

  I got him back in a sitting position, opened his jacket and
tucked his broken arm inside.  I thought he was going to faint,
but he did not.

  "He's your responsibility," I told the captain and then I
reentered the tavern.  The girl sat exactly where I had left her,
looking frightened and taking deep breaths, a pleasant sight that
stimulated my already-fight-hardened member as I gazed down the
front of her low-cut dress.  I stripped her in my mind, of
course.  I offered my hand and said, "Come."  She followed me out
the back door, and we quickly mounted, she side saddle hooking
her right leg on the pommel, and we rode off, leading to two
riderless horses.

  A mile down the road, after a good gallop, we let our mounts
walk and turned the other animals loose.  "Where's your home?" I
asked the woman as the stage approached.

  "Don't have one," she said, "that's the problem.  I was my
uncle's ward.  He went back to England when the revolt began and
left me with a friend, a man he was in business with.  His friend
was a lecher, always trying to get into my bed, plying me with
wine, and I went into the city and took a position in a good
home, caring for the children, tutoring them.  That man made
advances as well, their father did, cornered me when he could,
and then those officers arrived, billeted there.  This commissary
officer or whatever he is, proposed marriage almost at once and
demanded that I wed him when I put him off, threatened all sort
of things even though I'm sure he has a wife in England.  I ran
and they caught me, those two back there."

  "Who was your uncle?" I asked.

  She told me, and I recognized the family name.

  "Don't you have some income, some funds?"

  She shook her head.  "My uncle converted it all to his name,
stole it.  I have nothing."

  "I'm a soldier," I said, and she smiled.  "I know I don't look
like one, but that's part of my job." I wished I had not left my
belt and bayonet in camp, leaving the blade to be sharpened.  It
was one of the few times I had been without it.

  "A spy?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

  "Scout," I told her, smiling as well.  "The army can use you,
but it's hard work."

  "Swiving soldiers?" she asked with a grin.

  "No, cooking, washing, nursing, sewing, all sorts of things. 
The other's up to you, the swiving.  Some enjoy that, too."

  "Camp follower," she said and I nodded.  "I have some friends
in New York, in the city, traders, factors, ship owners.  People
who would know who my father was," she said. "Or at least my
uncle."

  "That's a two or three day ride."

  "Still, it might be better, safer in the long run, less hard
work."  She smiled.

  "Your family's loyal then?"

  She nodded.

  "I'm willing if you are," I said.  "Good weather anyway."

  "I have no money," she said.  "Those men took what I had;
wasn't much."

  "I've a bit," I told her, blood money mostly, I thought,
wishing I had relieved the captain of his purse.

  At a cross roads we paused, figured out where we were and
headed south, trotting and walking, trying not to tire our
animals.  She rode sidesaddle easily and seemed at home on her
horse despite the awkward position.  I found out that her name
was Jane and that she was twenty-two.  I could see she did not
wear heavy stays by the pleasant way her breasts jounced when she
trotted.  She had long legs and a determined look. She sat a
horse well, and I guessed she would be exciting in bed.  Other
than that, I knew little about her as darkness slid across the
land and thick clouds gathered in the west.

  We had hoped to find a tavern or farm home where we could stop,
but settled on a glen near a stream, ate what little I had in my
saddle bags, and then I spread my blanket roll near the small
fire.  "You sleep for a while.  I'll sit up and guard for a bit."

  "You think those two officers will chase after us?"

  I shook my head.  "Woods are full of men who'd kill for our
horses, especially yours."

  She lowered her eyebrows at me, lay down and covered herself. I
sat with my back against a tree, telling myself to stay alert.

  She woke me by shaking my shoulder.  "I hear voices," she said.
 The fire was out and false dawn was lightening the s  ky.  I
istened.  My back ached, my legs were cramped and my cock was
hard.

  "Jethro," a man said, "I know I saw two riders last night,"
somebody said.

  "Maybe," said a different voice.

  "Nothing by the creek," said a third.

  "Damn," said the first.  The woman sat beside me holding my arm
against her body.  I checked my pistol's pan and brought my
carbine where I could reach it.

  Then one of our horses whinnied and shook his head.  We had
hobbled them, loosened their cinches but left them saddled.

  "This way," yelled one of them.

  "Sure nuff, Jethro.  Two a'them.  I was right," said another.

  "Where's the people?" somebody asked.

  "Hiding.  We don' need `em."  We looked from behind our tree
and saw three men leading away our horses, back toward the road
to New York City.

  "Long walk," I said to the girl.

  "We need some food," she said, breathing deeply.

  "And some horses," I suggested.

  The sun as high when we reached a decrepit tavern, washed off
at the well, found our horses in the stable, still saddled, and
went inside.  Three nondescript men stood at the bar, drinking. 
They looked like they had been drinking for some time.  I put the
girl at a corner table, handed her my half-cocked carbine and
went to stand behind the drinkers, three farm workers by their
dress but well booted.

  "Jethro," I said.

  The big man in the middle turned around, his belly hanging well
over his belt.  The other two looked at me curiously.  I pulled
my pistol from behind me.  "You stole my horses," I said softly.
"I want `em back."  His eyes got very shifty.  He licked his
heavy lips.

  "You alone, boy?" he said.

  "Cept for the gun in the corner." I pointed with my thumb.

  "Uh huh," he said.

  "I don't want to kill you or your friends here.  Just want my
horses."

  "Humpf," he said and a short knife appeared in his right hand.
I hit him high on the side of his head with the gun barrel, and
he fell straight down as if his spine had dissolved.  The man at
my right started to pull out his pistol, and I poked mine in his
belly and said, "Don't."  He took his hand away and I pulled out
his gun and stuck it in my belt.

  "Get him out of here," I said, and the two of them hauled
Jethro outside, his toes dragging.  They poured a bucket of water
on him, fetched their horses and left after I dumped out the pan
and gave the man back his pistol.

  "No hard feelin's," he said with a sickly grin.  I went back in
the tavern.

  "Think they'll be back?" the girl asked as we ate and drank.

  "Doubt it.  They're horse thieves.  I treated them well. 
Nobody's hurt bad."

  "Cept the man whose skull you cracked."

  "He'll have a headache, I spect."

  "Guess we ought to be going," she said.

  "Less you want to go upstairs for some exercise," I said,
excited by the brief fight, hopeful but mostly in jest.

  She smiled, stood and headed for the back door with my carbine
in her hands.  I paid for the meal and offered the man a couple
of shillings for the horses' oats.  He pushed them back to me. 
"Enjoyed seein' Jethro get whacked.  Do him good," he said.

  Five or six miles down the road it started to rain, and then we
got thunder and lightening.  Since the road was nothing but dirt,
it soon became a muddy river.  We ducked into the first tavern we
found, happy to be out of the worsening weather.  I think the
horses were too.

  We ate another good meal, shared a bottle of dark wine, and
went up to the low ceilinged room under the eaves without much
talk.  I sat on the bed, pulled off my boots and watched the
young woman undress.  She had a strong, compact body, short on
fat but long on curves, and she was wearing a set of very light
stays, a waist cincher some called it.  She pulled her shift over
her head, tossed her hair loose and came and stood between my
knees, putting her hands on my shoulders, her pear-shaped breasts
jutting out in my face and her belly trembling.  I touched the
dark blue stone hanging between her breasts, trying to ignore her
pointed nipples and the triangle of dark fur between her legs.

  "You are a natural wonder," I said, standing, my hands sliding
from her hips to her back and down again.

  "What do you mean," she said, squirming under my hands and
leaning back to look up at me, our legs and bellies rubbing as I
held her firm butt.  My cock rose.

  "I never saw anybody so calm, " I said as I pulled my shirt
over my head and she worked on my waist buttons.  "You been
through a kidnapping, horse stealing, bar fight and rainstorm. 
Nothing seems to bother you."  I stepped out of my britches and
tossed her into bed.  She laughed, rolled over and held out her
arms.  Paradise beckoned.

   After the first time we came, almost together, moaning and
shivering, welded together, we settled into a much quieter
pattern of give and take while the bed groaned in time with us. 
"You know," she sighed as she stroked my shoulders and arched
beneath me, drawing me deeper, "you're the first man I've had by
choice, the first I wanted to swive.  Lord, it's wonderful,
wonderful.  Can't we just stay here an do this?"

  "Wish we could," I gasped, reaching back for reserves that were
no longer there.  She clamped me in, and we rogered on until we
could do no more, exhausted and clinging together, hoping for
more energy and finding sleep.

  I awoke, fiercely hard, rolled her over, kissed her and took
her.  Swiving is always good, but this was wonderful, cooperative
and passionate, seemingly endless.  When we were finally spent,
laughing and gasping, we breakfasted and got back on the road. 
We crossed the river on an old ferry, and I went on into the city
with her, eager for more of her lusty body.

  Her friends were no longer where she had remembered, evidently
driven away.  I knew I was pushing my luck, but I decided to stay
one more day, for one more night and morning of exhausting
lovemaking.  It was a terrible mistake.

  The major who had kidnapped her spotted us on the street and
set up the hue and cry.  We scampered through alleys and by-
ways, and I had her wrist in my hand and was dragging her toward
a canal gate when we heard the first shot.  She pulled loose,
stumbled and hurried into a doorway.

  "Run," she said, waving me away, "run.  It's me they're after."

  I hesitated, looking into her eyes as another ball struck the
paving stones and screeched away.

  "Go, damn you," she cried.  "Go."

  I went and glanced back at the corner to see her step out and
face the men running toward her. I have regretted that decision
at least a hundred times, and some nights, especially when it is
raining, I can close my eyes and see her face as she climaxed
under me.
   <1st attachment end>


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