index


Message-ID: <47850asstr$1084738203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 045 (Mf hist)
Lines: 383
Date: Sun, 16 May 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




<1st attachment, "Rebel 045.txt" begin>

Rebel 045 (Old Bill) (Mf hist)

The Irish Girl

	Once more I was waylaid and my good intentions got me no 
closer to my struggling and retreating company.  A light carriage lay 
leaning precariously into a ditch, both off-side wheels well buried, 
perhaps burst apart, the boxes that had been atop it broken open, 
clothing scattered.  The horses were gone and a still body lay 
sprawled across the driver's seat, one bloody arm dangling.  Inside 
the ruined rig I found a small young woman in velvet traveling 
clothes lying under a rather corpulent and very dead gentleman, his 
large wig still on his bald head.  I heard her whimper, pulled the 
heavy body out of the carriage by its feet and then assisted her to 
the road, admiring her trim legs, mass of curly hair and tidy form as 
I did.

	"Thank you," she sighed, looking up at me, trying to 
reassemble herself, brushing her fancy dress with both hands and 
nearly freeing her small breasts from her stays as she did so.  "Is he 
dead?"

	I nodded.  The man had evidently been shot in the back of the 
head.  Judging from his dress, he had been a very prosperous 
person whose shoes still carried silver buckles but whose purse was 
surely missing.

	"What happened?" I asked the tiny girl as she pushed her hair 
back behind her ears and took a deep and entrancing breath that 
swelled her chest beyond the ability of her filly shirt's powers of 
concealment.  She saw my gaze and buttoned her jacket about her, 
at least partly concealing her bulbous charms with their prominent 
peaks. I doubt that she was five feet tall and she certainly weighed 
no more than seven stone, but she was surely a woman despite her 
diminutive size and sported an incredible set of jugs.

	"Road agents," she said.  "Three of them.  When the rig went 
into the ditch, I fell to the floor, curled up and pulled the rug over 
my head.  They dragged him out, robbed him and then shot him.  
He fell atop me.  I don't think they knew I was in there."

	"Probably not," I said, sure they would not have ignored so 
tasty a morsel.  "He your father?"

	She shook her curly head and grinned at me.  "No," she said, 
"he hired me to accompany him.  He was in shipping, back in the 
city, China or India trade I believe.  He had many curious things."

	I smiled back at her and wondered what to do next.  "Let's 
get away from here?" I said.

	"Just leave them?" she asked, waving at the dead men.

	I nodded and helped her up on my horse, shortening the 
stirrups while she adjusted her dress, tucking her shift beneath her 
and spreading her wide skirt behind on the horse's back.  When we 
topped a hill and left the rougher part of the old road, I tossed her 
skirt to the side, mounted behind her, enjoyed the feel of her firm 
rump in my groin and her legs within my thighs, and gave my feet a 
rest and my prod a pleasant place to rise.  We stopped at the first 
tavern we came to, a place where there was a small mill and a ford 
across the stream. By then I was sure she knew she roused me since 
my cock was hard, fat and in her ass's crease.

	We had barely settled at a table, when the girl hissed to me, 
"It's them, over there; those three robbed us.  I saw two of them 
when they stopped the carriage."

	I looked where she nodded.  Three rather rough characters 
sat at a table drinking rum and enjoying themselves.  One had a 
stack of coins before him, and while we watched, divided with the 
other two.  Then they finished their drinks and left.  We ate, 
introduced ourselves to each other, and enjoyed idleness.  She was 
Lily, she said, Lily Maguire and she was twenty.  I believed the 
name but not the age. After all, her chin barely reached my chest 
and her skin was as soft and smooth as ivory.

	"How long had you known him?" I asked, "the man you were 
with."

	"A fortnight," she said.  "He was really very nice, a gentleman, 
never rough. He bought me this." She pulled on the lapels of her 
embroidered jacket.

	"Very pretty," I said.  It was probably an hour or so before 
sunset, and I was tempted to leave her there, confident she could 
make her way in the world, but another part of my mind was eager 
to bed her and enjoy her since, obviously, some of her talents lay in 
that fleshy direction if she indeed earned her bread on her slim back. 
My evil mind pictured her dancing on the end of my throbbing pole.  
"Where's your home?" I asked.

	She exhaled.  "New York, I suppose," she said.  "Much as 
anywhere."

	"No folks?"

	She shook her head.  "I came over indentured, five years 
ago."

	"You don't sound English?" I said.

	"Irish, I was," she said with a smile.  "Now I'm American."

	"You have friends in the city?"

	"I do," she said, smiling. "Mostly men."

	"Well," I allowed, "let's do a few more miles before dark."  It 
seemed like a good suggestion at the time, and I looked forward to 
wrapping her in my blanket roll and having her entertain my 
hardening ram, but fate, a cruel fate, intervened.

	"Lookee here," said the highwayman who appeared on the 
road just a mile or two beyond the fording place. "A shitkicker and 
his doxy," the man cackled, and that was the last thing I 
remembered for some time.  When I awoke, I lay face down in the 
roadside ditch, my shoulder ached like fire and I had a large and 
sticky lump on the back of my skull.  The first thing I heard was 
laughter and piteous cries for mercy.  I pulled myself out of the 
muck, surprised to find that my right arm was not working very 
well.  I felt at my shoulder with my left hand and, after a bit of 
poking, found that my collar bone was broken or dislodged and that 
I had a bayonet wound that went all the way though me from back 
to front.  My shirt was blood soaked.  I tried to push my bone back 
where it belonged and almost fainted from the pain so I stuck my 
right hand inside my shirtfront and put my mind on what I was 
hearing.

	"Please don't, please, please," the girl screeched.  "No more, 
no more.  I can't." And then she was still.

	"Suck it, you bitch," a guff male voice demanded.  I crawled to 
the hillside, saw a small campfire and found myself a spectator at a 
crude rape.  One of the men below was humping the naked girl from 
the back while another knelt before her, holding her head up by her 
hair and trying to feed his turgid cock into her mouth.  The third 
man squatted by the fire, watching the other two and playing with 
his pale, limp member.  I felt at my waist and found my belt and 
bayonet as well as my new pistol missing.  I was useless, unarmed 
and left handed.

	The man kneeling behind the small, bare woman shuddered, 
groaned and withdrew while the robber forcing her to suck his 
member pulled it from her mouth, laughed and pumped a gob of jism 
into her face and hair.  She collapsed to all fours and then lay on the 
ground, rolled to her side and pulled up her knees.  She looked like 
a small child.

	I could see blood on her white thighs and trickling from her 
nose.  She moaned steadily and sighed, "Please, please, please" over 
and over.

	"Y'want another go, Jess?" one of the men said as he buttoned 
his waist.  The man at the fire shook his head.

	"Wan' me to kill `er then?"  The lean man who had been 
buggering her asked, drawing my big knife from my belt.

	"Naw," the burly leader of the group said.  "She's a good 
piece.  Leave for the nex' man."

	The man laughed at that, stood, picked up his musket, kicked 
out the fire, and then the three mounted up and left.  I had no idea 
how long they had been at it, but the moon had risen so I knew it 
had been at least a couple of hours.

	I crept down the hillside, being careful not to stumble and put 
strain on my injured shoulder.  When I touched the girl's bare back, 
she cringed and cried, "Please, no, no more."  I patted her and made 
soothing noises.

	"It's me," I said quietly, stepping back to find her white shift in 
the glow of the fire's embers.  I brought it to her and went looking 
for her skirt and shoes.

	She sat up and held her shift to her round breasts with their 
small nipples.  "You're dead," she said.  "I saw them kill you."

	I crouched beside her, put her skirt down and balanced myself 
with my left hand.  "I'm hurt some," I said, looking at her teary face.  
"I'm sorry."

	"Not your fault," she sniffed, standing and pulling her torn 
shift down on her well-formed body.  Blood had dried on the inside 
of her thigh.  She saw here I was looking.  "They poked me with 
something," she said, "bayonet maybe, or a knife. I was too tight for 
them, clamping my legs together."

	I got the fire started up again while she went searching for her 
shirt and jacket.  She limped to where I sat, and I turned my back to 
the fire and peeled my shirt from my right shoulder.  "Take a look at 
this," I asked, and then I felt her fingers at my wounds.  

	"Looks terrible," she said, "but it's not bleeding much now."  
She tore her fancy shirt to ribbons and bound up my shoulder as 
best she could and then made a narrow sling and tied my wrist to 
my neck.  It took us the best part of an hour to make our way back 
to the stream we had forded.  I got her up on my left shoulder and 
waded across, gritting my teeth at the pain.  We stumbled together 
into the stable, lay in the corner of a stall, and she went to sleep 
cradled in my left arm.

	Since neither of us had any money, I had to do some fast 
talking and hard promising in the morning to get us some breakfast.  
Then I had her wash my wounds and examine them in the daylight.  
"Looks like you could use some sewing up," she decided.  "Want to 
look where they cut me?"

	I hesitated and she said, "Please," sat by the well and pulled 
her heavy skirt into her lap.  The inside of her thighs was bruised 
and battered, and beneath her sparse curls, her small nether lips 
looked swollen and torn, especially at the base of her groin.  I 
brought a handful of water to her barely-hairy quim, washed away 
the crusted blood and could see where she had been cut.  

	"You're healing, but it looks nasty," I told her as she pulled 
down her skirt.  The inn-keeper said there was no doctor for miles 
about but that a mid-wife's home lay just up the road.  We thanked 
him and walked there.  The woman eyed us suspiciously, left me on 
the porch and took the girl inside.  They emerged nearly an hour 
later.  

	"I sewed her up," the woman said.  "She's young.  She'll be all 
right, I think, if you give her time to heal.  Some women tear like that 
when they birth.  Let me see your shoulder."

	I peeled off my shirt and the girl's make-shift bandage.  The 
woman screwed up her mouth, made me sit on the step and then 
put several loops of heavy thread into my upper chest and high on 
my back where the spike had gone in.  "You're mighty lucky," she 
said.

	We thanked her, promised to pay when we could, and walked 
back to the tavern where I hoped to earn our keep by doing some 
one-handed chores.

	"I could lay a few men," the girl said.

	"Not for a while," I said.  "You don't want to rip open again."  
She looked at her feet. 

	"It's all I know," she said.

	We were sitting by the well, talking about next steps when a 
man came out of the back of the tavern and headed for the privy.  
"Look," whispered the girl.  "He's got your belt on."

	She was right.  Their three horses plus the one we had been 
riding were in the stable, and it was undoubtedly the gang that had 
raped her and tried to kill me.  I ordered the girl up to the loft, told 
her to be quiet and went to wait by the wooden necessary.  When 
the lank man emerged, doing his buttons, I stepped in front of him, 
blocking his way.

	"What the?" he said and then he looked up and his eyes 
widened.  I hit him very low in the belly, dragged him back behind 
the stable, drew my big knife from his hip and covered his mouth 
while I emasculated him and then spilled his guts out in his hands.  I 
left him kneeling in a puddle of blood and intestines after yanking his 
purse from his waist.  I buckled on my belt, felt my blade's sharp 
edge and headed for the inn.  The bulky leader of the group and I 
almost ran into each other at the back door. Surprise was on my side 
as I yanked him to me by his shirtfront and buried my bayonet in his 
belly until I felt it strike bone.  He clawed at my shoulders, mouth 
agape, and I pulled the knife out and let him fall, stepped over his 
shuddering form and through the back door.

	The third man was tipping up his glass when I came to the 
table.  He sat the glass down, looked up and said, loudly, "I done 
kilt you."  I dragged him outside, took him back behind the shed 
where his partner's body lay in its own gore and then cut him open, 
pulling the blade upward as he screamed.  I found the group's 
leader still breathing, dragged him back beside the other two, tore 
open his britches, whacked off his member and stuffed it in his 
mouth.  I collected the other two purses and retrieved the girl from 
the loft.

	We now had four horses, several weapons and a lot of money.  
I paid the inn-keeper what we owed and then gave him another 
crown for a room.  "I'll give you the best of their three horses if you 
get rid of the bodies out there," I said.  "Dump them in the river."

	"Damn," he said.  "You got all three of them skunks?"

	I nodded and he shook my left hand.  "Do it for nothing," he 
said.

	The girl and I sat and enjoyed a meal and some good ale after 
I washed the crusting blood from my hands and arms.  We talked 
about the future, and I explained that I was a soldier and had to get 
back to my company before they came looking for me.  I suggested 
she stay and apprentice herself to the midwife, but she smiled at the 
idea and said she would go back to the city. "I can afford a stage, if 
they're still running."

	"You're too pretty to be traveling alone," I told her.

	"Hm," she said, "such humbug."

	We retreated to the room we had rented, helped each other 
undress and got under the quilts in the lumpy bed.  We kissed and 
felt each other, excited and pleased to be alive.  Her firm, warm 
body writhed under my hands, and she snorted with pleasure.  I 
ignored the pain in my shoulder, squirmed my way down after 
kissing her small breasts and deep navel and tongued her tight 
cunny until it relaxed.  I sank my tongue into her and then licked 
upward to find her tiny prick.  She held my head and squealed with 
joy, spread wide her legs and took deep and shuddering breaths as 
her quivering outer lips pulsed and became wetter and wetter.  
Finally she spasmed and climaxed, humping against my face as my 
tongue throbbed deeply into her tight tunnel.  When the tremor 
passed and I withdrew with a final nip at her erect nubbin, I kissed 
my way north again over her warm body, sucked each of her 
breasts until she pulled my head away and then gobbled up her 
mouth.

	She curled, contented, in the grasp of my left arm, one of her 
legs across mine, her hand feeling through the hair on my chest and 
stomach and my unhappy prod in the bend of her knee.  I kissed her 
forehead and held her quietly, enjoying the feel of her small body on 
mine.  She rubbed my stubbled face.

	"I could feel your whiskers down there," she said, "but that 
was grand, what you did.  I never had a man do that for me, 
never."

	"I'll shave," I told her, and she giggled, sliding her hand down 
to find my turgid member.  She cupped its spongy head and stroked 
its growing length, and then she wiggled down, held my hips and 
licked it repeatedly, long steady strokes up along its base and the 
big blood vessel that throbbed there as it swelled and hardened.  
She kneaded my stones gently and then took both hands to my rigid 
spar, stroking down and down until I exploded in her grasp, filling 
her mouth.  She licked the head of my straining pike and then kissed 
my belly and clambered up to lie against me again, her head on my 
chest. We slept.

	I awoke with a small girl lying beside me and an enormous 
erection rising atop my belly.  I knew I was not going to try to put 
that thing in her tortured quim so I jiggled her awake and tossed 
back the quilt.  She rose on an elbow and looked at it and then at 
me.  "Poor thing," she said, crawling down until she crouched beside 
my hips.  She cupped my swollen ballocks with her right hand and 
held my straining cock with her left and then she took its huge, 
purple head in her mouth.  She licked, sucked and stroked for what 
seemed like an hour before my hips began rising and falling beneath 
her, and I felt the tremble of passion surge through me as she raked 
her teeth along my overheated rod.  She pulled her mouth back to 
the head as I came, spouting streams of thick, white cream that 
overflowed her mouth and oozed down her grasping hands.

	She looked at me, eyes wide, "That must hurt," she sighed, 
wiping her sticky hands on my belly.  Once more she sucked me, this 
time until my shaft became limber, and then she let my member plop 
to my stomach and crawled back into my arms.  My hand slid down 
to hold her warm mound and my little finger probed within her 
while my thumb circled her tender clitoris very gently.  "That's nice," 
she moaned, heaving her moist slit against my hand.  I got two 
fingers deep into her before she made me stop after spasming a time 
or two and flowing her juices over my wrist.  "Enough for now," 
she said.

	"I must go," I told her, and she kissed me and wept on my 
chest while my good hand patted her hard bottom.





<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+