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Message-ID: <48048asstr$1085919004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 064 Tiera (MF hist)
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Date: Sun, 30 May 2004 08:10:04 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 064.txt" begin>

Rebel 064 (Old Bill) (MF hist)

Tiera

	The next time the old madam sent for me was an entirely 
different matter.  "There is in the city," she said, looking very cross, 
"a young woman I want you to go see, to recruit if possible.  She is, 
I am told, second only to Mrs. Loring in the female pecking order."

	"A whore?" I asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

	She nodded. "Courtesan is the word they like." She snorted 
derisively.

	"Why, Madam?" I said.  "We've got good contacts now."

	"She evidently knows all the nabobs, the high mucky-mucks.  
She's Welsh, I think, perhaps she's a Scot.  Her name is," she picked 
up a note, "Tiera, did you ever hear such a thing, Tiera Mac-
something-or-other. Here's her address; well a description of her 
home really.  She certainly lives well, this one." She handed the 
paper to me.  "Go see her; talk to her; convince her if you can, 
threaten if need be; she may be very valuable to the cause.  Money 
won't do it, I'm told.  They call the silver slut, say her cunny is a mint 
and her arse a crown jewel."

	I nodded and stood, smiling at the old woman's casual crudity.

	"Take this seriously, you big ape," the madam said, "it will be 
dangerous, but I think it is important or I would not send you."

	The brick house was in a part of town untouched by the fire 
and stood behind an ornate wooden fence.  The place looked 
somehow prosperous, well kept while many other homes in the area 
appeared deserted and dingy.  It also looked empty from the street, 
windows shuttered, and I wondered if I was in the right place or if 
the woman had moved.  In the back was a carriage house, a tidy 
stable and a brick privy.  The black stable man, who was mucking 
out stalls, said he did not think anyone was "t'home."  I knocked at 
the back door and when no one responded, entered by using my 
bayonet as a pry tool and stood still, listening, ready to explain 
myself.  Not a sound reached me.  It was late afternoon with the sun 
settled down in the almost-leafless trees.  I roamed the well-
furnished rooms, read a few book titles, examined a couple of prints, 
rummaged through a small desk and found the place deserted so I 
mounted the carpeted stairs and ensconced myself in the biggest 
and fanciest bedroom with a bottle of wine, some sausage and a 
hunk of bread, pulled off my boots, stretched out on a comfortable 
chaise and waited, not quite relaxed but accepting the opportunity 
for rest.  When you soldier for a living, you never miss a chance to 
rest, piss, roger or eat.

	Halfway through the claret with the sun setting, I must have 
fallen asleep.  I awoke when I was kicked in the thigh and looked up 
at a lovely tow-head who was standing with her hands on her sleek 
hips, grinning down at me, her face painted scarlet by the sun's last 
rays.  Her tumbled hair, neatly disarrayed I am sure and dangling in 
long curlicues, was nearly colorless and her eyes were the palest of 
blues, nearly transparent thought I.  She had a lean body that would 
make a saint weep, an open invitation to carnal pleasure displayed in 
a violet sacque dress obviously built just for her, bejeweled and 
made of the richest brocade and silk, with a V-pointed bodice aimed 
right at her belly.  Her petticoat was big enough to be a tent for a 
half-dozen men and she stood with her feet well apart and a curious 
smile on her lovely face.  Her globular breasts, at last half free of her 
dress's neckline, rose and fell steadily.

	"Miss," I said, nodding to her and getting my feet to the floor, 
"good-day t'you."  I did my best to lay in a bit of a northcountry 
twang, a Scottish sound I hoped.

	"Who the `ell are you?" she asked sharply, "an' wot the `ell are 
you doin' in my room, in my house f'that matter, drinking my wine, 
dirtying my furniture?"

	I reached up, held her chin and kissed her sweetly.  "Cousin," 
I said with a smile, as I peered down the front of her tight-fitting 
dress at a fine pair of barely restrained orbs, "you told me to visit 
when I was in the city.  Don't you remember."

	She frowned up at me.  "I'd recall anybody big n'ugly as you, 
y'smelly yahoo.  You better get out a'here `fore I sic the dogs on 
ye."

	"I'm hurt.  I bathed and shaved just before I came, really I 
did."  I put a hand on her raised hip, pulled her toward me and took 
another brief kiss, sliding my hand down over her firm buttock to 
pull her a bit higher.  "And I didn't note any dogs out there, just old 
Charlie."

	"Stop that," she said, pushing on my chest with both hands.  
"Wot the hell are you doin'?"

	"I want to talk to you," I said, dropping the accent.  "It's 
important.  I think you are in some danger."

	"I will be if I don' change," she said as her forehead wrinkled.  
"I've a big an' important rout tonight an' I'm near fagged out now." 
She swirled away from me, seemingly talking more to herself, as I 
held her hips.  "Did a pair of randy cavalry types this afternoon, 
showoff braggarts they were."  She wiggled free of my groping 
hands and began unhooking the flat front of her fancy dress as if I 
did not exist.  "You can stay here until I get back.  Be quiet.  I will be 
late.  You've got my curiosity up and running."  She rose on her toes 
and gave me a kiss and a quick lick with the tip of her tongue.  Then 
she slapped my cheek and cried, "Marie, get in here!"

	A black maid hurried in and helped the white-haired girl 
change her clothes into a flowing gown of some gossamer stuff that 
was cut almost to her waist, barely hung across her upright breasts 
and exposed almost all of her spine and the rise of her butt; the 
French style, I later learned.  She pulled a transparent golden shawl 
about her shoulders, pirouetted and smiled and me and then hurried 
off without a word, clamping gold bracelets to her thin wrists and 
sliding her feet into golden slippers.  The maid hung up the 
discarded clothes and ignored me steadily.  I wondered where she 
had been hiding.

	"Good master is she?" I asked, having resumed my 
comfortable seat.

	"I'm free," the black woman said.  "Ain' got no massa 
nowadays, mistress neither."

	"Sorry," I said quickly.

	"She fair, that one; crazy I think, but fair.  You be nice to her."

	"Can I get something to eat?" I asked her, and she beckoned.  
I followed her down and sat at a plain table in the shed-roofed 
kitchen and shared her cold meal and cider.  We talked some, but I 
learned little so I retreated to the fancy bedroom and made myself 
comfortable, turning up a lamp when the light completely faded and 
reading the thick novel I found on the small table by the big bed.  It 
was a romance of the worst sort filled with sentences hundreds of 
words long which described actions between the sexes I thought 
banned by all civilizations.  I finally shucked off my britches after 
hearing the clock chime two and crawled under her counterpane 
with just my shirt on.  It was a fine and comfortable, high-canopied 
bed with a thick mattress that raised it nearly four feet from the 
floor.  After sleeping on the ground and in cold cellars, I was in 
heaven, rejected any doubts I might have had, routed out a hip hole 
and slept soundly, my knife within easy reach beneath my pillow.

	I woke when the girl crawled in beside me.

	"Make yourself right at home, why don'cha," she hissed.  
"Such nerve."

	"Um," I said, tumescent but not overly eager.

	"Goodnight," she said, turning away from me and rubbing her 
buttocks against mine. I dropped back to sleep, warm and happy, 
barely aware of the smell and warmth of her.

	She woke me with an elbow in the ribs in a softly pink dawn. 
"You snore like a damn'd sawmill," she whispered, "an' there's 
something goin' on down twixt your legs I don' want to even think 
about."

	I raised my knees so the tenting would not be so obvious and 
smiled at her well aware of my fierce erection rising above my belly, 
but hesitant to push my luck, I pressed it down.  My ram leapt 
steadily, pulsing with my heartbeat, rubbing alongside my leg.  I put 
a fingers to my stones and found them hard and swollen.  She 
tossed the covers back and gasped, hand to her mouth.  She was 
wearing what appeared to be a man's dress shirt with long puffy 
sleeves and flapping ties hanging loosely at her neck.  It barely 
covered her privates and since it was unbuttoned and the shoulder 
seams were halfway down her arms, it fully displayed her fine boobs 
with their pink and pointed tips.

	"I can take care of that," she said.  "Won't take but a minute 
and we can get back to sleep."

	"That thing stays hard a long time," I told her.  She grinned at 
me wolfishly, pushed my legs flat, put a hand on my belly and got up 
on her hands and knees, bending to examine my morning erection as 
if it were some sort of natural phenomena.  She poked it with a 
fingertip and glanced back at me.  "That's the worse thing I ever 
saw," she said, "an' I've seen a few."  She opened her mouth, licked 
her lips and then took my prong's huge, purple head between her 
lips, twisted herself about and licked at the sensitive area on its 
underside just beneath the ridge.  I closed my eyes and made some 
sort of noise, and she started to hum, vibrating her lips on my raging 
member, grasping it firmly at its thick and hairy base.  She ran her 
fingernails up and down the ridged stalk, massaged the head with 
her flicking tongue and then grabbed my stones and gently 
squeezed. I could not help myself and came, groaning and pumping 
as her cheeks caved in with her sucking and swallowing, and she 
steadily scratched with one hand and held my balls with the other, 
pressing gently, watching me from the corner of her eye.  

	When she was sure I was done, she flopped down beside me.  
"Good morning," she said, licking the stickiness from her lips.  I 
kissed her and cupped one lush breast, pushing her loose-fitting 
shirt from her rounded shoulder. "I haven't slept with a man for 
some time.  Who are you?" she asked quietly, leaning away and 
pulling up her nightshirt.

	I told her my name, said I was in the Maryland Line, and that 
a good woman, who suspected she might be in danger, had sent me 
to see her.

	"Did you plan on putting that, that foul post into me?" She 
flicked the limp, tubular thing that lay athwart my belly, still blood-
filled and pulsing. I barely felt it.

	I smiled at her, and turned toward her, feeling my prod 
warming again and rising toward her navel.  "Up to you," I said.  
"You were awful nice to it just now.  I never had that kind of 
treatment," lied I.

	"Such a story, a lie with a latchet.  I'm hungry," she said.  "I 
worked hard last night, made fifty quid I expect.  You can be patient 
now, I'm sure."  She picked up the tiny bell on her bedside table the 
shook it. Nothing. She looked at me, puzzled, and I handed her the 
small clapper I had removed and put on the floor near the top leg on 
my side.  She fixed and rang the bell with an odd look on her face, a 
sort of puzzled amusement.  Nothing seemed to surprise her.  I lay 
on my side so my growing need would not be so obvious.

	The same maid appeared, ignored me, and nodded herself 
from the room after the girl told her to bring us a big breakfast; 
eggs, ham and everything she had in the kitchen.  "I have to feed 
this mule," she said as the servant departed.

	"That will take a while," she said, turning her face toward me 
and reaching down to grasp my rising mast.  It more than filled her 
hand.

	"Not long enough," I said, pulling her toward me and gnawing 
her mouth.

	"Then tell me why you are here," she said, stroking me gently 
after our tongues had met, running my loose foreskin up and down 
my overheated shaft.

	"Independency," I said.  I kissed her nose and eyes.

	"G'on," she said. "Politics?"

	"Sort of," I said, bending to kiss her nipples.  "We want to rid 
our land of these base Redcoats, foul Germans and their Tory 
friends."  I put on my most upright voice and knew I sounded 
pompous.

	"Why?" she asked, suppressing a laugh and bringing my hand 
to her groin and covering it as I gently probed into her, thumbing 
her nubbin and exploring her curls.

	"Why?" I demanded, letting my voice rise as if I were making 
a speech out in the street.  "So we can be free, madam.  Make out 
own mistakes. Pay for our own foolish government.  Settle where 
we want and trade with who we wish.  Get rich or go broke, all on 
our own."

	"Don' get so excited," she said, smiling as I got a finger deeply 
into her tight quim and fiddled it about.  "You know y'can't beat 
`em."  She licked under my chin against the grain of my stubble and 
stroked my hard member somewhat faster.

	My thumb found her erect nub again and diddled it some 
which she obviously liked.  "They'll never beat us," I said very 
seriously.  "This is a big country.  We can lose every battle and weÔll 
never give in.  They will tire and then ..."

	The maid pushed open the door with a huge and heavily laden 
tray in her hands.  "Sit up," she said to me, and when I did, she put 
the tray in my lap, pressing down my eager stalk.  I popped my 
finger out of the white-haired girl and smiled up at the black woman.

	"Thank you, Marie," the girl said, wriggling to get up beside 
me with her shirt hanging open in a very disturbing manner.  We sat 
to our meal, gobbling eggs and toast with sweet jam, gulping sugar-
laden coffee and enjoying pieces of ham and rare beef in cold 
biscuits.  We ate like starved people, and finished in jig-time, wiping 
our mouths on our sleeves.

	"Now," said the charming girl in the sunlit room, "if you will 
set that aside, we can greet the day properly."  Her hair looked 
nearly silver.

	"Don't you do enough of this sort of thing in your work?" I 
asked as I carefully put what little was left on the floor and wiped 
my hands on my legs. 

	She pounced on me, gobbled up my mouth and straddled my 
middle.  I held her hips and jabbed my hot lance upward until it hit 
the right spot, pried her open, pressed past the guardian muscle and 
sank into her.  She lifted her chin, keened and descended on the 
rigid thing, twisting right and left as she did.  Her knees came up 
beside my ribs and her hands slid down to my belly and she rode 
me long and hard, bouncing up and down four or five inches as her 
throbbing passage became slick and smooth.  She looked very happy 
in her work, and I just lay back and enjoyed watching her jounce 
and jiggle as she rogered me in that big-sleeved white shirt, her fine 
hair flying wildly as her pace increased.  She had tireless thighs and 
hard buttocks muscles.

	She came with a shudder and a cry, her eyes closed and mouth 
open, and I exploded up in her moments later, holding her to my 
loins as I did and overfilling her.  Then she fell to my chest, my rod 
still held tightly within her.

	"Damn," she sighed, "I haven't felt anything like that in me 
since I was raped on the ship an' that was nearly five years ago.  
One a'that gang poked a club in me, a `laying pin he called it."

	"Would have been a sight better if you hadn't sucked me off 
this morning.  That took the starch right out of me."

	"Can't imagine," she said, writhing to get comfortable while 
still impaled.

	"Tell me about the ship," I said, one hand cupping her firm 
butt and the other stroking her smooth back, fingers probing her 
spinal trench.

	"I came here with a contract, in a shipload of indentured folk, 
Scots for the most part, mostly young men, come to that; we sailed 
from the firth we did.  I guess we had eighteen, twenty women and 
twice that many men, perhaps fifty and some boys, a number from 
the jails, y'know.  We didn't all make it across, but most of us did on 
one meager meal a day."

	"How old were you?" I asked, enjoying the feel of her hard 
nipples and soft belly on my body, her silky hair at my chin.

	"Hm," she said, "fourteen or fifteen I guess.  I ran away from 
the place where I lived.  It was a pigsty, a hovel, dreadful hole, don' 
want to talk about it, awful."  She shuddered and then nuzzled her 
face into my shoulder, stretching up on me as my member began to 
revive, barely between her wet and quivering lips.

	"A week or so out, the mate came down in the `tween decks 
where we slept and dragged me and another young girl out."  She 
stopped, and I waited, still smoothing her skin and enjoying the 
warmth of her lean body, the feel of her bare thighs outside mine, of 
our fluids flowing down my spear and onto my ballocks.  "So, well, 
while the captain dragged the other girl away, down to his cabin, 
the mate made me kneel up on deck and forced me to take his prick 
in my mouth, squeezed my cheeks and held my nose, he did.  So I 
bit him."  She sniffed as my fat rod quivered and jerked a time or 
two.

	"He had me tied to the mizzen mast, and then he rammed one 
of those wooden pins into me.  I wasn't no virgin, hadn' been for 
some time, but that tore me open, it did.  I bled, and he shoved it in 
again and again until I guess I fainted.  I remember looking down 
and seein' the thing sticking out of me when I awoke. All bloody it 
was."  She took a deep breath and wiggled as my refreshed pike 
hardened and grew.  "He left me there all day and had the crew use 
me any way they wished, guess there was twelve of them, `bout 
that.  Seemed like a lot more at the time.  Then he forced me to suck 
him and threw me back into the hold."

	I patted her and rolled her over, taking my weight on my 
elbows as we got back into a slow rhythm of heaving hips, our 
bodies sliding together, massaging each others groin, pubic bones 
rubbing.

	"It got worse later, much worse," she said, tears in her eyes.  
"Lor', that's wonderful." She arched up and wrapped me in her 
legs.  "They opened the hatch between the men and women's area 
`bout every fortnight and let the men use the women.  Many were 
pregnant when we got to Virginia.  I never was."

	After we exhausted each other, we dressed, sat in her over-
furnished parlor with its fringes and paintings and discussed my goal 
in coming to visit her.  She shook her head negatively from time to 
time, but she listened.

	"Look," she said after a while.  "I live very well these days.  
I'm safe and protected, well cared for, very well paid for what I do.  
I eat good food, have more clothes than I can use, jewelry galore, 
and do not lack for anything I can think of right now."

	"Except freedom," I said.

	"I even have that," she said, making her soft mouth a thin line.  
"Got my paper and my freedom dues all stashed away."

	"That's not what I mean," I said.  "In my state more than half 
the people got there indentured, but more than a hundred years 
later, we're still not free, none of us.  We're all British slaves."

	"What do you want me to do?" she asked softly, hands 
clasped.  "I'm just a woman, a trollop at that.  I've no interest in 
your politics or your rebellion."

	"Provide us with information, anything you hear that you 
think important or interesting."  She nodded her understanding if 
not her agreement.  "And help us grab a few officers now and then, 
especially dangerous ones or men that have special knowledge of 
their plans."

	"Kidnap?" she asked, really surprised.  "Isn't that 
dangerous?"

	I nodded. 

	"But if they get loose, what happens to me?"  Her pale eyes 
were wide and worried.  I took her hand and held it firmly.

	"We will kill them, I promise.  Every man you finger, you can 
consider dead.  They'll disappear."

	She shuddered.  "I couldn' do that.  Lord!"

	"Come," I said, "surely there are one or two of those pigs that 
you would like to be rid of."

	She smiled at me.  "There is one right now.  A vile creature he 
is.  Can you really make him disappear?"

	I nodded.  "If I do, will you help us?'

	She nodded.  And then we got down to plotting the demise of 
one major of supply, a fop with a taste for very young girls who had 
forced Tiera to debase herself before his friends and then had 
thrown her wages at her feet, and cheated her at that.

	"Would you like to do him?" I asked her.

	She gave me an evil smile and tossed her curls.  "D'na tempt 
me."

	She wrote a note, inviting the man to her home that evening 
and sent it off with her maid, telling her to wait for a reply.  We 
adjourned to her bedroom, and she sat on the side of her high 
mattress with her skirts in her lap while I served her at some length 
with my hands clasped in the small of my back.  After she climaxed 
the first time, she fell back on the bed, and I held her hips and 
brought her back up for a second and a third roaring orgasm, her 
long legs kicking at the ceiling, before I was done.  We looked at 
each other with amazement and went back down the steps, a bit 
wobbly in the knees but highly pleased with each other.

	"Good lord," she said, looking out her shuttered front 
window, "the foul man himself is coming back with Marie."

	I quickly stood behind the door so that when it opened I was 
concealed, and Tiera sat in her wing-backed chair and assumed a 
placid expression, her eyes flickering back and forth from me to the 
door and down to her embroidery in her hands.  She was lovely if 
slightly flushed.  The door opened.

	"Pardon, madam," said the maid, "but Major . . . "  She got no 
further, as the uniformed man thrust her aside and strode into the 
room.

	"Changed your tiny mind, have you, you filthy, gold-grubbing 
harlot?" he demanded.  I stepped out behind him and relieved him 
of his sword, tossing the blade to the girl so that she caught the hilt 
easily as I clamped my forearm around his neck.

	He spun about and I smashed my fist wrist deep into his belly.  
He sank to his knees with a hand at my waist, and I drove my knee 
into his face, breaking his nose and his front teeth.  He got out a 
strangled cry, falling to the floor, whimpering.  I kicked him in the 
groin a time or two, yanked his purse loose and put it on a nearby 
table.  Then I pulled him to his feet, twisted his arm up his back and 
marched him out to the stable, batted his head against a post and 
left him there with his hands tied to his feet and a rag in his mouth.  
I told the stableman to ignore him, and he nodded with a smile.

	"Do you think he has anything worth knowing?" I asked the 
girl, taking the purse for my own needs.

	"Probably," she said.

	"I'll take him back.  You'll never see him again unless you end 
up in hell."

	She nodded, stretched up, put her hands on my shoulders and 
kissed me hard.  "Hurry back," she said.  "I want to be in the bed 
when you awake some morning.  I won't make the same error 
again."

	That thought warmed me for some time.
	


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