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The Colonel's Daughter
by Readoldbill (no address provided)

***

A soldier finds a kidnapped girl and earns a fine 
reward. (M/f-teen, nc, rp, v, hist, military)

***

They probably should never had let the girl wear 
britches. It might have been all right when she was 
twelve or thirteen, but I doubt it. It was certainly a 
mistake when she was nearly sixteen and her round 
bottom stretched the heavy material to its fullest and 
her thighs and well-shaped legs were enough to stop a 
man's heart when her saw he sashay past with high 
boots clacking at her knees and a thick belt about her 
small waist. 

She wore man-style shirts as well, the full-sleeved 
kind you pulled over your head, and she seldom 
bothered to button them up which was more than a bit 
distracting considering the size and shape of her 
firm, young bubbies which were rounded melons of about 
two pounds each and looked soft and comfortable, 
places to lay your head. She was crowned with a huge, 
flowing mop of dark-brown hair that appeared 
completely unmanageable, and she had the face of one 
of those angel statues you see in some old churches in 
Maryland. Damn, but she was a pretty one.

Her father kept her with him as an aide and general 
lackey, sending her off on errands of all sorts and 
with messages to other officers in the camp. He was a 
civilian but attached to the much-hated quartermaster 
and since this was well before Greene's time, that 
office was usually a mess, chaos on wheels some called 
it.

But the girl, Gloria-something was her name, she was 
enough for us to forgive her father all his 
incompetence and failures to deliver on repeated 
promises of food and supplies. When she galloped past 
on her little chestnut mare with her tri-corn on the 
back of her curly head, all work stopped and hundreds 
of hungry eyes followed her out of sight. She and her 
father were, as far as anyone could tell, oblivious of 
her effect on the army, and they both spurned all the 
young swain's advances with a laugh. Her father seemed 
completely unconscious of his daughter's beauty.

Then she disappeared. Vanished. She was been on an 
errand for her father, traveling the few miles between 
two camps which involved no more than crossing one 
fordable stream and a ride of a few minutes, and she 
was gone, well within our lines so we thought. No 
trace of her, and no sign of the horse.

Our company, then at leisure after some rather 
spirited rear-guard work, got the job of finding her, 
and since the lieutenant was then occupied with one of 
his sprightlier doxies from the sparse group of camp-
followers, we were pretty much on our own. "Find the 
stupid girl," was the extent of his order, "And don't 
come back till you do."

*

Three days later, I found her and, for a while, wished 
I had not. Someone had cut off most of her hair, 
probably with sheep shears, and she had a black eye, a 
fat lip and a very forlorn expression. I hardly 
recognized her face, but the body was unmistakable.

She looked like a whipped dog, jumping at every loud 
noise, her eyes wary and her step hesitant. She was 
working in the kitchen of a large tavern with a repute 
for crooked gambling and foul women. It was well 
within the area of British control, and its clientele 
was entirely loyal males and a mix of military and 
farm trade. The girl hurried food from the kitchen, 
avoiding pinches and groping as much as she could, and 
carried the empty dishes and trenchers back to wash, 
her flapping sleeves rolled up above her elbows. She 
was barefoot and wore a shapeless dress of 
linseywoolsey several sizes too big for her. It was 
all she wore which was obvious since the thing gaped 
open every time she bent to do her work reveling her 
pert breasts and bite marks.

The man behind the bar saw me looking at her. He was a 
one-eyed ruffian that must had weighed twenty stone. 
"She'll do y'wif 'er han's, out back, fer a shilling," 
he said. "She ain't worth fuckin' right yet, ain't 
broke in proper." He guffawed and made a crude gesture 
with his hands, gripping his wrist and sliding his 
fist up and down. "We's stretchin' 'er, we is."

"A shilling?" I said. "Shit, I got hands."

"Y'kin poke May over there for three shillin's if 
she's got the time."

"Looks poxed," I said, glancing at the slovenly women.

"Girl'll be a crown when she's fit, tamed and ready 
for rogering." He grabbed a passing woman by the 
forearm. "How 'bout this 'un; she'll do y'proper for 
three, won' cha Dee? Any way y'wants. Do it standin' 
on 'er head, she will." The woman pulled free, looked 
at me with disdain and went to tend her tables.

I put a shilling on the bar. "I'll take her around 
back," I said.

"Be quick," the gruff inn-keeper said, pocketing the 
coin.

"Up to her," I said, heading for the kitchen. He 
laughed and turned his back to me.

The girl jumped when I touched her and then turned, 
wiping her wet hands on her stained, dun-colored 
dress. "Come," I said, nodding toward the back door. 
Her head drooped but she followed me, took my sleeve 
and led me to a shadowed alcove. She was fumbling with 
my foreflap buttons when I said, "Gloria."

Her head snapped up and she put a hand to her mouth. 
"No," she said, "No, I'm not. No!" She sniffed, shook 
her head and dug out my big pintle gently.

I put my hands on her slim shoulders while she stroked 
me very competently, circling the warm head of my root 
with her thumb. "Gloria," I said, "I'm here to help 
you." My prod hardened and jumped in her fingers.

"No," she said, "can't. He'll kill me, tear me apart."

"Come," I asked, pulling myself free of her 
stimulating hands.

"No, no," she squealed, turning quickly and running 
back to the kitchen, bare legs flashing. I put my 
randy member away and followed, wondering what was 
going on, even doubting she was the right girl.

The door crashed open and there stood the bulky bar 
tender, hands on hips. "What are you about?" he 
demanded.

"Girl didn't finish," I said, scratching my groin. 
"Ran off."

"What'd you say t'her?" he growled.

"Harder," I said, trying a smile on him, "just harder. 
That's all I said."

"Aw right," he said, calming and flipping me my 
shilling, "but leave 'er alone. Damn bitch cost me ten 
quid an' I plan to get it out a'er hide."

"I understand," I said and followed him back to bar 
and got another watery beer. The girl continued to 
skitter about, enduring grabs and pokes from the 
customers, one of whom pulled her to his lap and dug 
his hand into the front of her dress. She struggled 
free, exposing one upright breast and earning laughs 
from the men at that table. The pink-nippled breast 
showed teeth marks in the brief glimpse I had. She 
refused to even glance my way.

By dark, I had found a card game and frittered away 
some of my coins, and I had also taken in a good bit 
of beer. The three whores posing as bar maids had done 
a steady business, but Gloria had been generally left 
alone as men got down to serious drinking and even-
more-serious gambling. When I had enough, I left, used 
the vile outhouse and tied my horse back in the woods 
with a feedbag on his nose.

Eventually the men left, the lamps went out and, I 
assumed, the inn-keeper and his doxies went off to 
various beds.

"No. Please," a soprano cried in darkness. The voice 
was young and frightened. "Please, please, please." 
There was a sharp smack of hard hand hitting soft 
flesh, and she whimpered.

"Get in there," said an impatient voice, "strip it 
off; get on yer back, knees up."

"Please," she cried, "I'm hurt, bleeding."

"Aw right," the male voice said, "I'll let y'do it. 
Here."

"I can't," she cried. "I'm too sore. It's too big."

I crept nearer to the cabin at the end of the stable. 
A flickering light showed under the closed doorway. 
Another slap echoed in the night and then another.

"Y'do it or I will, up t'yer throat. Spread 'em, 
y'stupid frisker," the man said sternly. "Poke it in 
there."

"I can't," she moaned as I eased open the door, my 
bayonet in my hand. The hinge creaked and the big man 
turned, balling his hands into fists.

"Don't," I said, poking his belly with the point of my 
knife. He relaxed a bit. "I want this girl," I told 
him. "You want to die or sell her to me?"

"Twenty pounds, hard money," he said with an evil 
smile as he backed away, eyes on my gleaming blade. 
The naked girl lay with her knees raised and a broom 
or hoe handle in her small hand. The oil lantern 
showed her bruised thighs, scratched breasts, and the 
small patch of dark hair where her legs met. She 
looked very young and very frightened.

"You told me ten," I said poking him again. I do not 
know why I did not kill him then and there, why I 
hesitated. Curiosity I suppose or perhaps the size of 
him. It would probably have been very noisy.

"Fifteen," he wheedled. "A bit of profit. That's 
fair."

"You got her paper?" I asked.

He nodded. "Five years indent. 'S only three quid a 
year. She's wirf that."

"Give you ten guineas," I said.

"Silver?" he asked.

The girl sat up, found her dress and held it to her 
body. She was shaking like a child with the ague.

"Mostly," I said. "Go fetch it. Leave the light here."

He left, looking sheepish, and I turned my back to the 
girl on the cot and watched him. "Put on your dress," 
I said. "You got any shoes?"

"No," she whispered. "No. What's going to happen?"

"Not sure," I said, turning back in time to see her 
smooth down the shapeless garment and be excited again 
by the svelte young body under it. For some reason she 
was more stimulating with clothes on than she was 
naked. "I'm going to stand behind the door. You just 
sit there." We waited. She sat with her hands in her 
lap, looking scared and childlike. The two-foot long 
broom handle lay at her feet and she absentmindedly 
played with it with her toes, rolling it back and 
forth.

The inn-keeper kicked the door open and jumped into 
the small room with a cocked pistol in his hand. I hit 
him in the face with the hilt of my big knife in my 
fist and twisted the gun from his fingers. He grunted. 
I handed it to the girl after I uncocked it. "Where's 
the paper?" I asked the panting man who was wiping 
blood from his mouth and probing out a broken tooth. 
He produced it along with the stub of a pencil and 
signed twice against the plank door, complaining and 
spitting all the while. I levered money out of my 
purse and dropped it in his outstretched hand.

"How 'bout my pistol?" he asked. "Need that."

I held out my hand and the girl gave me the gun. I 
flipped it around so the barrel was in my palm and hit 
the big man in the side of the skull with its heavy 
butt. I hit him hard, and it made a good, solid crack. 
He dropped to his knees and I hit him again, right in 
the ear. He fell to his face. I picked up the coins I 
could easily see, took the girl by the hand and ran to 
the woods and my patient horse.

I gave the girl a leg up, mounted behind her and got 
the horse walking out to the road. She leaned forward, 
hands on the pommel and got her rump planted in my 
groin, and I soon was very aroused by the feel of her 
between my legs, my arms under her jouncing breasts 
and her sensuous warmth. There was nothing I could do 
about it, so I enjoyed it and hoped she would not 
notice.

When the moon emerged from the clouds, we made better 
time, both of us sleeping in the saddle from time to 
time to the stolid clip-clop, my free arm about her 
slim middle. Early in the morning, I found a stage 
station, helped her down, saw to the unhappy horse, 
and led her inside.

We sat at a table where no one could see her bare 
feet. We ate and drank with only a few words. I got a 
pipe, rested my back on the wall, and said, "Tell me, 
plain and simple."

She shook her head.

"You want to sleep here?"

She nodded a yes. I got us a small room and took her 
upstairs. We sat beside each other on the sway-backed 
bed.

"You going to swive me?" she asked quietly.

"No," I told her, "I don't generally do that to 
children."

"I'm not a child," she said, sitting up very straight, 
hands gripping her thighs. She was right. Her coffee-
cup sized breasts were certainly not childlike.

"What happened?"

"They jumped me at the creek, three of them. Young, 
not much older than I am, don't think they were 
soldiers but they might have been. Militia I suppose. 
Tore my shirt and knocked me off my horse."

"And?" I asked when she feel silent.

"Then they raped me, one right after the other. I lost 
count, maybe ten times by the next morning. I was a 
virgin." She sniffed. "Was. They didn't care. Gagged 
me and poked me every which way. It hurt and I yelled 
when I could. They buggered me, too. That really 
hurt."

I took a deep breath and waited.

She was quiet again. "They made me do things, nasty 
things."

"I'm sorry," I said, patting her back. She squirmed.

"Then they took me to that place, the place where you 
found me. And they all poked me again. Up in a room 
like this." She shuddered. "Rogered me for hours it 
seemed."

I waited, patiently for me. She took a ragged breath.

"Then they sold me. Tired of me I guess. I don't know 
what they got. He made them sign a paper."

"And then?" I asked.

"That big man raped me, made me get on him. His 
thing's only the size of your thumb. Then he got some 
of his friends to do me, too. I just lay there and let 
them, trying not to think about it. They laughed and 
drank while they did it, smelled awful. Bit me too. He 
said I wasn't worth screwing. Said I had to do more, 
act like I enjoyed it, you know. He beat me, jabbed 
that stick in me. You saw." She turned toward me, let 
me hold her and cried. She sobbed for some time then 
snorted, wiped her eyes, rubbed her nose on my 
shoulder and said, "Thank you."

I stood, said, "Sleep," and left the room after 
showing her how to bar the door. I went out to the big 
shed, found some clean straw and slept until the sun 
got in my eyes.

When I knocked on the girl's door, she said, "Come," 
and slid back the bolt. "I knew it was you," she said, 
"saw you from the window. You've got straw in your 
hair."

"Looks like rain," I told her. "let's get going. 
Camp's about ten or twelve miles I think."

She followed me down and watched me buy a cold meat 
pie and then we mounted with the young woman behind me 
and headed back toward the army. I enjoyed feeling her 
holding on to me. She ate most of the pasty. The rain 
began an hour or so later; first a patter, then a 
torrent. I ducked us quickly under some trees with 
Gloria's arms wrapped around my thick middle.

"Damn," I said, getting down and crouching by the 
trunk of a large tree, the girl beneath my arm. "Hope 
you can swim."

She giggled, the best sound I had heard from her. The 
first cloud burst passed by, but the sky stayed 
leaden, and as we got back on the slick road, I hoped 
to find a tavern or mill or something with a roof. 
What we found, as it began to rain hard again, the 
wind whipping from the west, was an abandoned forge, 
its thick chimney raided for building stone but a 
decent roof still standing. I got the girl down and 
the horse under cover as best I could and then sat 
with my back to the smithy's raised fireplace, feeling 
morose.

"Cheer up," the girl said brightly, sitting with her 
knees up and her chin resting on them, hands about her 
legs. "This will pass."

"Might rain all night," I said, squinting at the dark 
and roiling sky.

"You know who I am, who my father is?" she said, about 
half question.

I nodded. "I've seen you. Hard to miss you. Your hair 
will grow back."

"Those boys, the ones that grabbed me, they sold it to 
an old woman, a wig maker back there."

I just shook my head. 

"She helped them cut it off, grabbed what she wanted 
and they sawed." She smiled at me.

"You feeling better?" I asked, fumbling for my broken 
pipe.

"Some," she said. "Some. Was hard to get to sleep last 
night. I kept seeing them leering at me."

"Pretty girl ought to be used to that," I said.

"Not the way they looked, like wild animals, fangs and 
all."

"I'm sorry."

She said, "I know. Not your fault."

The wind shifted and blew spray over us both. I 
fetched my blanket roll, shook it out and we wrapped 
up in it, hiding away from the shifting, quartering 
wind.

She held me and put her head on my chest. My hand 
rested on her rounded hip. Soon she was asleep, mouth 
flopped open, softly snoring, and my arm was going 
numb.

*

I heard the horsemen long before I saw them and 
jostled the girl awake. "Somebody's coming," I told 
her quietly as she stretched and yawned.

"Maybe they'll pass on by," she said as the first 
horseman appeared, a British dragoon wearing a pointed 
hat, soaked and miserable looking. He yanked his reins 
and raised his hand, trotting under our broken roof 
and looking down at us from his mounted position. I 
struggled to my feet, telling the girl to stay down, 
hoping she looked like a boy with the blanket about 
her.

"And you, sir," the young officer asked, wiping 
rainwater from his chin, "just who are you?"

I told him my name and said, "My brother and me, we're 
just headed home."

"Indeed," he said.

"He's been sick," I said, pointing at the huddled 
girl, peeking from my blanket.

"That so," he said, dismounting gracefully while his 
men sat out in the drenching rain, collars turned up, 
muskets reversed. "Let's have a look at him. Get up, 
boy," he commanded, and Gloria stood with the blanket 
still tight about her.

The officer turned his back to me, tore the blanket 
from the girl's hand, said, "My. my," and then yelled, 
"Sar'n't Peters."

"Run, girl!" I yelled as I kicked the subaltern's feet 
from under him and then sprinted for the trees, 
leaving everything else behind. The girl grabbed my 
thick belt and leapt and jumped to keep up. When a 
shot came I fell to the ground and she was right 
beside me. I got to my knees, peered through the rain 
and saw nothing and heard nothing except the splash of 
water and the flick of leaves.

We circled back an hour or so later and found the 
forge empty, both my blanket and the horse were gone 
along with what little food we had. I forced my tired 
mind to make decisions. "We'd better stay here," I 
told her, "at least we have a roof."

"Thought I saw a light when we were back in the 
woods," the girl said, her wet hair hiding her eyes. 
She pointed. "Might be a house."

I forced my head to make another choice. "Let's go 
look," I said.

I followed her across a fast-rising creek, and we did 
find a cabin with a light showing at its only window. 
I knocked.

"Who's out there," a loud voice asked.

"Two wet people," I said. "Looking for shelter."

"Lean-to out back," the voice said.

"Thanks," I yelled as the wind rose. The lean-to 
sheltered a couple of cords of wood, a few empty 
baskets and some tools that helped me decide this was 
a wood-cutter's place. 

"I'm hungry," the girl said as we huddled in the lee 
of a pile of split firewood. 

"Gnaw some wood," I said, "Some critters like it."

"Hm," she said. "Rather chew on you."

I left her in a dry place and walked around to the 
front of the house, thinking that maybe the rain was 
letting up. I knocked again, waited and then hammered 
the door again. It opened a crack to show the barrel 
of a gun. "What 'chu want?" the unseen man said.

"Bit of food, maybe some bread, something." I begged, 
trying to sound as meek as I could but growing more 
angry each time a cold rivulet ran down my back.	

"Wait," said the voice, and then, "Here." He handed me 
two hard, square biscuits, the kind they have on 
ships, and a piece of dried meat, hard as leather. The 
door closed and the bolt slid home.

I trudged back to the girl, bent over our meager 
supplies. The damp probably helped with the biscuits, 
but they were iron-hard and once you got a bit broken 
off, you had to let it soak in your mouth before you 
could chew and swallow. I used a hatchet to chop the 
meat into small pieces and the same technique got them 
chewable after a while. Their only taste was salty.

The girl scrunched herself down under my arm, making 
her body into a ball, all tucked in. And then we 
slept, awakened regularly by wind shifts and whipping 
branches on nearby trees. It was not a very restful 
night. But it did stop raining and the sun did rise.

*

I awoke to see a man's boots and leggings. I looked up 
into a bearded face. "Hope you plan to be on your 
way," was his greeting.

"Soon as we can," I said, struggling to my feet while 
the girl moaned.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked.

"Not much, just cold and wet," I said, trying the size 
him up. He was leaning on a two-bladed ax and chewing 
tobacco. He spat on the wood pile.

"Ain't had me a woman for some time. Give y'a ham hock 
for a spell wif her. Won' take me long." He squinted 
at me.

"She isn't for sale or rent," I told him.

"Y'owe's me something'," he said, hefting his wide ax 
to his shoulder.

"For what?" I asked as the girl stood and hid herself 
behind me, her hand on my back. I could feel her 
tremble.

"Food and shelter," he said. "I jus' wan' to poke her, 
jus' once."

"No," I said firmly. "We'll be going."

"You c'n go," he said, shifting his grip nearer the 
head of his big ax. "I'm gonna swive her, yessir." He 
raised his heavy weapon beside his shoulder, ready to 
strike, and I pulled my bayonet, grabbed his forearm 
and tore him open, from navel to neck, spraying blood 
over my knees and his wood. The ax fell with a clatter 
and he sank into a bloody pile at my feet, arms 
outstretched.

"Come on, girl," I said, happy she had been behind me 
and could not have seen much. I helped her step over 
the body and we ransacked the cabin, ate what little 
we could find, took a blanket and all the biscuits 
left in a big tin. We were about to leave when I 
looked at the girl's bare feet. I went back and yanked 
the boots off the body in the lean-to and brought them 
to her. They were too big despite the fact that she 
had pretty good-sized feet for a woman, but with a 
pair of the dead man's old stockings stuffed in the 
toes, they were better than nothing.

By mid-morning we were back on the road through the 
forest, stepping around deep puddles and moving right 
along when we heard the clatter of horses coming up 
behind us. I took her arm and hurried her toward the 
deep woods. We did not make it. Suddenly the redcoated 
horsemen were beside us and then their officer was in 
front of us, his sword in his hand. It was the same 
man, and he had a nasty-looking abrasion on his 
forehead. He was not happy.

"We meet again," he said, stepping down into the knee-
high grass, "you, and your little brother is it?"

"Leave her alone," I said, trying to curb my temper 
with such odds against us.

"Of course, of course," he said with a smile, "we know 
these colonial girls; by the time ten or twelve of my 
men has boarded her, both fore and aft, she'll likely 
ask for more money." He put the point of his straight 
blade between Gloria's high breasts and lifted her 
shapeless dress up to her nose.

"She barely a woman, not even fifteen," I told him as 
two of his men bent my arms behind me and lashed my 
wrists together with leather thongs.

"Even better," he laughed. "Hardly broken in, eh? 
There isn't a virgin in this godforsaken land over the 
age of ten."

They bound the girl's hands before her, towed us back 
to the road, put a rope about my neck, tied us to two 
horses and made us trot behind them. The girl must 
have fallen a half-dozen times before we stopped where 
a meadow reached the rutted road. Both of us were mud-
spattered by then.

"G'lord," the officer said when we were brought before 
him, "mud daubers." He grabbed Gloria by the hair and 
forced her down to her knees while his men, a dozen or 
so, stood about checking their saddles and trying to 
look like they were not watching. The officer undid 
his codpiece and produced a shriveled and odd-colored 
member with a small, purple head. "Well, get to it," 
he said, forcing the girl's face into his crotch.

"No," she screamed, butting him hard and then swinging 
her bound hands up between his legs and smashing his 
stones. He squealed and bent over; then he cuffed her 
and cried, "Sar'n't!"

I charged into him and knocked him on his back. "Run, 
girl," I yelled, spinning to meet the sergeant's 
attack. I dodged his first swing and kicked him in the 
knee and then in the cods. I sprinted behind the girl, 
heading for the treeline and expecting a shot in the 
back. It is hard to run well with your hands tied 
behind you, but we made it safely into the woods with 
the dragoons pausing to help their officer and non-com 
get righted.

The girl untied my wrists and then I undid hers, and 
we ran again with me leading the way, brushing limbs 
aside and looking for a hiding place. When I came to a 
large, tangled deadfall on the side of a shallow 
ravine, I found an opening, held it aside and the girl 
scrambled into the dark. I was right behind her, 
pulling branches and nettles over our entrance. We 
were breathing hard, which sounded very loud, but we 
heard them coming, hallooing each other and crashing 
about and gulped down our breath.

Two men walked right past our hiding place, poking 
into the tangled brush with muskets. After a while, 
things quieted down, and Gloria put her lips to my ear 
and whispered, "Maybe they're gone."

I nodded and faced her, finger on my lips. When I took 
my hand down, she kissed me, full on the mouth, her 
hands on my shoulders. I held her close and we were 
comfortable and quiet for a while longer. The sun was 
still high when I crept out and surveyed the woods. I 
could see no red coats nor any white britches so I 
beckoned her out, took her hand, and we made our way 
back toward the country road. On the edge of the 
meadow, we stopped. The British had made camp.

I held out my arm and started backing up when I heard 
a screech behind me and turned to see Gloria in the 
grip of a large dragoon. The sergeant I had knocked 
down holding a pistol on me.

"Thought the smell a'food might bring y'out," he said 
with a smile. I charged at him after noting that his 
weapon was not cocked, and he side-stepped and clubbed 
me down. Then he kicked me a time or two, got me to my 
feet feeling like I was going to vomit, and marched me 
and the girl back into the dragoon's camp.

He forced both of us to our knees beside his grinning 
lieutenant and dropped my belt and bayonet there as 
well. The man licked his fingers, grabbed the girl by 
the hair and smacked her with his open hand, back and 
forth several times. She yelled in pain, and her mouth 
was bleeding when he stopped.

"Here, sar'n't, you can have her first," he said. 
"Share her with the men."

The big sergeant showed his teeth, grabbed the back of 
Gloria's dress and yanked her to her feet. I lunged, 
grabbed my bayonet loose, clamped my arm about the 
officer's throat and said, "Stop!" quite loudly. The 
man squirmed in my grip, kicking his feet, and I 
pinked his neck, just enough to draw blood and cause 
pain. He quieted.

"Tell him to turn her loose," I demanded as the non-
com pawed the girl roughly.

"You heard 'im, sar'n't. Let her go, if you please," 
the officer said, keeping very still, but his voice 
shaking. The girl came and stood beside me, pulling 
her dress down.

"We are leaving," I said to the glowering sergeant, 
noting that several men were now standing and watching 
this drama, "the three of us. If you want me to cut 
this prig's throat, follow us or reach for a gun." He 
nodded and made a wry mouth. I told the girl to pick 
up my belt and we walked away, out to the road, with 
me and the officer going backwards most of the way and 
the girl leading. "Quick march," I said when we 
reached the road. I bent the man's arm behind his back 
and hurried him along. I handed the girl my big knife 
and she sheathed it, puffing along beside me.

We hurried down the road, looking back from time to 
time but not hearing any horses. A mile or two later, 
I pulled the man behind a tree. "What's your name?" I 
demanded, my hand on his neck.

"Lawning," he said, "Robert Lawning, Queen's 
Dragoons."

"Your word good is it?" I asked, clamping a bit harder 
on his throat.

He nodded, his tongue protruding and keeping him from 
speech.

I put out my hand and the girl put the handle of my 
bayonet in it. "Shall I slit your tongue?" I asked, 
easing my grip. "Just to make sure."

"Please," he said.

"Tell the girl you are sorry," I said quietly.

He nodded and got out the words, his eyes watering, 
then he wet himself. The smell was nearly 
overpowering.

"You can head back for your troop if you promise no 
more pursuit of us, all right?" I asked, the tip of my 
blade resting on his cheek. "You should not nod less 
you lose an eye."

He did not nod but managed to squeak out a yes.

"Very well," I said, handing Gloria my bayonet. "As 
long as I have your word that you will leave us 
alone."

"You have it," he said.

"One more thing," I said, brushing his fancy uniform 
with my fingers, straightening his single epaulet and 
holding his eyes. "Why don't you go home. You cannot 
win. We will never quit."

"I know," he said, and turned on his heel and walked 
away.

The girl and I soon found a stream and stopped to rest 
and drink. "Will he keep his word?" she asked.

I nodded. "I think so. I wanted to ask you about that 
kiss, back there."

"What kiss?" she said, rolling over on her stomach and 
looking down at me as I lay on my back.

"You know very well," I said. And she lowered her face 
to mine and kissed me again, very softly and sweetly 
with her eyes closed, chewing my lips.

"Like that?" she said when she pulled her mouth away.

"Very similar," I said. "Try another."

She did, open mouthed.

"Yes," I said. "Just like that."

"Oh," she laughed, "that was a mistake. I don't kiss 
boys."

"I'm not a boy," I said. "Just as you are not a 
child."

"Um," she said, bending to take my mouth again and let 
the tip of her tongue slide between our lips.

I wrapped my arms about her and turned it into a very 
serious kiss, a hungry and lustful kiss with my big 
hand gripping her firm butt.

She pulled away and lay on her back, looking up at the 
sky, hands clamped at her waist. "I don't understand 
men," she said quietly.

"That makes us even," I said and she hit me, knuckles 
into my belly.

"You know what I mean. They all want the same thing. 
They grunt and heave and poke and poke. When I could 
see their faces, they all looked the same, straining 
and panting."

"What did you expect?" I asked. 

She gave me her hand and I held it in my big paw.

"Something more," she said. "Love I suppose, some 
decent emotion, tenderness, something. They might as 
well have been poking a goat."

I nodded.

"Say something," she said, squeezing my fingers.

"Friction is what they wanted. Rape has nothing to do 
with love, my girl," I said. "It's anger, and power 
and, I don't know; it's more like hitting somebody 
than kissing a woman. I suppose it makes some men feel 
big and strong."

"It hurts," she said. "Nobody will want me now." She 
sniffed.

"You're crazy," I said. "You haven't changed."

"I'm not a virgin," she said, and she sniffed again, 
pulling her hand free.

"Very few women are when they get married, least that 
is what I've heard."

"Five month miracle babies," she said and then she 
laughed.

"Right, and you need not tell, you know. Let's get 
going," I said. "Still a long walk."

"Aren't you going to swive me?" she said quietly, 
hands resting on her belly, looking patient.

"You want me to?"

She nodded, smiling. 

"Maybe later," I said, taking her hand and helping her 
to her feet. She sniffed again, wiped her nose on her 
sleeve and stamped her foot. "You are mean," she said, 
and then she laughed.

We did get back on the road and settled into a hard 
pace that cost her three or four steps for each two of 
mine, and again the rains came in the afternoon, 
darkening the sky and driving sheets of water across 
the land. We ran the last hundred yards or so and got 
under the shed roof of a small inn.

"These boots are awful," the girl said, shaking her 
arms and then her whole body, making droplets fly.

"Not much farther," I said, "five or six miles I 
think."

"Are we still in British controlled land?" she asked, 
gasping after our run.

"Probably," I said. "Hard to tell."

She gestured to a line of horses. "Look," she said.

"Can't be the same bunch," I said. "They never passed 
us."

I tip-toed to the back door of the moss-roofed inn. 
The place was filled with red coats, and I did not 
take the time to figure out if it was the same patrol 
we had met before. I hurried back to the girl.

"We could steal a couple of horses," I suggested as 
she huddled away from the blowing rain, arm raised.

"No," she said, "not in this weather."

I found a worn blanket and a rude ladder and followed 
her up to the hay-filled loft, pulling the ladder up 
behind us. I made us a bed as far away from the edge 
of the loft as I could and then pulled off my sodden 
boots.

The girl put her hand on my back. "I'm hungry," she 
said.

"Later," I told her, turning about and gathering her 
in. "First things first."

We enjoyed exploring each other with our hands and 
legs, pulling off each other's clothes, and when I 
entered her I found a warm, tight, welcoming passage, 
trembling and spasming as I slid deeper and deeper. 
She groaned, arched, and sighed, "Oh, oh, oh," again 
and again. "This is different," she whispered to my 
mouth as she raised her hips and wrapped her legs 
about my middle. We started very slowly and proceeded 
to longer and faster penetrations of her young quim. 
When she came, lashing about under me, her frenzied 
cry was of relief and pleasure. I slowed, held back, 
and then brought her again to a shuddering climax soon 
after I pumped my passion out into her luscious little 
cunny. Our sweaty bodies clung to each other.

We lay quietly together, pulling straws from each 
other's hair and face, kissing and whispering 
nonsense. "Suppose," she said after a bit, wriggling 
closer with my thigh between hers, "suppose, I had not 
been raped, would you have done me anyhow?"

"If you wanted," I told her, strangely unsure with her 
small body in my arms, her mouth on my throat. 

"But you surely wanted," she said, feeling my stubbled 
face with one hand and my rising root with the other.

"I always want," I told her with a small laugh.

"Honestly?" she asked, leaning back to see my eyes.

"Honestly," I said, pulling her astride my body. 
"Mount up and we'll canter a bit."

She sat on my belly with my root rigid behind her and 
put her fingers to her lips. There were voices beneath 
us, angry men exchanging oaths. She raised up some, 
inched back on her knees until my prod's head found 
the lips it was seeking; it probed, it entered, it 
sank into paradise. Then she eased herself down atop 
me until her face was on my chest, and we let our 
bodies enjoy themselves while we waited for the 
British squad to mount up and ride off into the rain. 
By then her body was heaving and mine was bent up like 
a bow. We held our breath, climaxed and collapsed as 
quietly as we could. 

After a period of relative quiet, I put the ladder 
down and we went into the inn and had a good meal. 
Then I took her to bed, we rogered to exhaustion and 
slept. In the morning I crept off to the outhouse 
before she could see my terrible erection. When I 
returned, she stretched, yawned and asked, "Where have 
you been?"

I told her and she smiled. "I expected more this 
morning," she said quietly.

"You'd had enough," I said, throwing her, her dress.

"You said that you always," she began, throwing back 
the covers and showing me her body, wiggling with 
anticipation, wet with need.

*

After the first time that morning, which nearly 
brought down the bed as we lunged and rammed our 
bodies together, we rested, hoping for more. "When we 
get back," she whispered, crawling over me, "What will 
I tell my father?"

"As little as you can," I advised, sucking on a taut 
nipple.

"I'm going to tell about you," she said, paying me 
back with her own nibbles.

"What can you say?" I asked, spreading her thighs and 
lifting her legs.

She gasped and shook. "That you were a perfect 
gentleman," she groaned out between clenched teeth as 
I sank into her again.

Then we got much too busy to talk.

We had some good hoecakes later that morning and got 
back on shank's mare. By the time the sun as high, we 
were in camp, welcomed with cheers. Her father pumped 
my hand, and I told him that she had been mistreated 
but was a very brave girl. He said he would send her 
home, and within a few days he did. 

END

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any
of the scenarios in this story should seriously 
consider seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 77