Chapter 14: Persuading Gloria

"There is," said the old Madam, looking exceedingly cross, "a woman who is doing us harm, at least she is trying to do so, the foolish harridan. I want you to go see her and convince her of the wickedness of her ways."

"Me?" I said. "Why not send a preacher?"

"No," the Madam said with an evil smile, "you have the equipment for this task. This woman is using her body in the service of our enemies and crowing about how much more manly the Germans and English officers are compared to the scrawny Continentals."

"Then send an officer," I suggested.

She hit me with her fan. "You rest a day or two, keep away from my nieces and eat well. Then go into the city and show her what a rebel can do in bed. I want you not only to shut her up but to make her useful to the cause. Other women listen to her."

"Bit much to ask of so tender a little soldier," I said, scratching at my groin.

"Go on," the lady said with a small laugh. "Go on." She fanned herself and shuffled away.

I gleaned a bit more information about the young courtesan they were calling the golden girl. She evidently only entertained high ranking officers, both royal navy as well as Hessian and Redcoat, and spread their praises widely, predicting the immediate destruction of Washington and his forces by these mighty men of impressive prowess. Such obvious and blatant hogwash, but it had evidently convinced many in the city, especially young females, that they could safely support the despicable Tory cause and yield to the enemy's fervent entries for sexual favors.

She was said not only to be a first class beauty but a salacious and tireless bed partner who demanded much of her consorts, a man eater some called her, a ball buster, a cock knotter.

So I rested up, ate and drank with relish, practiced unusual abstinence, even early in the morning, and, washed and combed by various nieces, ventured into the city that Saturday, bent on fleshy conquest, looking forward to the test. I felt a bit of a fool and wished I had persuaded the decision makers to send slender Michael or Captain Foster, both of whom could feign good manners when called on and both of who were first class cocksmen as well.

Having declined several invitations to pleasure that week, I found myself faintly tumescent by the time I reached the address I had been given, eager to prove my mettle as well as relieve some pressure. I discovered a place to conceal my horse, gave her some food, and watched the house for a while as the shadows lengthened. A carriage arrived, a cloaked woman with long legs and glittering jewels was escorted down the steps, and the carriage departed.

When the house was dark and quiet, I went in the back door, up the servants' stairway and found the lady's bedchamber. It smelled of her. I pulled off my boots and lay down atop her silken bedspread, looking up at the lacy material stretched atop the four-poster as a canopy. I slept, my hand cupping my groin, dreaming of cornfields as I recall.

A door slammed, and I was instantly awake, my bayonet in my hand and my brain asking where in the world I was. I put my bare feet on the carpeted floor and my nose told my brain that it smelled powder and perfume. My cock trembled.

"Damn, damn, damn," cried a girlish voice as the young woman mounted her stairs and came to her door. I stood back in a dark corner, away from the windows. She came into her big room and slammed the door behind her, snorted, said "damn" again and threw something into a chair, a purse I guessed. She turned up the small whale-oil lamp on her desk and raised her voice to cry, "Martha!"

I stepped up behind her, put my hand over her mouth and my other paw at her trim waist and soft belly, fingers probing deeply. I whispered, "Tell her you don't need her. I'll undress you." I kissed her ear.

"Mf," she said, trying to bite my fingers. I pinched her nose closed as she squirmed in my grip. I firmly held a full breast and squeezed a bit harder than I intended. If I had frightened her at all, it did not last long. I slid my hand down her body and massaged her belly and groin. She wriggled but did not pull free.

"Tell her to go away," I said very firmly. Then I freed her mouth.

She turned and looked up at me. Still staring at me, raised her voice and loudly said. "It's all right, Martha. Go back to bed. I can do it."

We stood facing each other with my hands on her hips, hearing foot steps retreating then mounting the stairs to the attic. Her soft belly and hard nipples touched me, and she made a curious face.

I bent and kissed her, long and deeply, pulling her to me and enjoying the feel of her strong body, stroking her back, tangling her hair. She let me do it but never joined in the lingering kiss. When I pulled away from her face, she slapped me, hard, right across the mouth, like a gun shot, a good right hand.

I kissed her again, a bit more brutally, pushing my tongue into her mouth. She made some noises in her throat but again resisted and when our lips parted, she hit me again, but I was able to lean back and turn aside from the blow. So I kissed her again, kneading her muscular buttocks and gnawing at her lips while my other hand began popping open the small buttons on the back of her fancy dress.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked when I freed her mouth.

"A soldier, come to put the lie to your colorful stories, tall tales I've heard in the taverns."

"Hah," she said as she wriggled out of her lace-trimmed bodice. "You are vain as well as sneaky, rebel." I do not believe I had frightened her for more than an instant.

I began on her stay strings, untying the bow and pulling them loose. She slapped my hands away. "I can do it, thank you. Go sit over there." She nodded toward an upholstered chair. I sat, well stimulated and steadily hardening. I crossed my legs and enjoyed the show.

She undressed quickly and without pretense, stripping herself to her skin with her back to me, painted a pale yellow by the lamp. I admired her shape and smoothness, her long legs, rounded ass, deep spine and good shoulders in the faint lamplight. Her cunny hid in her buttocks' shadow. She shrugged a long, thin nightdress over her head and eased it down her body. Then she turned to face me, hands on hips, breasts jutting out, feet well apart and chin pugnacious.

My tumescence, fueled by rest, turned to full arousal. She was a fine looking young woman and when she pulled her combs and shook out her long, dark hair, she moved her lush body within her gown in such a manner as to stimulate me further. I was ready to devour her. Her confidence was well deserved.

"Well," she said, "you have had your look. Now what?"

I stood, bowed, introduced myself, said I was from Maryland, and suggested that she had been telling lies about Continental soldiers and officers.

"Hardly," she said. "Every one I've met, well, I've never met one that is a match for the King's men or his brave allies. You are losers, weaklings, all of you, not fit to polish their boots."

I took a step toward her. She did not retreat. "You must have met tired men, captives perhaps. We have a few lickspittles. And I've seen the Germans rape women and the British dally with boys, but I've not met one I would call a real man, not one."

"Fah," she said, licking her lips as I came nearer. There was no fear in her face but perhaps some doubt in her eyes.

"What made you curse when you came home this evening?" I asked, putting one hand gently back on her hip and the other on her chin, raising her mouth toward mine.

"None of your brutish business, you rude man," she said, freeing her head and giving me a tiny smile.

"Did one of the cowardly, overdressed macaronis disappoint you?"

She took a deep breath and laid her head on my chest. I pulled her to me and caressed her gently, tousling her hair. I counted a small victory.

"He wanted me to," she began and then she stretched up and kissed my neck and then my mouth while I held her butt and lifted her a bit to continue the kiss. Her tongue tip brushed my lips. "He was drunk, passed out on the way home," she said coldly. "And he was so pretty."

"I am not here to rape you," I whispered to her mouth.

"Pity," she said with a small laugh, a giggle. She squirmed free, tossed back the covering on her bed, turned down the quilts and climbed in. She lay flat, hands linked below her high breasts, watching me from the corner of her eyes.

"What's your name?" I asked as I got out of my britches.

"Gloria," she said. "I'm from the lower counties. My whole family is loyal, every single one."

"Delaware?" I asked as I pulled my shirt over my head.

"If you wish," she said. "But it is the Duke of York's land."

"No longer," I said as I climbed in beside her, my mast well stepped.

"Fool," she said opening her arms and spreading her legs, digging in her heels and turning out her knees.

"Why do you do it?" I asked as I mounted her, and with her thumb and forefinger she guided my blood-hot ram to her dripping slit in its curly bed.

"Ugh," she grunted as I shoved, "because I enjoy men. I enjoy rogering men, and the best men I have found are the King's men. They, my god!" She tensed, arched, shook and then collapsed and went limp, arms flopping. I must have struck some sort of nerve for I was barely into her, surely not more than three inches or so, pressing hard, arched up, and her tight quim was greeting the thick, rounded, rigid intruder with pleasuring shivers and rolling spasms.

I pulled it out and lay on my back beside her, my ram well up on my belly, jumping impatiently, already wet. Her breathing was slow and regular. She moaned, sighed, licked her lips and turned toward me.

"What happened?" she mumbled, her hand on my chest, raking through the fur, a hard tit ribbing my arm, a knee on my thigh.

"I think you fainted."

"Oh," she said quietly, wrinkling her forehead. "I remember doing that once before, when I was quite young, but the gentleman I was with went on and satisfied himself so when I awoke, I was alone and wondered for some time what had happened. Unfortunately, the evidence was soon between my legs once I stood."

"Gentlemen, eh?" I said.

She chuckled deep in her throat and turned toward me. Her hand sought and found my thick, hard prod. She stroked it and ran her thumb about its head. "This is what I want," she said, kissing my nipple.

I gave it to her, slowly, gently and repeatedly; then harder and harder and deeper and deeper until we had the whole bed bouncing and the canopy swaying from side to side. She came, arching and spasming, at least twice, crying out with pleasure both times, and I finally fired a cannonade of hot jism into her depths and then, after a few dozen more strokes, subsided and withdrew. We were both panting.

"Um," she said, cuddling close to me, her leg atop mine, arm across my body, head on my shoulder, "um, that was quite impressive. You have a fine weapon there. You could use some instruction in its proper use and a lot more patience, but," she kissed my neck, "that was very fine, quite nice. I appreciated your diligence."

"Nice?" I said, my right hand full of her buttocks and my left filled with a firm breast.

"Um hm," she said, wiggling to get more comfortable. "Are you planning on spending the night?"

"It's your bed," I told her, releasing her firm booby and pulling her atop my body. My well-satisfied member lay down on my shrunken ballocks. I pulled the quilt up over both of us. She was very warm and felt wonderful resting on me.

She pushed her way up, got her knees by my ribs and brought her mouth to mine. After she kissed me, she said, "If you are just intending to sleep, I'd rather you went elsewhere."

"I snore, so I'm told," I said after I returned her kiss. "I don't think you'd want me to sleep here."

"Um," she said, grinding her lush body into mine, raking her hard nipples up and down my chest, crushing her mound against my pubic bone. "So?" Her lips trembled. She smelled of lust.

I felt it rising and kissed her back, letting my hands roam over her wonderful body and pinching out her hard nipples. She undulated, moaned a bit and rubbed her belly against mine. I rolled her over, hoisted her legs up on my arms, got to my knees and rammed it into her with a single thrust. She gasped. I stayed fully extended and smiled down at her as my poker jumped wildly deep inside her, provoking thrilling responses. "I should have asked, Gloria, how do you like to do it?"