“Have you ever raped a woman, taken one against her will?” the old lady asked with an arched eyebrow.
“No,” I answered quickly, not wanting to think about it very much, my fingers crossed behind me.
“Humph,” the Madam said with a sniff. “Well, I suppose there is a time for everything.” She handed me a slip of paper. “These girls,” she said, pausing, “women really, have been causing a good deal of mischief, and they have been serving our enemies; falling on their backs. You know what I mean.”
I nodded and refused to smile since she was so serious.
“I want you to go rape them, defile and degrade them. The girls tell me you are capable of such a thing.”
“Are they married?”
She shook her head, “Not really, just marriages of convenience, paper weddings.”
“I don’t like it,” I said.
“I understand, but go do it anyway, and don’t be gentle. I want them hurt and frightened. When you have had your way with them, tell them that they must stop consorting with the British, with the Tories, or the next time it will be five men who come and visit and they will not be as kind and gentle as you were.”
“Yes’m,” I said, ate a good meal and rode into town, wishing I was someplace else.
The women were cousins and lived together in a tall, skinny house that a patriot had deserted. I watched for a while, feeling sorry for myself and rather put upon.
A carriage arrived and a woman left the house. Then a tall girl appeared at the back door wearing a wide-brimmed hat and carrying a book. She made her way into the overgrown garden, plunked herself down on a bench, opened her book and adjusted her floppy hat to shade her eyes.
Opportunity had presented itself.
I made sure my mare was happy, crept through the woods and came up behind the young woman who was obviously engrossed in her novel. I clamped one hand over her mouth and the other at her waist, yanked her up and carried her off, legs kicking wildly and arms flailing.
“Beast,” she cried when I sat her down and had a good look at her. She yelled, “Help!” once and I tore a sleeve from her cotton dress and gagged her with it, ruffles protruding from her soft mouth.
“Now, Miss,” I said, “you’re the one keeping company with all these lobsterbacks, ain’ye?”
She looked at me wide-eyed as I held her back against a big tree with my knee, unbuttoned her bodice and began unlacing her light stays.
“You could be serving your countrymen; we’re always in need of camp followers who don’t care who they swive.” I popped her small, round breasts free and let her corset slide down her hips.
“You don’t do those Germans, do you?” I asked, squeezing her throat firmly.
She shook her head and stopped wriggling since she figured out it only caused her pain.
“I’m glad of that,” I said, “I wouldn’t want to put my root where they had been.”
With that she went right for my eyes with both hands. I grabbed her wrists, held her hands above her head, hoisted up her skirt above my clamping knee, freed my straining prod, grabbed it, stroked it and brought it up between her legs after bending my knees and smiling at her.
She was probably trying to cry, “No, no,” when I rammed it up into her, lifted one of her legs above my hip bone and drove my pike as deep as I could. It was dry and painful work, and I am sure it hurt her more than it did me. She swooned.
I eased her limp body down to the leaves and sat beside her, my eager pole still rigid. I removed her gag so she could breathe more easily, and when she roused, I pulled her head down into my lap and rammed my hard member into her soft mouth.
She sputtered and gagged, and I grabbed her hair and lifted her face from my loins.
“Thought all you king lovers were cocksuckers,” I said with a smile.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at me with undisguised hatred.
“Let me go, you fool,” she demanded, gathering some control of herself.
“After I roger you till your eyes cross,” I said, reaching out to tickle her bare breast.
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, pushing my hand away and pulling her bodice together.
“Teach you a lesson you shouldn’t need,” I said. “What you are doing is wrong, associating with your country’s oppressors.”
“I’m English,” she said, “we all are.”
“Nope, ‘ I said, “I’m a Marylander, never been to England.”
She clamped her mouth shut, and I gathered her up in my arms and held her and then kissed her, gently at first. When her lips parted, our kiss got a bit more serious.
She pushed me away, both hands on my chest. “Let me go.”
“When we are done, unless you want a second helping.” Then, I think for the first time, she noticed my erect member which was jutting out of my breeches like a tent peg or something, jumping and bobbling about, its head dark and reddish and its stalk white and blue-veined. “My lord,” she said, drawing away.
I pushed her to her back, spread her legs with my knee, gathered her skirts at her waist, lifted her legs on my forearms and brought my prod to her nether lips, stroking and probing until I sensed some moisture and a bit of puffiness. While she lay trapped before me, writhing and begging, I pushed the head of my manhood into her and slowly drove the whole length deep and tight.
She lifted her hips, just an inch or so, to make my entrance easier.
I gave her a hurried and merciless rogering, hard and fast and pleasure free, nothing but friction. She gasped out air with every thrust, her eyes closed, and when I reached the short rows and then stiffened and came, she closed her eyes and clamped her mouth closed. I pulled it out at once, wiped it on her dress, put it away and sat beside her.
“There now,” I said, patting her thigh, “that wasn’t so awful, was it?”
She rolled to her side and sat up, pulling her knees up and holding them. She put her head down on her knees and wept.
I felt terrible and kept my mouth closed, knowing I could do or say nothing.
When she looked up and wiped her eyes, I asked, “Where has your cousin gone?”
“Shopping,” she said, wiping her nose on her wrist.
“Be back soon?”
She nodded. “Why?”
“I am going to do her, too,” I said.
She just looked at me, as if I was a monster of some kind.
“Well,” I said, “she is as bad as you, isn’t she, consorting with the enemy, entertaining the killers.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t. Please don’t. She’s so young.”
I smiled at her, a nasty smile I am sure.
We walked back to her house with me leading my mare. I kept the girl with me while I saw to the horse and then we went inside.
“Come,” she said, taking my hand and venturing a small smile, “time for that second helping.”
“What is your name?” I asked, holding her at the foot of the stairs.
“Vanessa,” she said, lifting her chin proudly. “My father liked Swift’s story.”
“Well, Vanessa, doing you again will not keep me from horsing Jennifer, but if it what you want, let us to it.”
She pulled free and ran up the stairs just as her cousin came in the back way, her shopping basket filled to capacity. I walked to the pantry, introduced myself as an acquaintance of her cousin, helped her put away a few things and then pushed her back against the wall with my hand about her throat.