As she approached her small cottage, she halted in her steps. There was a white horse tied to her hitching post and she was expecting no one. Well, she had ostensibly just returned from a ladies' sewing circle and her home was along the main path into town. Perhaps it was a wayward traveller looking for directions. Knowing she was lying to herself, she entered the cabin.
The moment she entered, her breath was robbed from her. It was that handsome Redcoat she had seen in town sitting bold as brass at her table, helping himself to a tot of her rum, a saddle bag sitting in front of him. She had encountered him a few times on the street. They'd exchanged pleasantries, of course - she dared not make her Revolutionary sentiments known publicly - but nothing beyond that. Still, she always felt she could feel his eyes lingering upon her when she passed. She didn't know what to think of it: She was no Loyalist, but she couldn't deny that with that silver trimmed tricorn, those leather boots to the knee, that signature crimson coat worn by the King's officers made him cut a rather dashing figure. There had been times she had considered speaking more with him, but she knew it was too dangerous in times such as these. Nevertheless, he was here in her house.
"Who are you?" She demanded once she had caught her breath again.
"I beg your pardon, Miss," he began with an accent she couldn't quite place. It had to be somewhere from the south of Britain; it was too clear to be northern. He stood and tipped his hat to her as he swept towards her. "Captain Hanson of His Majesty's Regiment-"
"What are you doing here?"
He smiled politely. "Where I come from, when a gentleman introduces himself, a lady generally responds in kind."
She looked him up and down. He did look a gentleman, to be sure. Still, he was an officer of the King against whom she was rebelling. But then, what harm could a name cause? "Miss Alexandria Drummond," she replied slowly.
He was directly in front of her now and took one of her pale, slender hands. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Drummond. Alexandria - after the great library in Egypt perhaps?"
Unable to hide her confusion, she merely nodded. He was still holding her hand.
"And Drummond, that's a Scottish name, isn't it?"
Was he making small talk with her? Nonplussed, she replied, "Originally, but I was born American."
His eyes flashed and she knew she had said too much. "Yes, of course. That actually brings me to my point, Miss Drummond, the purpose of dropping in on you unannounced." He finally released her hand, and she found herself missing the touch as he began to walk back to the chair he'd just occupied.
He sat and poured another tot, then offered it to her. Normally she only used it medicinally, but she decided she could use a bit of liquid courage. Wincing, she downed it all in one go. He smiled broadly, gesturing for her to sit in the other chair across from him. Trying to calm herself, she obliged even as he poured another tot for himself. He drank it just as she had done, and she wondered how much he had drank already.
"My dear," he went on, "I shall speak plainly. There have been complaints made against you."
She felt her heart sink. "Complaints, Sir?" She echoed.
"That you have, with certain other ladies in town, engaged in treason against His Majesty your king. That as they engaged in espionage, you passed messages to known Revolutionaries."
"That's a lie," she hurried.
He shrugged, pouring a third tot. "Some of the ladies have already confessed. No doubt you already noted the absence of some of them at your so-called sewing circle." Seeing her grey eyes widen, he smiled. "Yes, my dear. I know that's how you've been obtaining your messages." He drained the rum, then continued, "Now, I am a reasonable man and, dare I say it, a gentleman. I am willing to let this offense pass and handle it with discretion. I ask only that you give me the names of your confederates."
She considered a few things. It was correct that a few of the usual ladies had been absent at their meeting today. It was also correct that she and her associates had been sewing codes into clothing headed for the front lines. She knew that many of her associates obtained their secrets by sleeping with the enemy. Though she had always considered herself above such things, she also couldn't deny this could be a solution to her current dilemma.
Wiping her hands nervously on her skirts, she stood, taking the bottle of rum from him. "I think we've both had enough of spirits, Captain," she uttered as lightly as she could, returning the bottle to its shelf. The one room cabin was so small that this shelf was next to the four poster bed. She could feel his eyes on her as she bustled. Before she could return to her seat, she felt his hand reach out and snatch hers at a speed she wouldn't thought possible. It held her tightly.
"I implore you, my lady," he said quietly, standing, "Think clearly. You know well what is done to traitors." He reached out and caressed her cheek. "I should hate to condemn such a lovely face as yours to Gallows Hill."
She swallowed hard. Now was the time to decide her convictions. "Captain Hanson," she began deliberately, "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I thank you for the compliment, but-"
Before she could finish, he was yanking her in, kissing her gruffly. She could taste the rum on his lips. At first she pushed against his chest, but then she yielded to his skill. She had been kissed before, but never by a man, never such as this. For as much as he looked a gentleman, his kiss was anything but gentlemanly, and she was terrified to realize how much she enjoyed it. She wrapped her arms around him. He began to kiss her neck.
"You must have known your presence has bewitched me," he said between kisses, "Surely it was not coincidence that brought us together."
Delighting in his touch, feeling her pulse rise as he began to kiss the shapely rise of her bosoms above her corset, she noted the saddlebag on the table. Perhaps he kept a pistol in there, and she could be free. And yet, that would mean she would have to stop his mouth on her body...
Catching sight of her eyes, he grabbed her by the hands even tighter than before. He sat abruptly, tugging her so she was face down across his lap, her rump in the air. She had scarcely known how it had happened before she felt him lift her skirts, revealing her bare backside. Before she could even protest, he spanked her. She cried out more from shock than pain.
"Ah, so is this how we treat my generosity, my dear?" He asked, caressing the curve of her ass before striking it again. "More rebellion?" He struck her again, and she was horrified to realize she enjoyed the feeling as he struck her once more. She was sure the sound she made betrayed her arousal because he made a noise of satisfaction. "I see," he crooned, caressing her ass again, "You know you've been a naughty thing, don't you? Well, I know how to treat such naughty girls."
He grabbed her by the throat, forcing her upwards as he stood. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew she could fight back, and yet she didn't. Before she could examine that realization, he was reaching in the saddlebag. He produced a pair of irons, one side of which he clasped around one of her wrists. He tossed her towards the bed, onto which she fell. Unable to regain her senses, he pulled the shackled wrist behind her, then the unshackled one, and clapped both wrists in irons so that she was sitting on the bed, her hands behind her around one of the posters of her bed.
"Mm, now where were we, my dear?" He murmured, leaning in to her face as he shed his cardinal coat onto the floor.
She saw him grin before he sat beside her to remove his boots. The spurs made a clang as they hit the floor, and as she wriggled her wrists she realized she was quite trapped. As this dawned on her, his lips were upon hers again, kissing her roughly, and for reasons she couldn't name, it suddenly occurred to her that she didn't care that she was entirely at his mercy. Not that he had any. The thought thrilled her.
His boots having been dealt with, he leaned back and ran his hands up and down her sides. She panted. Even if she wanted to protest, there was no one around for miles to hear her. Seeing her submission, his smile grew broader.
"Now then, you're being a good girl now, aren't you?" He whispered as he fondled her breasts, then ripped her top. "Now, your English masters know how to reward a good girl."
He reached into the top of her corset and pulled her breasts over top of it. She gasped as he began to kiss her soft breasts, fumbling slightly as his fingers worked at the busks on the front. Finally he released the busks, freeing her breasts completely. He sat back and admired them a moment, cupping them in his hands, then he leaned forward and began to kiss her nipples, to lick them, to bite them ever so slightly. As he continued to minister his attentions to them, she couldn't stop a moan from escaping her lips. She felt her womanhood growing wet, and she began to writhe, her moans growing louder.
"Mm, such a good girl," he purred, leaning against her ear as he continued to pinch her pink nipples. "Now then, be a good girl and tell me your confederates."
As delighted as she was at the sensation, this snapped her to attention. "No," she whispered.
He chuckled and licked her ear, unbuttoning his waistcoat. "No?" He repeated, throwing the waistcoat to the floor, soon followed by his blouse. His chest was broad and manly.
"No," she repeated, but her voice quavered.
Sensing her hesitation, he pulled away. "I have ways to loosen your lips," he said, unbuckling his belt.
Watching in silent wonderment, her eyes widened slightly as he stood and undid his trousers. He dropped them to the floor, allowing his penis to spring free. She couldn't help but stare at his impressive length, simultaneously afraid and eager. Following her eyes, he stroked himself slowly.
"Do you like this, naughty girl?"
Unable to stop herself, she nodded.
