The Gunpowder Gals

PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

"Ma'am." It was the Sergeant again, walking towards her. This time he wasn't smiling but stopped in front of her and lifted his hand to his cap in a crisp salute. "Sergeant Wade, Ma'am."

Amanda nodded her head in brief acknowledgement of the NCO's new found civility.

"Glad you could come, Ma'am. The Lieutenant is on board, on the Texas deck, if you'd care to follow me."

Amanda nodded again and followed him onto the landing stage and up the gangplank. A board was set on an easel at the head of the gangplank, a white painted board with red wording on it: "DANGER -- NO SMOKING, NO UNSHIELDED CANDLES." The teacher looked up at the two high cast iron smokestacks towering above the Henrietta and thought that her crew must have had a nervous trip down river.

The Sergeant led her up an outside staircase to the top deck. The sun suddenly appeared for the first time that day and Amanda unexpectedly felt her spirits rising in time to her ascending footsteps. The Sergeant held open the door.

"Lieutenant Lee will see you now, Ma'am. Please go in."

The leather bound couches and chairs scattered throughout the glassed in deck were as luxurious as Amanda remembered from the only other time she had been aboard the Henrietta. The pile carpet was just as thick, the pictures on the walls depicting river scenes just as pleasant, the air still redolent with the lingering aroma of fine cigars, the spittoons just as brightly polished. But now there was no crowd of prosperous business men, no fine ladies, no busy stewards. Just a tall, slender young man with long blonde hair and a fine set of golden mutton-chop whiskers, a young man who gave every appearance of having fallen asleep in the armchair he was now lifting himself out of. Which wouldn't have surprised Amanda because there were lines of strain around his eyes and his uniform was as crumpled and travel strained as those of his men's.

"Beg your pardon, Ma'am, beg your pardon. Must have nodded off unexpectedly."

The officer juggled uncertainly with what had been resting on his lap, a holed gray sock with a wooden darning mushroom inside it, and a needle dangling from the hole on woolen threads. He finally put the sock down on the coffee table between them, next to a belt with a saber scabbard attached and an open holster displaying the well oiled butt of a revolving pistol. Then the Confederate lieutenant made a formal bow to her. Amanda acknowledged with a stiff nod of her head, which brought her attention to the officer's feet. No boots, and one sock on, the left foot bare. She couldn't help smiling at the sight.

"Must apologize, Ma'am. I don't normally receive ladies in this manner."

"The fortunes of war, Lieutenant. Please don't worry about it. May I sit down?"

"Please do, Ma'am, please do."

Amanda settled herself in the chair opposite to his, across the coffee table.

"My name is Amanda, Amanda Shilling. Are you any relation to the famous General Lee?"

"Why no, Ma'am, Miss Shilling. I'm just plain Reuben Lee, a Georgia school teacher and noways related to the general. But I guess I didn't tell the boys that until after they'd elected me as a company officer." He smiled, but seemed strangely nervous about meeting her.

"Please call me Amanda, Reuben. I think we have some important matters to discuss and we should be as friendly towards each other as we can."

Reuben huffed and blew into his whiskers, apparently distressed: "I would surely like to be good friends with you, Miss Shilling, even if you are a red hot Federalist, as Sergeant Wade says you are. But to tell the honest truth, there's no way I can be friends with anybody in this township."

Amanda bent forward, picked up the sock and the darning mushroom and looked with amusement at the typical male botch Reuben had been making of the simple job.

"May I?" She began drawing the needle neatly back and forth across the heel of the sock.

Reuben seemed astonished and then even more upset: "Miss Shilling, please don't do that. It's right civil of you but where I come from we kind of think it's important to return civility with civility and I can't do that -- not here and not now."

"Mmmm." Amanda looked up from the sock. "You're talking about the gunpowder, aren't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am. To tell the truth I was only supposed to take my patrol up river on a reconnaissance mission. But when we saw a side-wheeler flying a gunpowder warning flag and putting into a wharf right under our noses without hardly a Yankee soldier in sight, well, I guess we just had to up and take our chance. So here we are."

"Yes, so here you are. And what happens next?"

"Today and tonight we rest ourselves and our horses, water them, and feed them on the forage we found aboard. We'll fill our saddlebags from the Union Army rations here as well. Then, tomorrow morning, we'll turn your men folk loose and tell them to step lively as quick as ever they can. And thirty minutes later we'll have to set fire to this fine boat."

Amanda nodded in calm understanding. "And when all the gunpowder in the hold explodes half of our houses will get flattened. And all those bales of fodder that are left aboard are going to get blown into the air, most of them on fire I suppose, and then crash down on the roofs of the rest of the town like a shower of burning comets. I doubt there's a house in Stony Creek won't get blown over or burnt to the ground. A fine way to make war, Lieutenant."

"Miss Shilling, if I were to leave the powder intact, it could be used to kill hundreds of Confederate soldiers. My own men would probably shoot me if I were to leave here without getting rid of it. And there's no way they'll care overmuch about what happens to your homes. Talk about the horrors of war to Grant, to Sherman, to the folks in Atlanta, but don't waste your breath talking about them to my boys. They know only too well what your blue belly armies are doing down in Georgia right now."

Amanda nodded, rotated the mushroom in her fingers and began cross weaving the wool across the hole.

"Suppose you were to bore some holes in the bottom of the Henrietta and set her adrift. She'd sink and your job would be done, wouldn't it?"

"Ma'am, if you were to come out onto the bridge with me I could show you a dozen mud banks in sight of this landing stage. Were I to push the boat out into the current it's as likely as not she'd run up onto the mud somewhere and stay there high and dry. Maybe she'd never steam again but the Yankees would soon salvage the powder and all the other supplies on board."

"Set a powder train to explode the powder and then let the Henrietta drift away."

"Ma'am, Miss Shilling, powder trains are not very reliable. The only way I can be sure of doing the job properly is to start a fire myself in the lower cabins, a fire I know can't be put out, and then jump on my horse and gallop away as quickly as I can. That's what I'm going to do. And that's why I asked you to come here. I want you to explain to the women folk hereabouts how things stand and to tell them get what valuables they can out of their houses before dawn tomorrow."

"Without the men to help us, we couldn't move much at all. Not that the collection of oldsters and loafers you've imprisoned here on the Henrietta would amount to much help anyway -- all the real men are away fighting in the war on one side or the other. Besides, what's the use of moving out valuables if we're left with no roofs over our heads?"

"Ma'am, I'm plumb sorry, but a plain warning is the best I can do for you."

"Mmmmm . . ." Amanda lifted up her eyes again, fastening them directly on the officer's. "But suppose you started the fire and then had the Henrietta poled out away from the wharf? There'd at least be a chance she'd drift far enough away so as not to damage the town when she exploded."

"Ma'am! Ma'am!" Reuben pulled on his whiskers with exasperation. "Can't you see how dangerous such a thing would be? I've nineteen men here and it would need every one of them to pole out a boat this size smartly enough to stand a chance of getting it away and down river before the fire reached the powder barrels. I'd be risking my entire patrol just to save some civilians' houses. The boys would think I was mad if I was to suggest such a thing to them."

"Alright, Reuben, let's talk about making a deal then. Bye the bye, have you got a pair of scissors?"

The officer blinked in surprise at her words, then reached out to a small roll of canvas on the coffee table and spread it out. From one of the pockets inside the roll he withdrew a small pair of scissors. Amanda took them from his fingers and neatly clipped off the threads from the sock.

"There. Now, suppose your men were to agree to take the risk of poling out the Henrietta when she was on fire. Would that change matters?"

Lieutenant Lee shook his head in despair at her stubbornness: "Miss Shilling, they plain won't, even if I was willing to let them try."

Amanda stood up, still holding the repaired sock. "Reuben, why don't you stretch yourself out on that couch. Put your feet up on the arm rest and I'll see if that other sock needs darning as well."

Reuben blinked, his blue eyes puzzled: "What?"

"Please lie down on the couch, Lieutenant. I've got some more things to say to you yet. In the meantime, I'll take a look at that other sock. Now don't be shy and just spread yourself out." She walked over and patted the back of the couch. "Come on, Reuben, relax. You've earned it. And whilst you're resting we'll discuss a very ancient legend. Believe me, you'll find it interesting."

Reuben had stood up when she had but was still hesitating: "What legend would that be, Miss Shilling?"

"The legend about the rape of the Sabine Women, Lieutenant Lee, sir."

He was still confused, but certainly interested. At least she had no doubt now that Confederate was a man with a normal man's interest in women. "What?"

"If you want to hear the story you must lie down like a good boy." Amanda's coyness tempted him, his feet moved across the carpet. Then a sudden suspicious thought turned his head towards the coffee table and the belt on it. Amanda smiled as she followed his thoughts.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, I've no intention of playing the Charlotte Corday to your Marat. I'm not going to try to shoot you with your pistol or stab you with your own saber."

Reuben smiled in embarrassment, more so as the school teacher picked up two cushions from a chair and put them down on one end of the couch. She patted them invitingly and smiled again. The Lieutenant found the invitation irresistible. He stretched out on the couch and rested his head on the cushions. Yet his arms remained stiffly by his side as he watched Amanda. She bent over him and tweaked the cushions a little, smiling at him.

"You remember the legend about the Sabine women, Reuben?"

"Yes. The story goes that when Rome was first founded the city didn't have enough women and so they tried to buy some brides from a nearby tribe called the Sabines. But the tribe wouldn't sell them any, so the Romans abducted the women they wanted."

"That's right, Lieutenant, that's right."

She straightened again and walked around the couch until she was at the other end of it, looking down at his face. He trembled in surprise as he felt her fingers stroke the soles of his feet, one bare, the other still with a sock on it. Then his eyes widened further as she knelt down and rubbed his feet harder.

"Oh dear, Reuben, I'm afraid this is another holy sock to match the other one. I'd better take it off as well."

She felt his leg quivering as she ran her fingernails over it, gently removing the literally down at the heel sock. In truth, although the smell of Lee's body was deep in the wool, touching the man's foot was making her catch her breath in excitement. She was astonished to find herself acting so brazenly and even enjoying it.

"Miss Shilling, this ain't right. You shouldn't be doing that and I know I stink like a polecat because I've hardly been out of my saddle for a week 'cept to sleep."

"My name is Amanda, Lieutenant, and that's what you must call me: Amanda."

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his instep, his left one. Then she did the same to the right one.

"Is this what you get your slave girls in Georgia to do for you, Reuben?"

The Southerner gave a bark of laughter: "School teachers can't afford slaves, Amanda. You should know that. Especially not slave girls."

"But if you did have them, would you like them to do this to you?" This time she put out her tongue and flicked it over the bottom of his feet.

"Yes, I guess I would at that, Amanda." His voice was deeper, almost a grunt.

"Do you think the Romans made the Sabine women do this for them after they'd stolen them? Before they got down to the serious business of turning them from virgins into wives?"

The Georgian gasped in astonishment: "By crackey, you sure are the boldest school marm that ever I've met!"

"One of those houses out there is mine, Reuben. Every cent I've got in the world is invested in it. I guess this is a time when I need to be bold."

She ran her tongue along the toes on his right foot as if she was drawing a paint brush along a picket fence. The officer stirred again and lifted his hands to cover the growing bulge in his pants.

"Leave it be, Reuben. I like seeing it standing up so proud. Are you thinking about using it on me as if you were my husband?"

"Lord, Amanda, I'd love to but I've told you the honest truth already. The men wouldn't let me risk their lives to save your house, no matter how much you pleasured me."

Amanda stood up again, smiling: "I know you're telling the truth, Reuben, and I respect you for it. But do you remember the last part of the legend? How the Sabine men came to fight to get their women back but then the women themselves stepped in and said they were living happily in Rome and wanted peace?"

"I remember."

"Good."

Amanda spread out her skirts and knelt down again, by his side. She undid her bonnet ribbons, carefully took off the hat and put it aside. Her right hand settled as gently as a humming bird on the fork of the thick army pants, her palm lying on the obvious sign of his aroused manhood.

"Suppose your soldiers were offered a bargain, Reuben? That they can do whatever they like with all the women in Stony Creek for tonight, if only they'll agree to try to save the village tomorrow morning when you fire this steamer?"

Her fingers closed around his shaft and rubbed it gently. "If they'd agree to a bargain like that, would you agree as well?"

"I -- I don't know."

Amanda's fingers undid the belt around his pants, loosening it and then pulling it apart.

"Think about it, Reuben. For one night you could be another Caeser. Rows of helpless women chained and kneeling in front of you, ready to do whatever you wish them to. Do you think you'll ever get another chance like that in your entire life? Shall I tell you what sort of a play I'm planning on staging for you?"

Amanda plucked open the top button of the uniform pants as she was speaking. If the secret of talking to a mule was to get its attention, there was no doubt that Lieutenant Lee's ears were as pricked as much as any mule's could be. And that sure wasn't the only place he was pricked up.

She turned her head and smiled at him: "If you'll listen to me I'll undo all these buttons for you."

"I'm listening, Amanda!"

"What you should do is search the Henrietta because you'll find plenty of chains and neck irons on her someplace. Nobody is ever going to transport another coffle of slaves down this river but the packet captains won't believe that until Richmond finally surrenders. So you find all the chains and neck irons you can, and you tell your soldiers to leave them down in the main saloon."

She bent to her task again and eased open another button. "Alright, so far, Lieutenant?"

"Fine, just fine."

"Then tell them that each man is to leave his shirt in the saloon as well. And each of them is to write down his name on a piece of paper and leave it in one of his shirt pockets."

She touched another button, pressing down on it against the pressure of the rising flesh beneath to get enough room to wriggle it free. The Reb's manhood was pushing up a fold of his shirt like a tent post. The school teacher put her hand on it and squeezed gently. Reuben's whiskers quivered as if he were feeling the heat of a branding iron being held against his body.

"I guess this must be the horn of plenty I've heard so much about, sir," Amanda giggled. "A true cornucopia."

"Lordy, Amanda, lordy!" The Lieutenant was almost whimpering with pleasure.

"Now, I plan to bring all the ladies down to the boat about seven o'clock. We'll all be carrying food and we'll tell anybody who asks afterwards that we were ordered to cook the victuals and bring them down to the boat for your men. But what we'll really be doing is taking off our clothes in the saloon and making ourselves up into coffles with the chains. Then we'll each put on a soldier's shirt and come up here to the Texas deck, where the men down below in the hold won't hear anything."

Her nimble fingers undid the last button and opened the pants as widely as she could, wriggling the top of his pants down around the Southerner's narrow hips. She giggled again when she discovered there was nothing beneath the pants but the bottom of Reuben's shirt, draping a column which reared up amid the officer's rumpled clothing as if were an inflated balloon.

"Is this what a husband looks like, Lieutenant? Can I see it?"

Reuben groaned and nodded, his glazed eyes fastened on her hands.

"Alright, but let me tell you first what's going to happen tonight. We'll all get down on our hands and knees and kiss the men's feet to show how we're submitting to them and begging for mercy. Then you'll pick a woman at random and get her to read out the name in her pocket. Then she has to take off the shirt and give it back to the man it belongs to."

Amanda lifted up the officer's own shirt, staring at what she had revealed. "Is all this really you, Reuben? Landsakes, I've never seen a body change so much."

She lowered the shirt on the far side of the shaft and plucked gently at the black curls clustered around the bottom of it: "I never saw one as big as this on my illustrations of Greek statutes, but I have seen these before."

Her fingertips juggled his balls lightly, and she watched in fascination as the man jerked as though she was hitting him instead of barely stroking the taut skinned eggs of his testicles. "Reuben, can you feel that?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Fine -- fine. So what I'm planning is that whenever a woman is claimed by a man she has to do whatever he says. Whether with him or with his friends as well, and with the other girls chained to her in that coffle helping out. Do you think a game like that would make your soldiers happy?"

"God, yes!"

"And you'll agree to tell your men about the suggestion and let them decide? The women for tonight if they'll help save the town tomorrow?"

"Yes! I'll tell them!"

"Alright, Reuben. Now, just as a matter of interest, if you were a Roman and I was one of the Sabine women, what would you make me do for you right now?"

His hands reached out, one gripping her hair, the other seizing her behind the neck in a vice-tight hold. "Open your mouth, slave." He bent her head forward, close to the top of his swollen organ. "OK, Amanda, let's see you fire off my cannon."

She squealed -- quietly. Her jaw hung open as he positioned her where he wished, then pressed her head down onto his rampant manhood. He felt her lips slide around him, the dampness of her tongue against and around the sides of his erection. Far from resisting him, her head began to bob up and down on his shaft as smartly as a feeding duck dipping below the water.