Colonel's Treasure

He opened the dispatch to discover that it announced a change of plans in the campaign. Philadelphia, the rebel's capitol, lay defenseless before General Howe's forces in New Jersey. Howe believed that was a larger prize than what they hoped to gain in New York with a pincher maneuver of his forces from the east and Burgoyne's forces from the north. He was willing to continue with the set plan, as it had been blessed by London, but, unless Burgoyne sent a request to this effect back to him within a week, Howe would take and occupy Philadelphia instead.

Burgoyne could be waiting for half the army to join him, not knowing it would never come, Winston realized. He rejoiced in the thought. By keeping this message from reaching Burgoyne, he, Rob Winston, could be of more service to his beloved Colonel Hampton and the colonists' cause than any soldier could.

The dispatch was quickly consigned to the fire in the hearth.

That night, after St. John had beat Rob with the riding crop, fucked him against the pole, and then dragged him back into the bed and fucked him again, like a dog, digging his fingernails into the newly opened cuts, all hell broke out in the fort.

They heard the most ungodly savage sounds from beyond the stockade walls to the west, and the sky lit up like it was day. The Huron camp was ablaze.

St. John struggled out of the bed and pulled on his breeches. He took up his long rifle propped up by the door and ran for the stockade gate.

As soon as he was gone, Otetiani climbed in the window at the back of the hut. Rob pointed to his chains in despair, but with a mighty heave, Otetiani pulled the bed frame asunder and Rob was free. Rob was naked, but Otetiani gave him no time to find his breeches and pull them on. They escaped through one of the open sections in the stockade fencing.

They reached the fringe of trees at the opposite side of the fort from the burning Huron encampment without any of the British soldiers seeing them. Eight of Otetiani's handpicked braves he'd taken on the raid were waiting for them there. A loss of four, but several fewer than Otetiani had calculated would be killed in the raid. There were ten of them, including Rob, and only nine horses. Without a moment's hesitation, Otetiani took Rob up on his horse with him and snuggled the young man into his lap. He barked orders to his braves and they all started to file quietly away from the area of the fort. When they'd forded a river, Otetiani barked again and his braves took off in a gallop in three different directions.

None of them were with Otetiani and Rob now, though. The two rode on through the night. Rob gradually became aware that Otetiani was getting hard. And the savage's tool was free of his codpiece. That monster cock of his was rising up the small of Rob's back and they were losing speed. The Indian warrior's palm had been on Rob's belly for many miles, helping to hold the young man steady on the horse, but now it was wrapped around Rob's cock and the young man was being stroked off has they cantered across the meadows.

Winston was trembling and becoming fully aroused. The horse was still cantering along in a rolling motion, but Otetiani raised Rob's hips and when he brought them back down, Rob's ass channel was sinking onto that huge, thick cock. The cock was moving inside Rob's channel to the rhythm of the horse's gait. It was all too much for the young red head. He ejaculated onto the silky mane of the horse's lower neck. Otetiani stopped the horse at that point and slid off. He pulled Rob off and laid him down on the soft ground in a field of clover on his back. He unstrapped a rolled-up blanket that had been on the horse's rump and wedged it under Rob's buttocks so that his hips were raised, his legs were spread, and his back was flat on the ground. The Indian chieftain knelt between Rob's legs; he propped a heavily muscled arm on the ground on each side of Rob's torso and his face hovered over Rob's. His hair was loose and cascaded down onto Rob's chest in long strands. Otetiani leaned down and kissed each of Rob's nipples in turn and then he looked directly into Rob's eyes.

This was no ceremony or necessary action. Otetiani wanted him. And he wanted to know if Rob would receive him with the same need. Rob reached down between them and took Otetiani's hard cock in both hands and guided it inside his channel. He closed his sphincter muscle over the base of the huge bulb when it had moved inside him and then drew the cock in slowly with his channel muscles, causing the walls to ripple over the throbbing cylinder. Otetiani's eyes opened wide and a big smile spread across his face, and then he lowered his face to Rob's and, for the first time, they kissed deeply, while Otetiani began to stroke hard and deep inside the young man.

Waves of pleasurable sensation rolled through Rob's body. He was fucked often and had more or less become numb to it, but no one had the length and thickness and strength of this man and a half. Or the staying power, as Rob learned when he was ridden and ridden and ridden while he writhed and bucked against the master fuck—or the recovery power, when after multiple spoutings inside him, the Indian chief returned almost instantaneously to the saddle and rode him some more. The twelve fuckings of Otetiani's virile warriors hadn't left Rob this exhausted or satiated.

* * *

The Shewan raid on the Huron chief's camp was fully accepted as an act of war by the Iroquois nation itself, and a third of Burgoyne's forces that he'd been welding together to wipe out the revolutionary forces in the Mohawk Valley evaporated into internecine warfare. The failure of half of the total forces of the campaign—General Howe's troops that now were occupying Philadelphia—to materialize at all put an end to any hopes of a knockout invasion from Canada. Weeks later Burgoyne surrendered his troops upon taking too few men into battle at the Battle of Saratoga, and the bottom had dropped out of Britain's strategy to hold on to its American colonies.

Rob Winston went on to Albany, where Colonel Hampton thought he'd been all along, and when he was fully healed and returned to Hampton's camp to take up his duties as Hampton's aide and lover once more, he was all congratulations on the miracles from heaven Hampton described to him that had made the British forces evaporate before the American forces in the Mohawk Valley.

"Yes, yes, the gods have been good to us," Rob whispered. He moaned as the colonel's tongue moved up his inner thigh and his lips closed over the young man's cock. Rob began to rotate his hips and murmured his pleasure at the fingers invading his entrance, preparing him for the second fucking of the night, the love fucking, given almost apologetically for the brutality of the earlier tension-release fucking.

Rob glanced over toward the entrance of the tent, hoping to be able to see the hint of leather fringe and feathers there. Otetiani had been here earlier in the evening, and Hampton was making him wait to give his report until after his had taken his evening pleasure with his aide.

Rob spread his legs and arched his back and wrapped his arms around his lover's shoulders, as Hampton's hard dick started its slide into Rob's hole. Rob cried out and moaned for the colonel's invasion, knowing this would please his colonel.

He looked back through the shadows to the tent opening. Yes, Otetiani was still there.

Later, after Otetiani had given his report and when a satiated Colonel Hamilton was snoring on his camp bed, Rob stole out into the night, beyond the staked horses, to the special tree to the waiting arms and the hours of riding the wave of ecstasy on the monster cock of his savage master.