THE BATTLE FOR LONELY ROCK
Chapter Two: I Briefly Join the Confederate Army
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
My efforts to consider this new predicament of my situation (Union or Confederate) was broken by the cacophony that erupted down the street; it was "Dixie." I turned along with everyone else, to see a small musical band dressed in crisp, neat Confederate gray uniforms marching down the street. A banner held aloft on two poles said, "To Join The Confederate Army, Follow Us." There was a small group of people following and the men gathered about the store all trooped down to join them save for a several old geezers and some uncomfortable-looking young men...I guess I counted as one of the latter.
"You boys better go on down and sign up." one of the geezers said in the air of knowledge. "They's a draft going on and it's better you come forward on your own afore they come looking for you."
"But I can't!" one man said. "Without'en me, Ma ain't got nobody to care for the ranch."
"And I got four kids." Another man said. "Can't just hike off and abandon them."
"You can hire a substitute." one man said. "Somebody who don't have to join, like this young'un here" he indicated me "can go in your stead."
"So I don't have to go?" I said, relieved.
" Course not, if'n you's a Union boy." the old geezer said. " Course, they may also decide you're a spy for the Union and take you down to Amarillo and the prison they got there." The old man winked. "Think you know a couple of fellers there now, don't you?"
Yeah, the two men who had rap ed me on my trip in to Lonely Rock. Word had trickled back a week or so ago that they had been convicted of murder and were now in the prison there awaiting execution.
"I hear they are commuting sentences to those who'll join up." another old man chipped in.
"So they'll get you that way, or keep you until the war's over." the first old geezer said.
"You boys better go talk to King Carson." the second man said to the two with reasons not to join. "He's going to be the commanding officer, he can probably write you out a letter of hardship so you won't have to go."
One of them allowed as he'd best amble along after the others, then, so he could talk to whoever he needed to, and the rest of the young men followed him. I thought about doing the same, but declaring my pro-Union stance in a crowd of enthusiastic volunteers didn't seem to make a lot of sense; I decided to go to the King's Palace saloon to speak with King. He wouldn't be there, but maybe I could do some private talking instead of public talking.
As much bad as you've heard me talking about King Carson, I want to mention here that I didn't feel any personal sense of danger around him. His actions were indirect, and he left his dirty work to his henchmen. And as I've said, he was taken with me, so I didn't worry about his henchmen coming after me, either. King wanted to own me, but to own me because I had given myself to him. It was a fencepost-walking act I was doing by living here in Lonely Rock, but as Hunter had pointed out the last time I'd seen him, it gave me a certain immunity and I could maybe do some good.
But I wouldn't be worth a damn to Lonely Rock in the Confederate Army or worse, buried six feet under.
So time to move on down that fence and meet King Carson again face to face.
King wasn't there, and I hadn't expected him to be. He'd be wherever that band had been heading, helping sign the men up. I expected to sit out most of the day there, drinking beer and talking to Elo and whoever happened by.
To my surprise, the next person who walked through the door was King Carson! Dressed as he always was, in a finely tailored gray suit, his blond hair short and cleanly arranged under a wide-brimmed hat, classically handsome features, blue eyes that could melt stone, a fine-looking figure of a man. Alone, and looking a little downhearted. He looked at me, smiled and came over. "Hello, Ben." He said to me, like we were old friends. "Buy you a drink?"
My glass was nearly empty. "Why, sure, thank you." I said.
He gestured to Elo and said, "What are you doing in town?"
I shrugged. "Just came in for a visit, only I find everyone's busy joining up."
"That they are."
I ventured to bring the subject around to why I wanted to see him, little by little. "I thought you were the one doing the signing up, actually."
"So did I." King Carson shrugged as he took his drink. I got a beer, King Carson had his own private stock of wine which was served to him.
"You aren't an officer in the Confederate Army now?" I asked him.
"I certainly am." He said. "I'm a colonel with my commission papers in my pocket." he patted his chest. "Seems to be the rank they give somebody when they want to use them in some way."
"What do you mean?"
"I've been assigned right here to Lonely Rock." He said. "My job is to keep the silver flowing. The army has to be outfitted and paid, and without silver, there's nothing to pay with."
That's why the Union forces were heading our way, I thought to myself. "So you're doing your part by staying where you are."
"Yep." He said and drank his wine pensively. Before I could think of the next thing to say, he asked, "So why are you here?"
"Can't a fellow come in and have a drink?"
"Sure, only you're not here for that." He said. "Are you?"
"No." I said after a pause. "I'm here because I can't fight in the Confederate Army."
"No?" He said.
"No." I said firmly. "My family all live in New England. And I haven't lived here three months yet. Not to mention I don't believe in the Confederate cause."
"You should head back home, then." he said. "Be some trouble but not much to cross back into the United States."
"But I don't want to leave." I said.
"Better make up your mind." King Carson said to me. "Either this is your home or it's not. If it is, you should be willing to defend it. If it's not, you shouldn't be around making trouble."
"I'm not making trouble." I said. "I just don't want to go to war against my own kinfolk."
"So you came to me." he said.
I shrugged. "You were the one in charge, or so I thought. I guess I need to talk to someone else, though. Going to have to go over where everyone's signing up after all."
"Wouldn't do that if I were you." King Carson said. "They'd lock you up for sure."
"Why?" I asked.
"A Union sympathizer in a war zone, it's standard procedure." he said. "We're under martial law now."
"Oh." I said.
"You can swear an oath of loyalty to the Confederacy." he said. "But then they'll want to put you in the army."
"Jail or the army." I said. "Not much choice, is there?"
"You have one other choice." He said.
"What's that?"
"I'm a colonel. A colonel is entitled to have an aide." he said. "Someone to help with his paperwork and personal duties, run errands, make himself useful."
His aide. Damned if I shouldn't have seen that one coming! But I had come to ask him for help, and this was help, of a sort. Of course, it put me under his thumb and in his control, just as he wanted, but really, what other choice did I have? And it would keep me in Lonely Rock, as he said.
"Well." I said. "All right. I'll do it, and thank you."
"Be good to have you with me." He said softly. The next thing I felt was his hand as it reached over and cupped my buttock.
King Carson wanted me, it was part of my protection from his gunslingers. I had counted on it when I'd decided to stay in Lonely Rock. Stay to help fight King Carson.
Well, where is a better place to know what he was up to, than right by his side? I'd known all along the best way to get next to him was to let him into my bed. If I'd spent the last few weeks on the Salcedo ranch, it was because I was avoiding the necessity of being King Carson's bedmate. Which had left me isolated and uninformed of what was happening in Lonely Rock, the entire war had caught me off-guard, at least as far as this little piece of it was concerned.
So I let him keep his hand there, let him squeeze my ass like a farmer's wife testing out a plump melon for ripeness, let him pull my body up to his, lifted my face and his lips came in for mine.
They were gentle on me. Whatever King Carson was going to do, he wasn't trying to rap e me. He didn't mind tricking or even forcing me into his bed, but once there, I had to give myself to him, he wouldn't be satisfied with anything less. He wanted to own my soul as well as my body, as the living embodiment of everything he'd ever wanted and didn't have.
Except for Elo, we were alone in this saloon. It was cool, dark, comfortable, decorated with cut-glass windows and a stained-oak bar and shining brass spittoons, and a painting of an undeniably beautiful nude lady lounging all artistic-like above the bar. A small stage and a piano against the wall nearby represented his efforts to bring some entertainment to Lonely Rock though he hadn't succeeded at that, yet. This saloon spoke his intent, he would take care of what he owned, take very good care of it. To get that care, all a thing had to do was come up and say, "I belong to you completely."
And so his lips were gentle on mine, filled with the fire of his need but it was a burning, honest flame, and it's amazing how much difference that makes, it gave a dignity to this embrace, placing value into what could have been cheap and vulgar. I was giving myself to him, and he was grateful for it.
A strong, powerful man of the Western plains, the sort of man I had dreamed about in so many ways for so long, my own emotions didn't bear too close scrutiny at that time. All I'll say about it is that my body felt good pressed against his, even as his hands encircled me to contain me, even as his body contacted mine to claim me, even as his sighs of pleasure into my mouth demanded more, more. My cock was against his thigh, a line of warm, warm contact and I couldn't help but grind it against him, grind against this power, grind against this master of the world about me. My sworn enemy, my lover, my best friend's killer, my heart's desire. The conflicting emotions clashed inside me and yet it seemed that their clash did not diminish either of them, but combined them into feeding my pleasure, igniting my joy, fueling my passion. I had to have this man again, had to feel his cock inside me as it had been that one time before, my body the losing wager in a crooked poker game (I knew now what I hadn't known then, when King Carson played, Elo watched from the bar and signaled the other player's hands to King Carson, who bet accordingly. Elo, King's elder half-brother, his bartender, and his stooge, had brought me to that pass, lain upon the poker table and King's hard dong rammed into me as his men watched and hooted their delight at seeing their boss fuck the naive Northern city boy.
But there had been great pleasure for me in that prior time, and it was here again, for King was a desirable man whatever his scruples and intentions may have given me pause, and so my arms went about him in fully requited desire, I returned his kisses with my own burning ardor, I clung to this powerful man, master of life and death, owner of land and men, leader of all he surveyed, conqueror of everything he chose, and he had chosen me and I had surrendered to him.
In my surrender, of body if not of objectives, I slid down in his arms, I knelt before him and I bowed down my head to meet his hands fumbling at the front of his trousers, nearly tearing with urgent fervor at his buttons, forcing them apart rather than unfastening them, I wondered that they gave way rather than tearing the cloth, his hands were so rough, and then the material was parted and beneath it was pale thin cotton, and his fingers dashed inside the flap of these underdrawers of his and brought forth in triumph, as the handmaidens lead the bride to the groom's bed, his glory and his manhood to stand in majestic, raging splendor before me.
I wet my lips and reached forward to take this lengthy, fiery serpent into my mouth, and the cockhead was salty and slimed with crystal desire spewing from his slit, it poured onto my tongue as my lips squeezed the shaft slightly, gushing forth like homesteaders staking a claim with the lonely spike bearing their government number upon it, as the new owner rushes back to register his deed, so was this spot of salty prejizz left upon my tongue as I moistened his glans and then drew back to work up more saliva and then returned to my task of swallowing this magnificent pillar of flesh, of the town's most powerful man.
Looking up into his passion-stained eyes, I knew that this was how he wanted to take me this time. Later there would be the discrete pleasures of his bed, but now, he wanted me immediately and this was as good a place as any.
"Mmmhh!" King Carson groaned as my lips milked down the musky honey of his shaft and it poured onto my tongue. "Mh, ah, yes!"
His hands came up to cradle my head on either side, not forcing me or even guiding me, but there, registering possession of me, and I was left free within their confines to work my mouth's magic upon his cock, in slow rocking motions I worried his prick with my lips and tongue and now I had coated this massive pud with a coat of my spit, now it was slick and slippery and agile upon my tongue and lips.
King Carson was leaning back on both elbows upon the bar, and his eyes were closed in ecstasy and his body was a smoothly curving arc of pleasured manhood bent like the bow to sent forth the arrow of his masculinity into me. His every breath was tinged with delight, his features were softened with passion, his brow was moist with the heat of desire that can bring a body into sweat on even the coldest days, with minimal motions and exercise, still the body exudes the cooling water, and the only heat to soften is that of passion.
I squirmed on the floor, and then I let go and stood up. "More, more." murmured King Carson.
"This floor hurts my knees." I complained. "A bed would be better."
"Can't." King Carson said. "Colonel Chadwick will be here any time now. Have to be ready for him."
"I'll bend over." I offered.
"No." King Carson said. "Just hand me that chair." Mystified, I did, and he stepped onto it and from it onto the bar top. Standing there, he said, "Now, my new aide, you don't have to bend over."
Far from bending over, I had to step onto the footrest at the bottom of the bar and clutch the slightly raised edge of the bar with my hands so that I could be high enough to let King's prick return to my mouth. I had not improved my lot, replacing aching knees with a ludicrous posture, but I didn't complain the more but turned all my efforts into servicing his dong.
King Carson liked this pose, standing well above me, me straining to reach him, my lips letting loose grunts of effort which sounded like grunts of eagerness, he gave a throaty chuckle of his delight at my predicament, hunched his hips at my mouth when I faltered and I merely held on while he fucked at my face, his hands came down and now they clutched me tightly and controlled my head, his grunts took on a more insistent air and his cock burned my throat, his hips were driving the piston of his manhood into me and his groans of pleasure rose, mixed, clenched...and he was then shooting a hard load of salty, heavy jism into my mouth and down my throat.
I don't think I've ever tasted something with come as thick and heavy as King Carson's, it was like swallowing glue it was so thick, I was grateful that most of it jetted into my throat, where it clung and choked me but was at least past the barrier of my tongue's interior rise. When his groans of pleasure stopped and he was done, panting above me, I held his cock in my mouth while I struggled to consume his come, knowing that he would take remiss any spitting out of his sperm no matter how poorly it was positioned in my mouth, I had to work and worry it up onto my tongue and then down my throat.
Done, sputtering, choking some, I took a beer that Elo handed me without comment and drank it, washing down the thick load and King Carson refastened his trousers and sat upon the bar, still panting, he chuckled again at me as I looked up into his face, the eyes burning still but now with possession, with control. He owned me now, he was sure of that, and that gave him a great satisfaction. I did what I could to return an air of quiet submission without defiance...he didn't own me entirely!...and he said, "Well, that's a fair start to your duties." He cocked his ear. "And just in time. Here comes Colonel Chadwick and his cohort."
I turned to see a handful of gray uniformed men enter the saloon. King Carson slid down to the floor with as much dignity as anyone can in that position, and he said, "Ah, Colonel, how did it go?"
"Not bad." Colonel Chadwick allowed. He was a man in his early forties, with a strong black beard covering most of his features, he was gray uniform, beard and eyes and nothing else. "We signed up one hundred and twenty-seven men, all of whom seem to have a fair knowledge of firearms and most with their own rifles. We'll have to drill them into a unit, though, for now they're only a mob of men fired with adventure and ready to see the elephant of war." His eyes fixed upon me. "And who are you?"
"Colonel, I'd like to present my choice of personal aide for the Confederate Army's consideration. This young man is Benjamin Mott."
"Pleased to meet you, sir." I said, wondering if I should salute. I didn't, but maybe I should have.
"Mott." Colonel Chadwick frowned. "My report on Lonely Rock has him listed as a Northerner."
"He is, sir, but he has moved here and wishes to remain. Though he is uncomfortable in fighting those who may well be his close relatives, he will serve the Confederate cause as my aide here in Lonely Rock. With your permission, of course, sir."
"I'll take the loyalty oath." I volunteered. "This is my home, now."
"That would be a clean, neat solution." Colonel Chadwick said. "But tell me, son, do you know who is commanding the Union force which crossed into Confederate territory two days ago and is now marching this way?"
"No, sir." I admitted.
"Lieutenant General Edgar Mott." Colonel Chadwick informed me.
"My uncle?" I said.
"Yes." Colonel Chadwick said. "So you can see, Colonel Carson, why I must decline your request for this man as your personal aide, he must not be trusted with any secrets." Colonel Chadwick motioned to his men. "Take this young man to the local jail and lock him in. We'll figure out what to do with him later."
And so ended my brief stint as the personal aide of Colonel King Carson.
THE END
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