by James Lear
Late one Wednesday afternoon in early June we rode down into Penicuik, a few miles outside Edinburgh, where the captain commandeered quarters and announced that we were setting up in business as recruiting officers. As I undressed for bed, he conversed in whispers with a man on the stairs. ‘No fucking tonight,’ he ordered, as we climbed between the sheets. ‘You’ll need your energy for the morning.’ He kissed me, and I fell asleep with the impression of his moustache still on my face.
Thursday morning dawned fair, and we made a hasty breakfast of coffee and rolls before descending to the main room of the house, a substantial parlour about twenty feet square. I was curious to know who the house belonged to, and how we could take it at such short notice; the captain answered all my questions with a smile.
‘You really don’t need to know, Charlie. I have a lot of friends.’
‘So I see.’
‘Now, to business. We have to rescue Lebecque, yes? But we cannot do it alone. St Leonard’s is well guarded. A detachment of twenty men is stationed there. It is to our advantage that the castle is isolated beyond the town; the larger garrison could not be reached in less than fifteen minutes. That gives us, I suppose, ten minutes to storm the place, grab our man and quit the environs.’
‘Then let’s go!’
‘No, Charlie. We need an army.’
‘Oh, I see. And where are we going to get an army from? I suppose they’re just going to walk in off the street, are they?’
The captain laughed, ruffled my hair and went to the door, beckoning me to follow him. There was a queue of men, perhaps some thirty or forty strong, waiting patiently outside.
‘There, Charlie. There’s your army. Come in, one and all.’
I watched in astonishment as the men filed into the room and seated themselves at Robert’s bidding on the wood floor.
‘Thank you for coming, gentlemen.’ He used the term of address with a smile; they were anything but gentlemen. Labourers for the most part, I guessed; a rough, layabout lot, but young and strong. I guessed that, since the defeat of the Jacobite cause, there was no shortage of under-employed young Scots just itching for an opportunity to try their muscle against the English oppressor.
‘As you may have heard, I am in the market for a few good men to help me with a little project that I have in hand in Edinburgh.’ That explained the whispered conversation on the stairs; word had been sent around the area that Robert was raising an expeditionary force.
‘This is not an ordinary assignment, gentlemen, and it will not be suitable for all of you. I am looking for what I might politely call special forces. My lieutenant here’ (he indicated me) ‘and I shall interview you during the course of the day and assess your suitability for the job. We shall be taking a force of twenty men tonight. I ask you all to hold yourselves in readiness, and I say to those of you who don’t succeed - there will be other opportunities. You know me well, don’t you lads?’ There was a hearty cheer.
‘Right, now, if you will give us five minutes and then come upstairs two at a time, please. We’ll be as quick as we can.’
Robert took me by the arm and we raced upstairs. He was like an excited schoolboy.
‘What exactly is going on?’
‘I’ve got a plan, Charlie, oh, the most wonderful plan. And it’s all thanks to you and your little masquerade.’
It sounded insane. We would lead the attack on St Leonard’s Castle, a band of twenty men - all of us, bar the captain and I, dressed as women.
‘Don’t you see, Charlie? They’ll not turn us away. You know what soldiers are like, my boy. You’ve fucked enough of them. Most will do anything for pussy. Well, pussy we shall give them, but not quite the sort they are expecting. They’ll let us in, the “girls” will disarm them and then, at my signal - action! We take the castle, leave them to fight it out with the guards, take Lebecque and ride like the wind. Isn’t it perfect?’
I thought it was stupid, and told him so.
‘And you, great strategist, have a better plan, I trust?’
I held my tongue; of course he was right.
‘Very well. Now, Charlie, we have a lot of work to do. I know these men. They’re rough bastards, but they’re keen to have a go at the English. Most of them would do anything - and I mean anything - to get the chance. So we’ve just got to weed out the ones who are too squeamish to go through with my brilliant plan -’ he shot me a humorous look from beneath his black brows ‘- and the rest we’ll send home to raid their wives’ and mothers’ wardrobes. Ah yes, Charlie!’ He rubbed his hands. ‘I shall march at the head of an army of queens!’
It was impossible to resist his enthusiasm, and so I stationed myself at a chair behind a table and waited for my first ‘recruit’.
‘Up you come, boys, first two please!’ yelled the captain down the stairs. They appeared - brothers, I assumed, both dark-haired, both farmers from their clothes. Robert took one into the bedroom; the other stayed with me.
‘Name?’
‘Harvey.’
‘Age?’
‘Twenty-six, sir.’
I couldn’t think what to ask him next. I hesitated a moment.
‘Er... and are you sound in wind and limb, Harvey?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘No broken bones?’
‘No, sir.’
‘No infectious diseases?’ I was warming to my theme.
‘No, sir.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind quickly slipping out of your clothes for me, Harvey.’
He didn’t even raise an eyebrow; I suppose my impersonation of a military doctor was successful. He doffed his jacket, pulled his shirt over his head and started unbuckling his belt. My eyes took in a strong, sunburnt torso, a densely muscled stomach with a line of hair running down below his belt, which broadened out as he dropped his trousers into a neat bush of black hair. His cock, as he struggled out of his boots and socks, bounced heavily on a plump set of balls. He stood up, completely naked.
‘Attention!’
He straightened his spine and brought his feet together, staring straight ahead of him. God knows what he thought I was doing. I improvised, walking around him, tapping his chest, feeling the muscles in his arms, looking in his ears.
‘Open your mouth, Harvey.’
‘Sir.’
His jaw dropped open and I looked inside, pretending to inspect his teeth. I ran a finger round the inside of his lip, feeling the heat and wetness within.
‘Good. Now cough for me.’ I pretended to listen to his chest as he coughed, pressing my ear to his smooth tight skin as I did so.
‘And again.’ This time I cupped his balls in one hand. He coughed, and they jumped in their sac. ‘Spread your legs this time, Harvey.’
He placed his feet a yard apart and coughed again. I thought I detected a slight stirring in his cock.
‘Now bend over. Got to make sure that you’re all right up there.’
He braced himself against the desk and bowed, exposing one of the prettiest arses I have ever seen. I pushed and pressed against his hole.
‘No piles, Harvey?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Are you sure about that, soldier? We can’t be too careful, can we?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I’m going to have to give you a full inspection, I’m afraid.’ He looked over his shoulder; I noticed to my delight that his face was crimson and his lips slightly swollen. His cock was no longer dangling inert between his thighs, but had started to stiffen.
I wet my index finger and worked it inside him, keeping up a pretence of checking him for haemorrhoids.
‘Good. Ah, yes, hmm, good, that all seems fine. Just a moment, what this?’ I had reached his prostate gland. ‘There seems to be some kind of small bump here, Harvey. Can you feel that?’ I pressed a little harder, and he grunted.
‘Yes, sir, I can feel it.’
‘How would you describe the feeling, Harvey?’
‘Mmmf.’
‘
What? You’ll have to be more precise than that, I’m afraid. Is it painful, or pleasurable?’
‘Pleasurable, sir.’
‘And what about that, Harvey?’ I added another finger, and continued to bang his prostate.
‘Yes, sir.’ I kept my fingers inside him.
‘Now stand up straight, Harvey.’ His prick, fully erect, was a tasty piece. ‘Any problems in front at all?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Skin moves back and forward all right?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘It only seems to be pulled back halfway over your helmet, soldier. Show me that it goes back all the way.’
He grasped his cock in his hand and exposed his knob; it was a dark pink colour, flaring out obscenely at the ridge.
‘Now move it back and forth for me, Harvey.’
‘Sir.’ He did as he was told.
‘I didn’t tell you to stop.’
‘No, sir.’
And so he stood there and wanked himself off while I fucked him with my fingers from behind and kissed him on the neck. When he came it went all over the top sheet of paper on my desk.
‘Thank you, soldier.’ I threw the soiled paper in the bin, and made a fresh note of his name. ‘Get dressed and report here at six o’clock.’ He was beaming with delight, and even saluted me.
‘Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!’
Just then the other soldier emerged from Robert’s room looking similarly flushed and happy. The captain gave me a thumb’s up from within.
‘And Harvey!’ I shouted.
‘Sir?’
‘Send the next two up!’
‘Yes, sir!’
And so Robert and I worked our way through around three dozen men, most of whom were more than happy to go along with our depraved little plans. Those that weren’t were easy to detect; they found reasons not to undress, they confessed to ailments that they clearly didn’t have, then turned tail and fled. Only one of them turned violent on me, accusing me (quite rightly, I suppose) of being ‘a dirty wee fucker’. The captain leapt from his room and sent him arse over tit down the stairs.
At six o’clock the chosen twenty reported once more to the hall, where Robert briefed them on the details of the mission. At first, of course, the idea of dressing as women was greeted with howls of derision, but one look from the captain was enough to quell them.
‘You will do more than dress like tarts,’ he went on, in a quiet tone more commanding than any bluster. ‘You will behave accordingly. You will suck cock. You will get fucked up the arse, if needs be. Do you understand? You will do everything necessary to get those poor bastards at St Leonard’s so worked up that they won’t know which way they’re standing. Are there any questions?’
There was a certain amount of muttering, a little lewd laughter, but no complaints.
‘Very good. Now, you must all go home and get yourselves kitted out. I don’t want you turning up here looking like Old Mrs Miggins who opens the pews in St Bride’s. I want you to look nice. Understand?’
‘Yes sir!’
‘We march at midnight. We should arrive at dawn. That means we have time for one final... briefing. Charlie!’
I didn’t know what he was talking about.
‘Yes, Captain?’
‘I want to be sure that these men are all as good as they say they are. We don’t want any lousy fucks in our troop, do we?’
‘No, Captain.’
‘Right, men. Stand in line. Charlie: take your clothes off.’
I obliged.
‘Now come and sit on my lap.’
I did so. I was completely naked; the captain played with my tits and made me spread my legs.
‘This, men, is the greatest fuck in the whole of Scotland, possibly in the whole of the British Isles. This is the standard to which you aspire. I want there to be no doubt in your minds about the kind of enthusiasm you bring to this mission. And so, gentlemen, if you would like to prepare yourselves, you will all get a chance to fuck Charlie up the arse.’
It was my own fault; I had complained to the captain earlier that during all the fun and games of the recruitment interview, I had not had a chance to come. Now, I saw, he was paying me back in spades.
The captain leaned back in the chair and slipped a hand round the back of each of my thighs, hoisting my legs in the air so that my bum was exposed. My cock, of course, was pulsing with excitement as I watched the new recruits pulling down their pants.
‘Come on, then,’ said the captain, ‘who’s first?’
‘Me, sir!’ A great brawny blond, with curly hair and a pug nose, lined himself up and gently pushed into my arse. I grunted and shuffled around on the captain’s lap until I was comfortable, and the blond giant started to fuck me in earnest. My hand had crept to my cock, but it occurred to me that it would be a good idea to postpone my orgasm for as long as possible; I had an awful lot of fucking to endure.
After five minutes, the blond groaned and shot up my arse; his cock was quickly replaced by another, and another. Those that had finished wiped themselves and left; the others stood around watching and wanking. Finally there was only Harvey left. He was a handsome bastard; I’d been watching him throughout the last hour, looking forward to his turn.
‘If you don’t mind, Harvey, I’d like to join you,’ said the captain, setting me on my feet for a moment while he pulled his own cock out and slid it up my arse, which was now so slippery with come that it gave easy access. I sat down on Robert’s prick and leaned back as far as I could. Harvey could not believe what he was seeing.
‘Go on, man,’ I panted, ‘stick it in me.’
‘Anything you say.’
He pressed the head of his cock along the underside of the captain’s, and soon they were both inside me. I thought I would split open. They synchronised their thrusts and started to work on me. It didn’t take long; I can only assume that the heat of each other’s pricks sliding together added to the intensity for them. The captain came first, and jammed himself tight inside me; soon Harvey was adding his own load. I finally allowed myself to grasp my cock and, as both men watched, milked out a huge load that splattered all three of us as the chair collapsed beneath our combined weight.
At midnight we assembled in the town square, as strange an army as Scotland has ever seen. The boys had gone about the project with a good deal of enthusiasm (‘We’ve your arse to thank for that, Charlie!’ said the captain) and had decked themselves out in the most sluttish costumes they could find. Some of the younger ones could pass muster as women, just about; the older ones would only fool the most demented. Fortunately, they had made inventive use of shawls and gloves to conceal the more obvious signs of their true gender. In each pair of hands there dangled a pair of dainty women’s shoes; for now, they were shod in their working boots for the march on Edinburgh.
We set off in high good humour, the captain leading a hearty chorus of Loch Lomond as we rode at the head of our troops. I began to believe that the scheme might work.
By two o’clock, we were silent, trudging through the freezing air as Edinburgh loomed in the distance. Another hour brought us within striking distance. We skirted the town to the south and made our way to the lonely crags of Holyrood Park, from which vantage point we could see the walls of St Leonard’s Castle in the first glimmerings of the early summer dawn. Now there was no more laughter or play; with all seriousness, the men sat down on the grass and struggled into their women’s shoes, trying them out with short runs up and down the rocks, modifying them by breaking off a heel here, ripping open a toe there. The captain called them to attention and began his final inspection.
There was a weird solemnity about the affair. Last night I thought Robert was insane. I had gone along with his scheme, happy to have each and every one of the soldiers empty his balls up my arse, but scarcely believing that this ridiculous escapade could truly lead me to Lebecque. Now, however, there seemed a real possibility of success. The captain was a fine orator.
‘You know my signal?’ The captain pulled from his pocket a small silver whistle. ‘Two long blasts means attack. Short-long-short means retreat. There is no other option.’
The men nodded and stamped in the cold.
‘Very well, then. Follow me! For Scotland!’ He winked at me, and we rode on. We tethered the horses at Canongate and proceeded to St Leonard’s Castle on foot. Dawn was breaking; the sky in the east was already tinged with pink.
St Leonard’s Castle was an ugly hulk of a building, fenced around with tall spiked iron railings, its massive studded doors guarded by two soldiers with bayonets. We ran down the last hundred yards of the street; the guards were instantly on the alert.
‘Oh for God’s sake, boys, help us!’ stammered Captain Robert in a voice quite unlike his own, an effete English accent. ‘We’ve been attacked! Those cursed brigands have taken some of my poor, poor girls!’
The surviving ‘girls’ came limping up to the gate in a convincing display of wretchedness; the prettier ones had been pushed to the front, and looked imploringly at the soldiers.
‘Your papers, ladies,’ asked one of the guards querulously. He could not have been much older than me.
‘For pity’s sake, man, we’re desperate! They killed poor Susie...’ He feigned a sob, which was echoed by a shrill moaning from somewhere within our ranks.