WARNING: This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. Contains graphic gay male sex, reluctance, anal sex, nongraphic violence, and gay love all of which may be considered offensive by some readers.
All sexually active characters in this work are at least 18 years of age.
This book is copyright © Dirk Hessian 2011
Published by BarbarianSpy in 2011
Published by BarbarianSpy at Smashwords
Cover design © S Bush 2011
Cover images: Colonial Militiaman © Mark J. Grenier | Dreamstime.com, Young Man with Unbuttoned Shirt © Nataliya Hora | Dreamstime.com
ISBN E-book: 978-1-921879-58-6
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review or article, without written permission from the author or publisher.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All characters in this book are the product of the author’s imagination and no resemblance to real people, or implication of events occurring in actual places, is intended.
Not all books listed below may currently be on release.
BOOKS BY DIRK HESSIAN
Colonel’s Treasure
Beginning of Time
Prophecy of Noto
The King’s Men
Labyrinth
BOOKS BY HABU
Cairo Surrender
Fetish Galore!
Homeward Bound
Journey to Mirage
Choke Hold
Sporting Life
BOOKS BY SHABBU
Operation Black Jade
Cigars!
Angel in the Barn
Gayly Complicated
Despoiling David
The Tree of Idleness
Rough Road to Happiness
I Met a Man
The Interview
BOOKS BY SABB
The Legend of Holleystone Grange
Surprise Encounters
She is He
Wrong Man
Loyal to his King
Barbarian Tales - Book One - Traveler’s Tales
Barbarian Tales - Book Two - Journeys Begin
Barbarian Tales - Book Three - The Inheritance
Barbarian Tales - Book Four - Road to Persepolis
~
Colonel’s Treasure
Dirk Hessian
~
Chapter One
In many ways what Rob Winston was to become was decided by his father despite everything that man did to make Rob someone else altogether. And if the father had lived to see all that his son did and, in the end, was responsible for in the forging of the young nation that became the United States—as unheralded and unlikely as Rob Winston’s contribution was—he would have been amazed. He certainly would look upon it with mixed emotions, though.
The elder Winston did love his son dearly, even though his coming into the world was what ushered Robert senior’s wife out of the world. But the young man grew up so slight of stature and seemingly delicate of nature that the father did not believe the rough life at his tavern at the edge of Virginia’s Great Dismal Swamp on the post road between Williamsburg and the North Carolina government seat of New Bern was something the son would be able to endure. In those days of 1775, when the resistance to the British masters was coming to a head in the colonies of the New World, living even ten miles from such centers of civilization as Williamsburg and New Bern put a man in primitive conditions. This was especially so in the Suffolk area. Here tobacco plantations were just becoming established but had been in the region long enough for runaway slaves to have joined with the remnants of the Cherokee Indians who once lived in the area to form bands of pirates and bandits. These bands used the marshes of the Great Dismal Swamp to elude capture to set up lairs of their own—and then to prey on the plantations in the area and on travelers traveling the post road abutting the western edge of the swamp.
Winston senior’s tavern matched the rough life of the Suffolk area. It was one of the few places a man could stop for refreshment and lodging between the colonial capitals. But the greater part of its profit came from the other services the tavern owner provided—a place to gamble and a stable of woman—and young men—to satisfy other pleasures for a price. Robert senior made no apologies for the business he provided to maintain a livelihood for himself and his son. But that doesn’t mean that he sought the same sort of life for his son.
The senior Winston never intended that his son become part of the tavern’s special services, but the lad grew up so fair of looks and slight and willowy of body that it was inevitable that, if he were not sent away, sooner or later he was sure to succumb to temptation—or some man would succumb to his own temptation regardless of the musket Robert senior kept hanging over his bar. There, indeed, was a plan to send the youth to the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg as soon as he was of an age when he could start studying the law—with this being the father’s dream of establishing an easier and more civilized life for his son than he had enjoyed. And to this end, most of the profit from the tavern was going into a fund to support the lad in his studies. The family of a nearby tobacco plantation, the Sheridans, who had a son near young Rob’s age, was also cultivated so that Rob would have the support of a more well-connected and socially acceptable family linked to him in Williamsburg.
And as Rob grew into young manhood and filled out to be a handsome, red-haired, milky-white skinned, and sensual-visage of a man, the tavern keeper kept the young man away from the patrons of the tavern as much as he was able. What he did not do well enough, though, was to keep him away from the men of the tavern who were employed to entertain the tavern’s patrons as desired.
One such tavern male prostitute, a brawny, blond, and cocky Dutchman named Hans, who was the choice at the tavern of men who wished to be taken rather than take, took a particular interest in the newly grown young red-headed tavern master’s son. Most men would not have dared to meddle with the son of their employer without his permission—or, for that matter, without the permission of the young man. But Hans was not a man who cared all that much for what was wise or what others would do. He was a bold and self-assured and self-possessed man of large appetites and a focus on today’s desires with little regard for tomorrow. This remote area was one of living from day to day, with little trust in what the morrow would bring.
Young Rob Winston did nothing intentional to attract the desires of other men. But he had that effect on other men by his very nature. There was no indication that he was inclined toward a preference for other men—or, indeed, had thought all that much as yet of his preferences. There equally was little evidence he even knew of the special services his father offered at the tavern. The father had done as much as he could to keep young Rob away from the tavern life. He did not do enough to keep young Rob away from Hans, however.
* * * *
Rob had returned to his father’s house, hidden from view of the tavern and post road by a hill and a copse of trees, in the later afternoon. He had spent the day at the Sheridan plantation, where, to keep him away from the tavern business and connected with the Sheridans, and to add to the college fund, his father had arranged for Rob to work in the plantation’s tobacco fields. Although the Sheridans were among the wealthiest families in Suffolk and had slaves to work the fields, wealth was quite relative in this primitive backwater of Revolutionary War–period Virginia, and all of the Sheridans worked in the fields as well when needed in the planting and harvesting seasons.
The day had been hot, and Rob had worked hard and bare-chested alongside Will Sheridan and the plantation’s African-origin slaves. Returning home, he was hot and tired to the point of exhaustion. It was as much as he could manage to draw water in a bucket and sluice it over his torso next to the storage shed behind his house.
That’s where Hans found him, having seen the young Winston walking, bare-chested, breeches barely holding on to his slim hips, on the road from the Sheridan plantation, past the tavern, to the house. Hans had planned for months to be the first one to have the sensual young red head, if he could—regardless of what reaction the senior Winston might have to that. And he decided that this was the day he would fulfill his desire. It had been several days since the virile young man’s services had been bought at the tavern, and he was keyed up and needing to fuck something. Robert senior did not tolerate his prostitutes servicing each other.
Thus it was with the immediacy of lust and inevitability that he walked over the hill between the tavern, where the senior Winston was safely busy tending bar, and the house, with determination. He stripped away his own shirt as he walked, knowing that he looked good and perhaps would gain entrance with the young man more the ready if young Rob was inclined toward other men. Whether or not he was, however, Hans was determined to have his way with the lad.
“Hans!” Rob exclaimed at the approach of the man he knew to be employed by his father as a barkeep.
“You look well spent, young Rob. I know it must be hard work in the tobacco fields. Come, let me dry you with that cloth.”
Rob was taken aback by the forwardness of the Dutchman, and found the man close to him and rubbing his chest with a dry cloth before he could react either way. He also was too young and naïve to understand the overture for the seduction it was.
As Hans toweled Rob’s body, working the young man’s trembling belly now, Hans leaned over and whispered in his ear. “You know you have grown into a very desirable young man.”
“I don’t know . . . did my father send you on some errand to give to me?”
“No, young Rob. Your father did not send me. In fact, I think you will not want your father to know I have been here. You tremble at my touch. Don’t tell me that you do not enjoy being close to me.”
Hans was crowding Rob against the wall to the shed. He towered over the young man, nearly twice Rob’s size—but all muscle and virile manhood. Rob was hyperventilating from the power the other man was asserting—and from his near proximity. Responses were stirring inside Rob that he had never felt before—or rather that he’d felt before in slight ways, when he worked with Will Sheridan in the field and beside some of the young African-origin slaves—but that he had not consciously thought much about.
With Hans, though, Rob was increasingly understanding that the responses were sexual in nature—and that, as frightened as he was, he also was consumed by curiosity and wonder about the possibilities that were open to him.
“My father—”
“I came because I mean to fuck you, Rob. I feel you responding to my touch, wanting me . . .” Hans was very close to Rob now, one hand trapping the younger man against the wall and the other tracing the lines of Rob’s heaving chest “. . . and I mean to do so whether you wish or not. Are you a virgin? Will I be the first? I ask, as, if you are, I will be more gentle. But I will have you regardless.”
With that he leaned in and took Rob’s lips with his and ran the palm of his hand down Rob’s belly and unbuttoned Rob’s britches and found that Rob had begun to engorge for him.
He pulled away from Rob’s lips. “Ah, I feel that your body has decided that you want what I have for you.” He laughed then.