“Do you think you became a general because your initials were HUG?” She asked, teasingly, her hand already undoing the buttons on his trousers.
“Yes, that was it exactly,” he frowned, pushing her hand away, while simultaneously trying not to spill his drink.
They’d been drinking and sparring, which of course were her preferred methods of foreplay. But now, a few drinks into the evening, she’d tired of waiting for the surprisingly prudish Grant to resort to his baser instincts, and insisted on pushing him along.
“Do you miss fighting?”
“It doesn’t interest me. It never really did; I would’ve preferred teaching it. But, you make do with what you have. The hardscrabble way.”
“So you’d say you’re more of a lover now?”
Sometimes her attempts at coyly changing the subject were painfully transparent and his only response was a sarcastic exhalation. Still, he’d left the buttons on his pants undone, so she knew the night was still going to end well for both of them.
“A dandy named HUG who can’t eat meat and talks to horses,” she laughed. “How have you been able to command anything?”
He downed the rest of his whisky, discarded the glass, and grabbed her wrist. “Do you want me to show you?”
Her eyes lit up; yes of course this was what she wanted. They’d agreed previously on safe words (such boner kills), and she understood that while in public he could be a little prissy, here he would be anything but.
“I’d certainly like you to try.”
He turned her around sharply, twisting her arm behind her back. The pain was exquisite. Roughly, he shoved her into the bed, and ripped open the back of her dress.
“Is this what you want?” He demanded, spanking her like she was Robert E. Lee.
Muffled into the pillow came her response, “Is that all you’ve got?”
He spanked her again, harder, leaving a fiery red mark on her ass. She fought to right herself; he disallowed it and spanked her again. He pressed his erection up against her, and she grew wet anticipating the railroading to come.
“I know you can’t wait. You’re my little whore.”
“Fuck off,” she replied, but she widened her legs anyway. “You disgust me.”
“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to fuck you until you like it,” he responded, and invaded her. She bit the pillow to keep from showing her enjoyment, as was part of their fun, but she was absolutely loving the way he felt, and the way he went hard without abandon.
He continued to assail her, spanking her, prosecuting her body like he’d prosecuted the KKK. He grabbed her hips roughly, pulling her into him over and over, aggressively filling her snatch. He couldn’t get enough of her body, of watching her ass while he took her.
Finally, he flipped her over, tossing her around like a doll. She liked submitting; liked that he treated her like one of his battles. He was threatening to split her, and showed no sign of slowing. Her body accommodated him and he pounded harder. She clawed at him, scratching his face and neck. He grinned and batted her hands away easily. He caught her wrists, pinned her to the bed.
“Give it up, babe,” he grunted. “You’re mine tonight.”
She struggled against him anyway, enjoying the feeling of being overpowered, and safe in the knowledge she could shut it down anytime. He held both her wrists now over her head, with one hand, and the other closed around her throat. She met his eyes, tacitly acknowledged this was good, and succumbed to him. She fought for breath; he thrust harder. The idea that tomorrow she’d have bruises aroused her, and she arched her hips to meet his insistent general. He relaxed his grip and she caught her breath.
“You like this don’t you?”
“Fuck you,” came her reply, as she dared him to keep playing.
He grabbed a handful of her hair, sharply pulled her head back. The pain was intense, but the feeling of his turgid member inside her was enough to distract her.
“You little slut,” he laughed at her attempts to wriggle free. “You couldn’t wait to take this cock. Tell me you love it.”
Tight lipped, she refused to answer. Her reactions to his violent movements betrayed her enjoyment, but he wished to hear it anyway. He continued to slam into her, forcing her to keep taking him like he forced the South to acquiesce to Reconstruction. She wrapped her arms around his neck now, fingernails digging into his back. Her moans encouraged him, though she continued to refuse to say more. He pinched her erect nipples and she let out a tiny scream of pleasure.
“That’s my little whore,” he exclaimed.
“I’ve had better fucks from confederates,” she responded, a clear lie because her pussy was a little discerning. But it worked, and he pinched harder, angrily; then sped up his assault on her womanhood. It was exactly what she wanted; they both knew it. He implemented her with his gold standard; she felt in control and powerful, and quite sure she would have trouble standing in the morning. She still neglected to give in, allowing him to continue reasserting his dominance with enthusiasm.
He knew release was near, and he slowed, finding her love button with his hand. She reacted favorably, unwilling to risk him stopping.
“Oh fuck that’s… wow,” she whispered.
“Oh that you like?” He withdrew his hand like he was withdrawing from Spotsylvania.
“Mmm don’t stop, please.”
“You’ve been a bad girl. I’m not sure you deserve this,” he traced her body frustratingly lightly. She tried to arch closer to his hand, and he pulled away again.
“Tell me, baby. You want to come for me, don’t you?”
She nodded, finally, as the pressure on her clit intensified. He was good at this, as good at this as he’d been at Vicksburg, impressively able to see the small picture and not just the whole war.
“Yes, yes sir I’m so close don’t stop,” her ruse was abandoned; he’d won and she didn’t mind at all. He could feel her tightening, and he picked up his pace while continuing to touch her. He could have whatever he wanted; her body was right there; the edge was in sight. He was close too and his moans and her moans met and crescendoed, the sounds being enough to help each other orgasm. She shook under his practiced finger, pulling herself closer to him, wanting the climax to keep going. He filled her up, confident the only thing he shot now were blanks.