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This work is actually by two authors Battleaxe Babe and Jacque Adore. The characters and copyright are owned by Jacque Adore and Battleaxe Babe. All feedback welcome.
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By jacque_adore© and battleaxe_babe ©
“Bad, very bad,” Miss Sophia Cooper said to herself as she fought to control her rising panic. She knew she would have to act quickly, very quickly, if she did not all would be lost.
Sophia had no idea where the French soldiers had come from, she had walked down to the lake to collect water to heat the fire and when she had come back three soldiers were sitting around the fire she had built. Her Mercenary was sitting against a tree with a gun pointed at him. He seemed so calm, in fact he looked amused, she wondered if he had some kind of escape plan. But she was not about to rely on him to free himself. In a strange twist of fate she would have to rescue the man she had hired.
The soldiers were wearing messy dirty uniforms which told her that they were probably deserters and that the men around the fire would be the only ones. Whilst it was good that they were on their own, it also meant they would not be interested in taking prisoners. Sophia was sure that if they were as out of shape as their uniforms she could match them in a fight, but she would need to get close and she would need a distraction.
She looked about herself; there was her bucket of water and a few fallen branches, neither of which seemed very inspiring as a weapon.
There were weapons in the camp but she would have to get right up close to reach them. There was one other idea, not very appealing, but still it seemed better than the other option.
Five minutes later and soaking from the bucket of ice cold water she had poured over herself she stepped forward from the tree line into the clearing completely naked. Sophia pretended to be lost in thought and to have not noticed the men in the camp, but she knew they had noticed her. The look on all of their faces, including her Mercenaries’, was something she would never forget.
Miss Sophia Cooper with her blonde hair did indeed look like a vision stepping from the trees. She was tall at about five foot nine inches and she had her shoulder length hair hanging wet down her back. Her whole statuesque body shone as the light reflected off the ice cold water. Sophia had the body of a wealthy woman; she was clearly not near starving as most of the local population was. She had large full breasts that now, free of her corsets, hung naturally. Each breast had a large erect nipple pointing ever so slightly downwards, and they were surrounded by large dark areolas like ripe grapes, just ready to be eaten.
Beneath her breasts Sophia’s figure slimmed to a naturally narrow waist and below that, swelled wide hips and a slightly rounded tummy. She had an incredible pair of perfect long legs, toned by years of horse riding and between her legs was a neat thatch of fluffy blonde hair.
Sophia’s heart was beating fast, not at being exposed to so many men, but the thought that if she could not defeat them she was going to be in big trouble. Once the element of surprise was gone there would be little she could do to stop these three soldiers from doing whatever they damn well pleased with her. She could not help imagining the crude things her Uncle had told her about. As she approached the men her mind was full of images of the three men thrusting into her, her pale white body pinned beneath their rough uniformed bodies. Their members would fill her mouth, her pussy and worse of all sodomize her. She would be at their mercy, unable to stop them from using her.
The Frenchmen exchanged a few words and she acted as if she had just noticed them; then pretending to be shocked she brought up her hands, one to cover her breasts and one to cover between her legs.
“Who are you? What are you doing here and what have you done with my clothes?” she demanded walking towards the centre of the camp fire. She deliberately avoided her Mercenaries’ eyes; she did not want to see him enjoying her exposure as she was sure he would.
The French men did not speak any English or at least they pretended to not understand her. She moved right up against the fire, as if needing the warmth but placing herself within reach of the pan on the fire.
“Do you hear me, what have you done with my clothes?” she demanded as haughtily as she could.
One of the soldiers, she assumed the leader moved towards her, his body coming close, she wanted him to get near. She could tell he was aroused, his trousers looked uncomfortably tight; in another situation she might have been flattered. Another solider moved around to her right, they were beginning to circle her. The third soldier remained at the edge, next to her Mercenary.
The Solider next to her said something to his comrades and they laughed smuttily, that was her escort şişli moment. Moving with lightning speed Sophia jerked her knee up between the soldier’s legs feeling a satisfying crunch and the man just fell away from her. Not wasting any time she quickly grabbed the hot pan off the fire and threw it towards the second Solider.
He instinctively grabbed at the pan and caught the hot metal in his bare hands. There was a brief sizzle then he howled in pain and dropped the pan to the ground. He turned and ran away, heading for the lake.
Which just left the third solider; Sophia knew she would have to deal with him before the first solider recovered enough to move. She spun around to where he had been and stopped dead, finding herself staring in to the barrel of his musket. It was aimed at her belly. She froze, her heart sinking. All was lost; all she could hope was that he would shoot and miss her and then she could close the distance between them quickly. But if he did not shoot he could just hold her at gun point till the groaning soldier at her feet recovered.
Sophia watched as the man’s thick lips pulled back over his yellow stumps of teeth, she shivered feeling cold for the first time. Then, without warning the man collapsed. As he fell forward onto the ground she saw her Mercenary standing behind him with a big grin.
He crouched down and pulled his short knife from the fallen soldiers back, then walked towards her.
“Aren’t you full of surprises Miss Cooper,” he said acting as if he was going to embrace her, or maybe take what he wanted from her as she now stood naked and exposed in front of him. He changed direction at the last moment and Sophia could not help feeling disappointed. She instantly berated herself for that thought.
The Mercenary bent down and picked up the leader of the soldiers by his uniform jacket, then carried the struggling French man out of the clearing leaving Sophia standing by the fire. She wrapped her arms around herself, wondering what she was getting herself into?
Later that same evening her Mercenary, or Anthony Debeaufort to give him his full name, sat quietly by the side of the fire contemplating this mysterious woman who had commissioned him. He had at first written her off as a typical spoiled military daughter. The girl considered herself to be the equal of her father, he had not expected her to make the journey this far. In fact he had deliberately taken the hardest route to test her resolve and to get rid of her.
Anthony could concede that Miss Cooper was pretty, albeit in an average sort of way. When he first met her he had not considered her special, she certainly was not his type. She was too tall and big for his tastes, plus he had also grown rather accustomed to the tanned Mediterranean women. The lean faces of the local whores had made quite an impression on his tastes. This Miss Cooper was certainly nothing like them. But then Miss Cooper was like no woman he had met before in his life. He was fairly certain he could have dealt with the three French Soldiers on his own, but he would not have been able to do it as easily as Miss Cooper. For sure he would have ended up with more bruises. The way she had moved was something to behold. She had been prepared to strip completely, knowing that he would see her more intimately than anyone in her life. She had not needed to do that for him, he knew he would have to find some way of thanking her.
He rubbed his cheek, his face covered in the early stages of a beard; he was handsome in an unfashionable way. His blond hair was slightly too long and pushed back over his head, he stood just over six foot tall, taller in his riding boots. He had a lean body tight after so many battles and skirmishes over the years.
He shook his head, even though she had saved him,
Miss Cooper was still an annoyance. It was really too dangerous for her to be on that mission and he could do without her smart comments. He rested his head against the tree whilst watching her moving about camp, he imagined those large breasts; they had looked so soft, he imagined how they would feel in his hands.
He fell asleep with a smile on his face imagining what it would be like to show Miss Sophia Cooper what a real man could do to her.
Two days later Anthony stretched his arms as much as his chains would allow. Rightly accused of desertion he had been locked up in the old Spanish fort which the British Army had recently commandeered. He was of course in the jail of the old fort, which he imagined had been used for such a purpose for at least three hundred years. He looked around himself; the dry dusty walls lit only by a small light high in the wall.The window was too high to be of any use to him as a means of escape.
The cell was possibly eight feet by eight feet wide, not a big cell but not a tiny one either.
The walls were made of thick old stone; he guessed that as they were in the base of the fort, the besiktas escort walls would be at least 10 feet thick. There was one door, a heavy wood one with metal banding; it had probably kept forlorn prisoners in this cell for hundreds of years. He found himself pacing the room as much as he could. His feet were in manacles and his wrists were shackled together and then attached the wall. He was half flattered by the extra restraints, it would seem no one was taking chances with him.
Anthony was not even sure that being in his own cell was a blessing or a curse, true he had been spared the stench of the other prisoners, but he had also been denied any chance of collaborating and devising a means of escape.
He could not help but laugh at how it had all worked out for him, such bad luck. Once again he told himself that he should have stuck to his gut reaction and walked away from Miss Sophia Cooper when he had been offered the chance, before she had involved him in her fool rescue mission and before he had found himself captured by the British Army.
Anthony found himself thinking of her, remembering how she looked naked in the clearing, fighting the two Frenchmen. Yes, despite himself and despite her being responsible for his current predicament he could not help but admire her. Few women would have embarked into such a mission.
Anthony shook his head, sentimentality would not help him now, he had thrown the dice and lost. He had been playing the game for so long that it was bound to happen eventually and now he would have no choice but to wait and see what punishment the army would give him. He wondered if he still had any influential friends that might speak on his behalf, or whether having succeeded in Miss Sophia Cooper’s rescue mission would count in his favour.
All he could do was wait for his military court hearing, then he would find out whether he would be court marshalled in disgrace, flogged as a common solider would be, or maybe shot for desertion. None of the options sounded appealing.
Having freshly arrived in Spain, Miss Sophia Cooper took a deep breath and walked into the tavern. She clutched her purse tight in her hand and tried to walk as dignifiedly as she could. There would be no reason for a fine upstanding woman like her to enter such a place, but she did not have any other choice.
The same moment she entered the room, it fell silent. She stood in the doorway in her travelling dress; with her bonnet on her head she could not have stood out any more. Around the room were filthy looking men accompanied by even dirtier looking women, there was so much cleavage on display. It amused her to think that it was like the King’s court in that respect.
She recognised the man she was looking for, he sat at a table on his own, in front of him was a half-eaten chicken and a jug and glass. The glass was half full and he was looking straight at her. His eyes bored into her and seemed to know that she was here for him. Those eyes were unnerving but she could not look away.
Sophia walked towards the unshaven man in his odd mix of uniforms, all kinds of regiments and armies were represented in his clothes. As she began to walk towards him the conversation started up again and no one seemed to pay her any more attention.
“Well if it is not Lord Grantham’s bride to be,” he said surprising her by already knowing who she was, “And how can I help you?” his tone was crude and bored, he showed no real interest in her and after a quick glance his eyes turned to the chicken in front of him.
“I…” she paused, “I am Miss Cooper, and I wish to engage your services Sir,” she said as calmly as she could. This was her last chance.
“On a rescue mission I assume?” he said lazily, still not looking at her. Somehow he already knew,
“Please do not be surprised Miss Cooper, I had been informed you were looking for me, hence I have allowed you to find me. However I suspect that my colleagues were a little too generous in their descriptions of your beauty. I find you plain at best, and yet you no doubt consider yourself beautiful.”
“Sir, I find your insults intolerable, I have done nothing to warrant such abuse, if you do not consider my money good enough to buy your services then please allow me to leave before you feel it necessary to insult me further,” she said feeling hurt, first Percy and now this man.
“I will take your money, but you will pay me now, after all what good will the money be to me if I am dead. Ten pounds will buy my services for your rescue mission and I will return your father to you when I am finished.”
“You must take me for a fool sir, I will be accompanying you, if you want my money then you will have to take me. I am well versed in riding and shooting. I am easily the match for any man,” Sophia said forcefully.
“Prove it,” he said producing a shiny clean duelling pistol from under the table, he pointed at a tankard at the end escort taksim of a table at the far side of the room. A distance she reckoned of about fifteen feet. “If you can hit that tankard you can come.”
Sophia confidently took the duelling pistol from his hand and pulled back the hammer. She cast her eye over the weapon. She had to hide her smile when she noticed the barrel was rifled. The rifling on the barrel would put a spin on the ball and give it a greater accuracy. This would be an easy shot.
Without saying a word and ignoring everyone in the room, Sophia sighted the tankard and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed round the room surprising anyone who had been minding their own business. When the powder smoke cleared the tankard was gone.
With all eyes in the room now on her, she handed him the pistol, then pushed a small purse into his lap.
“That is five pounds, I expect you at my lodgings at 6 tomorrow morning and we will begin our journey. Good day to you Sir.”
Anthony Debeaufort turned the warm pistol over in his hands as he watched the mysterious woman leave the tavern. He certainly had not been expecting that. This was going to be an interesting mission, he thought to himself before beginning to drain his jug of wine.
The day before she had left England Miss Sophia Cooper had stood dumbfounded outside her uncle’s study door; she knew she would soon be called in, after all she had heard every word that had been said.
Her father was a captive of the French, he had had been caught by the French, with weapons and a vast some of gold . She did not want to believe it, but that was what the man in his far too smart uniform had just said.
As there had been no official reason for them to have been so close to French forces with the gold and weapons, it had been surmised that they had been working on their own behalf. As such there would be no rescue attempt by the British Army and there would also be no ransom paid.
Sophia did not wait to be called in the office; she headed straight to her room as fast as she could run to open the letter her father had pressed into her hand the day he left. Before he had left he said if there was any trouble to open the letter, but if he returned safely she would be expected to hand it back still sealed.
She ripped open the letter and read its contents quickly. After she had finished she sat back on the bed and took a few deep breaths, then reached for the bell to summon her maid. She would need to do some travelling, first to London to get her father’s money and then to Spain on the first ship on which she could obtain passage.
As she awaited the maid she glanced at the letter, which explained everything. Her father was attempting to obtain information about the French forces posing as a man with few morals about making money. The letter went on to detail that if anything went wrong the British command would denounce him and he would be considered a traitor. If that happened she was to take the money he held in a London bank in her name and she was to organise a rescue or prisoner exchange. Her father explained that she would be able to use her fiancé Lord Percy to speak to Wellington to arrange all that.
Her chest filled with pride, her father had trusted her to arrange his safe release. He could not have bestowed on her a higher praise. She would finally see Spain and the vast armies of Lord Wellington she had heard so much about.
Sophia was also excited about seeing Percy, her fiancé, once more. She could not wait to see the surprise on his face.
It took longer to see his face than she imagined.
She tapped her foot on the grass, attempting to vent the tension. She had been there since 10 at least and it was now past lunchtime. Lord Grantham, better said her fiancée, wanted to make her wait. Sitting outside of a tent waiting to be received by him was humiliating.
An attendee walked out of the tent and nodded in her direction “Miss Cooper” indicating the entrance. She rushed inside, sure to be close to the solution of her troubles.
Lord Grantham was sitting on a sofa, smoking his pipe with his usual haughty look.
“Miss Cooper,” She started to think she could hate that name, for it had been pronounced so many times and it had never brought her closer to the end of this nightmare.
“Percy, my father…” she did not get to finish the sentence as he stopped her with a wave of his hand
“I know, I know already” he took time. “What are you here for Miss Cooper? I supposed it was obvious that our to marry is no longer valid and you should return to England very soon.”
“What?” she stared at him in disbelief “How dare you? With all they have done for England!”
Lord Grantham stood up, his thin figure in direct contrast with Sophia’s full figure.”For England,” he said, taking his time, “your father is a spy and you are just a traitor’s daughter. The only thing you can do is go back home and plea to the Parliament for mercy, if they will be so merciful to receive you, Miss Cooper,” he pronounced hastily. “You are now worth less than a hanging noose, your title and dowry will be wiped ” he paused, taking another smoke from the pipe.
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