Bikini Black 3: Shield Maidens


Posted by Extranjero on October 17, 2007 at 11:13:24:

SHIELD MAIDENS

When Becky was at school, she used to baby-sit sometimes. It had been the easiest money she’d ever made. Four pounds an hour to spend the evening on a neighbour’s sofa, eating their food and watching their TV.

Now, a few years later, she was doing the same job. With a few important differences, of course. She wasn’t on a sofa now, but stretched on a sun lounger, her body gleaming ripely in the heat. The money she was getting was a whole lot more this time.

And when she looked after someone’s kids, she didn’t need a Glock strapped to her thigh.

The pistol’s plastic shell made it so light to carry round that she occasionally forgot she had it on. She wore nothing else but Gucci shades and a stylish gold bikini that went nicely with her oiled copper skin. Her body was petite but full of promise, her large breasts straining at her low-cut top. A jewelled stud winked brightly in her navel. Her dark hair had an elfin cut, in keeping with her pixie-pretty face.

Behind the mirror shades, her eyes were open. Even as she wallowed in the heat, she stayed alert. After all, she wasn’t at the villa on vacation. She and the other girls were being paid to do a job.

It wasn’t the kind of work she let the taxman know about, still less the temping agency she worked for. As far as they were concerned she was a mousy secretary, too shy to have a life outside the job. They wouldn’t have believed she was a self-employed assassin, one who’d killed so many times that she’d lost count.

The contract was different this time, though. Protection, not predation, was the aim. She and three more freelancers had been hired to guard an heiress at a villa on the Adriatic coast. The girl was on vacation with a couple of her friends: they were all from rich New England families. Her father had suspected that male guards might get “distracted”, so he’d found some female talent for the job.

Zoe, another of the team, came out through the French doors. She was a tall, lean blonde with perky breasts. Her black bikini highlighted her English rose complexion. The gun on her thigh was black as well, a Beretta M9 in a garter-holster.

“How’s the heir-head?” Becky asked, and Zoe smiled wryly. “I think our clients are having a lie-in. Too much alcohol for too few brain cells.” Zoe’s well-bred tones belied the glint of mischief in her calm blue eyes.

“Too right,” said Cheryl from her own sun lounger. “And no one said the job included heavy lifting, like!” She was a small, dark-eyed brunette with a chirpy Northern accent. An Uzi submachine gun lay beside her on the tiles.

The clients had got so drunk last night that they’d had to be half-carried from the nightclub. Their bodyguards had hauled them off, trying not to reveal the guns beneath their frocks. This morning, all was quiet. The rich girls hadn’t showed for breakfast. The protection squad were glad to have a break.

Cheryl flipped her shades back down and settled on her lounger. Her olive skin had darkened in the sun. She wore a sapphire blue bikini, skimpy and expensive. It emphasised her cleavage shamelessly.

“Now, girls,” chided Anna as she climbed out of the pool. “We shouldn’t look our gift-whores in the mouth.”

Becky smiled at that, although she didn’t much like Anna. The girl had a snooty attitude which stemmed from being Head Girl at her posh school. Her ash-blonde hair and pale blue eyes just made her look more haughty. She thought Cheryl was common, and that Becky was a punky little tyke.

Anna’s hair was tied in a thick braid, and she was topless. The sun reflected off her glistening breasts. She was wearing high-cut orange briefs, but didn’t pick the top up; just towelled her body carelessly, then shrugged into her shoulder rig instead. The slim straps went over her shoulders like a cupless bra. The holstered Sig-Sauer automatic nudged the outer swell of her left breast.

Becky watched impassively, her shades masking her stare. Then she sensed a movement by the French doors, and looked round. The heiress, Nancy Sheraton, was peering out at them. Her golden hair was in her eyes and she had a cotton sheet wrapped round herself.

“Come take a look at Debra,” she instructed, as imperious as her headache would allow. “I think there’s something wrong. She won’t wake up.”

Anna raised a supercilious eyebrow, not bothering to cover up her breasts. Zoe put her Coke can down. “I’ll check her out,” she said. Becky tried to look concerned as she lay luxuriating. She watched the two blonde girls go back inside. Part of her still wondered how these rich bitches got named. A French city and a hotel? Perhaps it was where she had been conceived ...

Zoe came back out a minute later. “There’s something wrong, all right,” she said. “I’ve told the maid to call an ambulance. So make sure your guns are out of sight. But by all means leave your tits out if you like.” The last was addressed to Anna, who responded with a condescending smile.

The ambulance arrived within ten minutes, siren mute but blue lights flickering. It pulled up outside the villa and its crew of four got out. The Filipina maid, Leilani, met them at the door. The responders were all female, with a brisk, efficient air. The two paramedics wore tight blue jumpsuits. Leilani blinked and realised they were twins. Both girls were pale and very slim, with a winsome prettiness. But one’s face was framed by dark straight hair, while the other’s hair was dyed a garish red.

They were followed by a nurse wearing a trim white uniform. She had a cap pinned to her sandy hair. A bespectacled young doctor was the last one through the door. She had a sweet but earnest face, and wore a short dress under her white coat.

Leilani led the way, her doe eyes anxious. She knew she’d get in trouble if Miss Sheraton’s vacation went awry. They reached the stairs and the doctor touched her shoulder. “I think we can find our way from here,” she said.

As Leilani turned, she felt a tube poke at her breast. The doctor had a pistol in her hand. Before the young maid could react, the weapon bucked against her. The silencer disguised the shot, and Leilani’s tender flesh absorbed the sound. “Ough!” she grunted, rearing back to thump against the wall. A crimson blot appeared on her white dress. Her bulging cleavage brimmed with red as her body slithered downwards. She slumped aside and the blood came spilling out.

The paramedics were already opening their bags. Each twin took out a matching gun: a Mac-10 with a silencer attached. The dark-haired girl went up the stairs with the doctor at her heels. The nurse took a pistol from one bag, then followed the red-haired twin towards the pool.

Nancy’s other friend, Louise, was sitting up in bed, rubbing at her aching temples, wishing that she hadn’t drunk so much. Someone opened the bedroom door and she looked up muzzily. I don’t need an ambulance!, she thought – and then her blue eyes widened in alarm. “Ohmigod …” she bleated and the Mac-10 coughed at her. The bullets tore into her pampered flesh. Louise gasped and whimpered as the impacts made her squirm. She flopped against the pillows with her final shocked expression fixed in place.

The pool was on the far side of the villa, and no-one heard the muffled sounds of death. Zoe turned her head as someone came through the French doors. She’d left her holster on her lounger. Now she clutched in vain at her bare thigh. The red-haired twin just smiled and squeezed her trigger. Zoe squeaked and squawked with pain as the bullets riddled her from tits to navel. Her body disco-danced, then dropped, her lifeless limbs still graceful. The silenced gun kept spluttering, the bullets ricocheting off the tiles.

Becky swore and tried to rise as adrenaline surged through her. Her fingers closed around the Glock, and she felt a brutal punch to her right breast. The impact spun her round and she pitched down into the pool. Her body sank, then hung suspended, floating in a universe of pain.

Cheryl squealed and scrambled off her lounger as the vicious squall of bullets sought her out. She rolled out of the redhead’s sight, behind the rockery. The twin ceased fire and gestured to the nurse. The girl in white moved round to try and get a better angle – but Cheryl had snatched her Uzi up, and fired one-handed as the nurse appeared. A crop of poppy-bright eruptions marred the girl’s white dress. She juddered backwards, whimpering, and crumpled with her white cap still in place.

Cheryl sat up, panting with reaction. Her plump breasts heaved in her bikini top. She glimpsed a movement, swung to aim, then realised it was Anna. The snooty blonde was crouching on the far side of the pool.

Between them, Becky floated to the surface and drifted face-down in a haze of red.

Cheryl’s shades were still in place. She gestured with her Uzi. Anna smiled complacently, still aiming at the house. Cheryl raised her head but couldn’t see the paramedic. She glanced across the pool again, and saw Anna’s gun was pointing at her now.

The blonde girl fired at once, and blew a hole in Cheryl’s forehead. Her shades flew off, revealing startled eyes. Anna had always thought the girl used too much eyeliner, but then she was a trashy little tart. Cheryl’s head fell back, revealing blood-splashed flowers behind her. The Uzi dropped aside, unfired. Her bosom joggled as her body slumped.

Anna gave a spiteful smile and straightened up again. The red-haired twin had lowered her Mac-10. The two of them surveyed the scene, then went back into the villa.

Becky’s lungs were bursting, but she dared not raise her head.

Her right breast throbbed volcanically, but the slug had gone clean through it, exiting below her armpit. Just a flesh wound, but it hurt like hell. She let herself stay motionless as her blood darkened the water. She didn’t know how much she’d lost, but she was feeling drained, light-headed, almost drunk. A part of her was ready just to sink into the gloom. Surrender was so easy. But she wasn’t a submissive kind of girl.

She turned her head and took a breath. The water lapped her face. No one opened fire on her. She drifted with her wet hair in her eyes. At last she risked a look around. The sun deck was deserted, apart from Zoe’s corpse and Cheryl’s, crumpled like rag dolls.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she swam towards the steps and hauled herself onto the side. Her punctured breast began to bleed afresh. The bikini top cradled it like a sling, but each movement seared right through her. Her Glock was lying where she’d dropped it. Becky picked it up.

Upstairs, Nancy Sheraton was goggling at her captors. She was still sitting on Debra’s bed. Her friend lay boneless, breathing shallowly. Then Anna came into the room and beamed at her employer. “Still out of it, is she? Too bad. Perhaps I made the dose too strong,” she said.

Nancy’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a part of this?” she squeaked.

Still smiling, Anna padded to the window. She’d holstered her Sig-Sauer and it bumped against her breast. The fields around the villa were deserted. There’d be nobody to see them drive away.

“I slipped your girlfriend something,” she admitted. “And then my colleagues waited for the call.” She glanced towards the girl in glasses. “What’s your diagnosis?”

“It’s terminal,” the doctor said, and shot the sleeping girl between the tits. Debra arched her spine, then slumped, as inert as before. But her smoothed-out breasts had ceased their rise and fall.

Nancy flinched back with a wail, and Anna grasped her hair. “And as for you, Miss Moneybags, you’re coming for a ride. How much does Daddy think you’re worth?” She levered Nancy’s head back. “One of your nursemaids did for Jenny, and that’s going to cost.”

The redhead led the way downstairs, her jumpsuit half-unzipped now. “Get the CCTV tape,” called Anna. “The machine’s in a cabinet in the dining room.” The twin went through the archway and came face to face with Becky. Her watery blue eyes widened, and the bleeding girl pumped two rounds through her chest.

The impact of the double-tap blew the redhead off her feet. She seemed to sail back in slow motion, grimacing with sudden agony. Her reactions were just fast enough to squeeze off one last burst, but the Mac-10 twisted from her grasp. Then her tits popped out as she thumped against the wall.

The girl dropped like a heap of washing. “Sadie!” squealed her sister, horrified. Anna dragged her pistol out, still hanging on to Nancy. The doctor aimed over the banisters. No-one emerged from the dining room, so the kidnappers kept moving. “Finish her!” snapped Anna as she hauled the captive heiress to the door.

The dark-haired twin looked ashen, but she doubled back at once, advancing on her sister’s corpse with her Mac-10 braced. The doctor covered her. There was silence from the dining room. The twin gnawed at her lip, then started firing blindly round the doorpost. The coughing rattle of her weapon mingled with the sound of breaking glass. Then she ducked into the room, still triggering the gun. But nobody was lying in wait for her.

The twin dropped to a crouch to check beneath the dining table. The doctor edged through after her, her automatic levelled in both hands. At the far end of the room, the smashed French doors stood open. They could see the sunlit pool outside, its sky-blue waters stained with a dark cloud.

They crossed the room and peered out. Three girls in bikinis lay where they’d collapsed. The nearest was a small brunette, staring blankly at the sky, a bloody wound still oozing in her breast. A blonde was sprawled beside the pool, polluting it with scarlet, her midriff stitched with half a dozen holes. And over by the rockery, a third girl slumped, half-sitting. Her head was bowed as if in sleep – but her body looked unmarked.

The twin gave a bitter, tearful smile and stepped out through the doors. “I’ll teach you to play dead, you bitch,” she hissed. Taking aim at Cheryl’s corpse, she stepped round Becky’s body – and Becky, still lying on her back, brought up an automatic in each hand. Zoe’s Beretta and her own Glock exploded in a barrage that went ripping through the twin’s soft abdomen. “Awwghh!” the dark-haired girl cried out and jack-knifed off her feet, the sub-machine gun spinning from her hands. Becky kept on firing and the twin was held suspended, then pitched onto the tiles like a shot bird.

The startled doctor switched her aim as Becky rolled aside, but the girl in the gold bikini moved too fast. She sat bolt upright, triggering both pistols steadily. The bullets whacked into the doctor’s breasts. The girl in glasses grimaced as the impacts flipped her backwards. A high-heeled shoe went spinning off one foot. Becky glimpsed her panties as she went arse over tit, her body crashing through the shattered doors.

Anna heard the gunfire as she reached the ambulance, still dragging a sobbing Nancy by the hair. She glanced around, her bare breasts heaving; fingers flexing round the Sig-Sauer’s butt. The shots were followed by an eerie silence. Anna’s pale eyes narrowed as they flicked between the terrace and the house.

Still there was no sign of her pursuer. She backed towards the ambulance. “Get in, Miss Moneybags. You’re going to drive.” Nancy climbed in, snivelling, and Anna followed her. As she slammed the door behind them, Becky appeared on the balcony above.

Her breast was throbbing fiercely, but the pain kept her from fainting. The loss of blood had drained her, but she didn’t hesitate. Vaulting the rail, she dropped onto the ambulance’s roof, then slithered down the windshield to fetch up spread-eagled on the vehicle’s hood. She was on her back, her crotch thrust towards Anna, aiming her Glock with one hand while the other scrabbled to arrest her slide. The blonde girl’s mouth became an O, and then she raised her pistol, but Becky beat her to the trigger, shattering the windshield with her shots.

Pow. Pow. Pow. Pow. Pow.

Anna reared back in her seat as the slugs bit through her bosom, her firm flesh quivering with every hit. She screamed with pain, and Becky’s last shot punched into her brow, snapping back her pretty head and silencing her agonised complaint. The last contraction of her heart spewed blood out of her tits, and then her body flopped and was inert.

Becky slithered off the hood and landed awkwardly. She lay there for a moment, panting, then climbed slowly to her feet again. Nancy was sitting petrified behind the steering wheel, with Anna’s lifeless body nuzzling her. Becky helped the heiress down, and then surprised herself by hugging her. Nancy sniffled and clung on tight. “It’s all right,” Becky murmured. She glanced at Anna’s blood-splashed corpse, then led her client back towards the house.