Posted by Extranjero on April 16, 2007 at 13:55:57:
DOLL SOLDIERS (Part 3)
Susie raised her pistol at arm’s length and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang round the courtyard, and a melon burst and toppled from its perch. Her narrowed blue eyes didn’t blink. The recoil felt increasingly familiar. The hammer clicked under her thumb, the cylinder revolving. She fired again, and scored another hit.
The dense heat of the day had waned, with evening coming on, but she was comfortable in bra and panties. A drop of sweat ran down her spine. Her short, fair hair was sticking to her brow. She stared across the courtyard at the watermelons on their pedestals. Beyond the wall, the dusty landscape rolled away towards the distant hills.
A bloody gout of memory made Susie’s stomach tense. For a moment she was back there in the grassland, watching girls convulse with pain as they were speared. And then the hungry Amazons were coming after her. She squeezed the trigger back, tight-lipped. A melon spattered pulp across the wall.
“Nice shooting,” said a languid voice behind her.
She looked around. A dark-haired girl was coming down the steps. She wore a hussar’s jacket in Napoleonic blue, waist-length and buttoned up with loops of braid. Below it she wore black lace briefs and polished riding boots. A swagger stick was clasped in her right hand.
Susie let her gun hand drop. She rubbed her arm, a little nervously. “Thanks,” she murmured, wishing that she had her own coat on. The woman stalked towards her, as deliberate as a cat. Her brown eyes and cascading hair gave her a gypsy look.
“Hello,” she purred. “I’m Debra, I’m a Captain of the Horse.”
“Susannah,” Susie said. “I’m with the Redcoats.”
The girl smiled condescendingly. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Susie turned away and brought her pistol up again. Her crotch felt sweaty in her briefs - her bosom too constricted by her bra. The buildings round the yard were quiet. The sandstone barracks brooded at her back.
Her next shot missed its target, chipped the parapet beyond and sang away. The empty landscape swallowed it. She flexed her sweaty fingers round the gun.
“I heard about the ambush,” Debra went on casually. “Not many girls get cornered by those bitches and survive.”
Susie scowled and took fresh aim. She didn’t want to go there. Her recollection of the fight was muddled, but images kept jumping out at her. She could still hear Katy screaming as the spearhead sank deep into her flesh ...
“They say you finished three of them,” probed Debra.
Susie’s revolver cracked again. The bullet split a melon with a thwack. A woman’s breast would sound like that. An Amazon’s plump tit ...
“So how would you like the chance to kill some more?”
Susie looked around at her. The dark-haired girl smiled smugly. “Tempting, eh? Do you know how to ride?”
Susie nodded slowly. She remembered going pony-trekking once. That had been another life - but riding wasn’t something you forgot.
Debra touched the silver-headed cane against her lips. Her smile grew wider. “We’re riding out tomorrow … going to hunt some of those little vixens down. Come along with us. It should be fun.”
The prospect brought a tingle of excitement. Susie blushed. It flattered her to think that she’d been chosen by this elegant young lady. Her eyes flicked to the bulge of Debra’s breasts beneath the braid. She moistened her dry lips and looked away.
“A Captain of the Horse, you said you were?”
“Not quite,” the dark girl tittered. “You misheard me. A Captain of the Whores is what I am.” She grinned at Susie’s startled look. “Don’t worry, it’s our joke. We’re hussars, so people call us hussies!”
Susie nodded, cheeks still flushed. It all seemed very different from the orderly traditions of the Redcoats. Debra touched her shoulder, gently squeezing Susie’s skin. “That’s cool. Come to the stables at first light.”
Susie watched her walk away, hips swaying gracefully. Then she wet her lips again and looked back towards the melons. She squinted down the barrel at the ripest of the globes, and sent a bullet punching through its flesh.
* * *
The evening air seemed mellow when compared to the sealed heat of the Control Vault. Jaz leaned on the balustrade and gazed across the tiled roofs below. The ancient, crumbled complex glowed like slabs of honeycomb and blocks of amber. The countryside around it slumbered in a golden haze.
Vincent joined her on the terrace, handing her a crystal flute of wine. “I hope she’s worth it, Jaz,” he said. “You know I have to keep my quotas filled.”
His eyes seemed paler in the light, his tone more serious now. She couldn’t help admiring his composure. The demand for front-line soldiers was relentless, and he had to keep that hungry furnace stoked. The Commanders had no interest in excuses. They would purge him without pity if he failed.
A little chill went through her, and she felt her nipples stiffen through her top.
And yet he revelled in his work: deploying the Dolls like someone playing chess. `Amazon spears Redcoat’ was the same as `Knight takes Pawn.’ His honorary rank was Shock-Troop Leader, but he’d never seen a real battlefield.
Jaz took a sip of cool white wine. “And you know what I have to keep the lid on. Barracks full of girls who are becoming better fighters all the time.” She gestured at the sprawling buildings round the citadel. “I need the best ones for the Guard - not bridling against it.”
Some vehicles hove into view along the lonely road. The golden light was fading and they had their headlamps on, bright dots against the drifting clouds of dust. Jaz stood watching them approach. A strange anticipation gripped her chest.
Knight took Rookie. Girl slew girl. But today the cold Black Queen had cleared the board.
* * *
The leading armoured jeep came through the gatehouse and rumbled to a standstill in the yard. Its black steel sides and sloping back were covered with pale dust, obscuring the insignia of the Guard. The driver’s door swung open and Louise climbed stiffly out. Her black crop-top was sticking to her back. She stretched and flexed her shoulders while the other jeeps pulled up. Her sunglasses enhanced her sombre look.
The other girls dismounted and stood cradling their guns. Most were armed with compact M4 carbines, while the rest had longer-barrelled M16s. Louise glanced round the courtyard. It was empty at this hour. She turned her head. “Okay, let’s have her out.”
Jessika was pushed into the sticky evening light. She straightened up, hands clasped behind her head. She was still wearing her parka, cap and jacket, and the journey here had left her drenched in sweat. Her damp hair hung in rat’s tails and her panties felt as if she’d peed in them. But after all those hours of dust, her mouth and throat were talcum-powder dry.
Her escort got out with her – “Keep your hands behind your head!” – and she suppressed the urge to rub her itching crotch. All the girls wore tight-fitting black tee-shirts and snug shorts. Their flesh was bronzed and muscular; they smelled of sweat and sunscreen. Their leader was bare-headed, brown hair tied back in a braid, but the others wore field caps with radio headsets.
Jessika looked round curiously. The buildings towered up towards the sky. Solid, sun-baked brickwork with a hint of the exotic, like a Moorish fort in medieval Spain.
Louise took off her sunglasses. Her pale blue eyes were cold against her tan. “Keep looking ahead of you,” she muttered. Jessika stuck her elbows out, her bra taking the strain around her breasts. Was that a hint of envy in Louise’s sulky look? The bitch was pretty well-endowed herself.
Another girl came down some steps. Her sweet face looked as eager as a puppy’s. She was a slightly plump brunette with big blue eyes and a complacent smile. Her tight black outfit flattered her. A holstered pistol rested on her hip. She gave Jessika a careless glance, then simpered at her leader.
“Nice to see you back, Louise. Good journey?”
“It was too cold in the mountains, and it’s too damned hot down here.” Louise rubbed at her neck. “I need a bath.”
“You sure do, Louise,” smirked Jessika.
The new girl’s eyes grew wider. “It’s ‘Spearhead Leader’ to you, bitch” she snapped.
“Easy, Claire,” said Louise, a little smugly. “We’ll teach the cow some manners soon enough.”
Jessika’s gaze flicked off around the stony-featured Guards. Their caps bore an arcane-looking insignia – a wide eye in a triangle with crescent moons attached. There was something weird and sinister about it. She looked back at Louise. “Why am I here?”
“The Battalion Leader wanted you brought in.”
“Is that a higher rank than Spearhead Leader?” Jessika feigned thought. “Of course it is.”
Claire was looking petulant. Louise just curled her lip. She gestured to one of the girls, who reached into the jeep and brought the Russian sub-machine gun out. Louise accepted it and turned the weapon in her hands. Its crude design contrasted with the modern, streamlined weapons of the Guard.
“I rather took a shine to that,” said Jessika mildly. “When you’re done, I’d like to have it back.”
Louise looked round at her and smiled – then drove the wooden butt into her stomach. Jessika gasped thickly and collapsed onto her knees. She slumped there with her head bowed till the blaze of pain had dimmed, then spat and gave Louise a twisted grin.
“Well now … Spearhead Leader. I can see we’re going to get on famously.”
* * *
The dawn air was already warm. The walls were flushed with pink and turning gold. Susie straightened her red coat and ventured through the archway. She peered around the empty stable yard.
A pretty girl sat waiting with her back against the wall. She looked up with an impish little smile. Her short jacket was midnight blue, embroidered with bright scarlet, and she wore a red felt peasant’s cap like Marianne the heroine of France. Her knees were parted carelessly, revealing her red panties. A naked sabre rested on its point between her boots.
“Hi,” said Susie shyly. “Are you one of the hussars?”
The girl had shoulder-length brown hair and playful hazel eyes. Her teeth showed in a dimpled grin. “I’m Wendy, yeah – one of the Shameless Hussies!” She spun the sabre on its point. The polished metal flickered in the sun.
Encouraged, Susie crossed the yard. She’d woken up both nervous and excited. Washing in the bath-house with the other naked girls, she hadn’t paused to fret about her looks. Today was going to be a big adventure. With luck those grubby Amazons would get what they deserved.
Reflexively she tugged her jacket down over her hips. The collar was undone; she might unbutton it some more when it got hotter. Her white helmet was tucked under her arm. She flicked her fringe. “Have you been on a raid before?” she asked.
“Sure I have. It’s cool,” said Wendy lightly. She gave the balanced sword another spin. She looked no older than eighteen and much too sweet to use it, but there was a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
Susie nodded, glancing round. This ancient-looking stronghold still intrigued her. The town was like a medieval fortress, its bricks and stonework crumbling with age. There were battlements beyond the red-tiled rooftops. The citadel loomed over everything.
“I’ve not been here that long … Although I can’t remember what I did before!” She laughed, a little awkwardly, and scuffed at the packed earth. “What is this place? How many barracks are there?”
Wendy shrugged. “Who knows? We’re not allowed in other compounds. There are enemies all round us, though. That’s why we have to fight.”
The turning sabre flashed again. The sun was coming up over the ramparts. Susie drew her gun and broke it open, as if to check the cylinder was full.
“Glad you made it,” Debra’s voice said dryly.
She appeared out of the stables with a chestnut stallion plodding at her heels. Her easy smile was full of reassurance. Susie snapped her pistol closed again and holstered it. Several other girls emerged, leading horses by the rein, and Wendy clambered lithely to her feet. The mounts stood waiting patiently while Debra introduced her shapely troop.
Susie put her helmet on and felt a little smarter. The other girls seemed friendly in a condescending way. Laura was an English rose, her fine-boned face as delicate as china. She wore a dove grey jacket and a pair of sheer white hose. Her pinned-up mane of hair was like spun gold.
She wore a rakish pillbox hat, but Lucy was bareheaded, her honey-blonde hair spilling down her back. Her face was softer, sweeter, and she smiled as if the sun were in her eyes. Her sky-blue jacket was bedecked with loops of silver braid. She was wearing white hose too, along with calf-high riding boots.
Fran’s slim legs were bare between her boots and thigh-length coat. The garment was dark blue, with gold insignia on the shoulders, and she wore a matching kepi with crossed sabres on the crown. Her mid-length hair was dark as malt, and her wide green eyes gave her an elfin look.
Susie was reminded of a posh girls’ pony club. She blushed and wondered how she would fit in. Lucy murmured something and Fran smirked behind her hand, while snooty Laura swung astride her mount. Wendy went to get her horse and brought one back for Susie. “Don’t worry, he’s a pussycat,” she beamed. Susie paused, composed herself and swung into the saddle. The sudden height increased her confidence.
Debra was already up. She walked her stallion over to the horse-trough. Laura waited, haughty and impatient. Wendy’s briefs drew tight across her bum as she swung up. Lucy and Fran were sniggering together. “All right, ladies,” Debra called. “Let’s go and stick some piglets!”
She’d put a dark fur hat on, with a silver skull and crossbones pinned to it. Nudging her mount towards the wall, she chose one of the lances leaning there. Susie turned her horse’s head and let the others go in front of her. The troop rode down an alleyway and crossed an empty courtyard. The gates were standing open on the countryside beyond.
“Watch out, girls,” called Debra, “there’s a Black Boar by the road.”
Susie grasped her rein a little tighter - then frowned uncertainly as they emerged. An ugly, slope-backed armoured jeep was sitting at the roadside, its engine idling and its lights still on. As sturdy as a boar, all right; it looked about to charge. A girl stood next to it, wearing black tee-shirt, shorts and cap. She had a rifle braced against her hip.
Susie looked round as she passed. The hard-faced girl stared back. Susie nudged her horse’s ribs and moved up next to Wendy.
“Who are they?” she murmured.
“The Command Guard,” Wendy said. “They run the place.”
Susie glanced around. “Are they our backup?”
“Kind of,” Wendy said sardonically. “If you try to run away, they’ll shoot you in the back!” She smiled at Susie’s startled look. “Don’t mess around with them. They protect whatever’s in the Inner Citadel. Some of us call them the Devil’s Breastplate ...”
Susie nodded pensively, then twisted round once more. The fortress looked impressive in the haze. She scanned the dusty landscape. There was no-one else in sight. The saddle rolled beneath her silk-clad buttocks. She relaxed into the rhythm, and reached down to pat her gun.
The Amazons had drawn first blood. But today she’d pay those bitches back with interest.