Posted by Extranjero on April 16, 2007 at 13:58:25:
DOLL SOLDIERS (Part 5)
Lifting the saddle off her horse, Susie shouldered it and went into the tack room. She felt as if she’d just done a stiff workout at the gym. Her muscles ached, and beads of sweat had trickled down her ribs. But the glow of satisfaction was the same.
Her red coat hung unbuttoned now, revealing her slick cleavage. She scrubbed a hand back through her short, damp hair. The blood spots on her cheek had dried, but felt as hot as when they’d spattered her. She placed the saddle on a hook and looked around for somewhere she could wash.
Debra had already gone to turn her prisoner over to the Guard. The Amazon was still unconscious, slung head-down across her saddlebow. Fran and Lucy, too, had come back draped across their saddles, and no-one had attended to them yet. Laura was more interested in pampering her pony, and Wendy must be rubbing hers down too.
Susie glanced around before adjusting her silk panties. The hours astride the horse had left a thumbprint stain on them. She touched it surreptitiously, and blushed to the dark roots of her fair hair. The musk of her own sweat was in her nostrils. She really needed to feel clean again.
The best part of a workout was the hot shower afterwards; but what did these bleak barracks have to offer?
She went back out into the yard. The heat was mellowing. Wendy was by the water trough, feeding an apple to her horse. Fran and Lucy’s mounts were tethered to a hitching rail. The giggly pair hung motionless, heads bowed in mute submission. Fran still wore her dark blue coat, but Lucy was half-naked. Susie stared, and rubbed her mouth, then walked across to Wendy.
The girl gave her an impish smile and rubbed her horse’s muzzle. Her jacket was unfastened and her bare breasts looked as sleek as polished fruit.
“Hi,” said Susie bashfully and bent over the trough. She splashed her face with tepid water, rinsing off the blood. It dribbled down between her tits. She ploughed her wet fringe back.
“Okay?” murmured Wendy in her ear. She slid her arms round Susie from behind. “Yeah,” said Susie, gazing at the water. She felt a moment’s awkwardness, then let herself relax. The warm cushions of Wendy’s breasts were pressed against her back. The feeling sent a tingle through her loins.
“It always shakes you up a bit,” said Wendy soothingly. “One minute, it’s like a game - the next, there’s people dying on both sides. It’s always good to get back here. We can remind ourselves we’re still alive ...”
Her hands slid over Susie’s breasts, then slipped inside the coat to fondle them. Susie shifted awkwardly but didn’t pull away. The intimacy both flustered and aroused her. A little thrill went fizzing through her nerves.
“You know that Debra fancies you, I take it?” Wendy purred.
Susie felt her cheeks grow hot. “I didn’t, no …” she said.
Wendy gave her tits a squeeze. “The killing turns her on. When she gets back, she’ll need to screw somebody ...”
Susie took a shaky breath. Her nipples had grown stiff. She turned her head. The yard was still deserted.
“Listen …” she said hoarsely, “shouldn’t we … go somewhere else …?”
“Why wait?” Wendy said, and eased her forward. Susie gripped the stone rim of the trough and bent across it. Wendy’s hand caressed her arse, then delved into her panties. Susie felt it slip between her thighs and almost squealed.
“ … oh Wendy, no …” she whispered - but the fingers were already in her pussy. Pleasure filled her pelvis as they rubbed her clitoris. Susie gasped, then bit her lip, her body arching forward. Her bare breasts dangled through her open coat.
Wendy’s horse moved skittishly. The air grew thick and hot. Susie quivered, grimacing; her mouth fell open in a silent moan. Wendy wanked her expertly until she teetered, squirming, on the brink. A last touch pushed her over, and she slumped against the horse-trough with a sob.
The sticky fingers gentled her again and slid away. Susie waited, panting, then looked round. Wendy’s grin was mischievous, but lust shone in her eyes. Her breasts were taut and rosy with arousal. Her sex was bulging through her red lace briefs.
Susie took her hand and squeezed. The two girls hurried over to the stables. Slipping behind Laura’s back, they climbed into the hayloft. By the time that Debra reappeared, they were stifling their whimpers in the straw.
“Where’s that little minx got to?” asked Debra with impatience. She’d slung her jacket round her shoulders, framing her bare breasts with loops of braid. Her swagger stick was in her hands, as if she meant to give the girl a spanking.
Laura shrugged dismissively and simpered at her captain. She hoped that Debra would choose her instead. Debra flounced around the stables, looking petulant - then sighed and beckoned to the posh blonde girl. Laura coloured prettily and followed her, unfastening her jacket.
Outside in the stable yard, the two dead Hussies dangled silently.
* * *
Sullen thunder rumbled in the darkness. The night was full of unaccustomed rain. It drummed against the tiled roofs and spurted from the gargoyles, cascading to the paving stones below.
Vicky paused to listen for a moment - then settled back and focused on her book. Despite the open shutters and the rain, the night was stifling. She was nude beneath her short silk robe, but it felt like she’d been smeared with rancid butter.
Shifting on the couch, she turned another yellowed page. The antique tome continued to absorb her. Others like it filled the room, crammed into every corner. The voices of a fallen world were at her fingertips.
Vicky was an archivist and researcher for the Guard. Before being snatched, she’d worked as a librarian. Her mind had been wiped clean of that, but her bookish instincts wouldn’t be denied. Bright but much too shy to be a fighter, she’d been fast-tracked to the Citadel instead. Her spectacles and strait-laced air sat oddly with her Unit Leader rank.
She reached out for her glass of wine and took a thoughtful sip. The distant thunder growled again - or was it gunfire, out there on the ranges? Setting down her glass, she kept on reading. Vicky had no interest in the plight of the Doll Soldiers, though many of the battle-games were based on facts and details she dug up. She looked no further than her books, and the military antiques around the room. A musket hung on one wall, and crossed claymores on another. A braided coat was slung around her chair. Every now and then, Louise would bring her a new piece for the collection. Naturally she cleaned the blood off first.
A subtle ache had started in her bladder. She made a point of finishing the page, and then got up. Still reading, she went through into the passage. Her toilet was an alcove with a simple wooden seat, in keeping with the medieval house. Padding in, she unfastened her robe and hitched it up. Her milk-and-honey skin gleamed in the lamplight. She sat down with her thighs apart, and turned a new page over as she peed.
A wink of lightning caught her eye. It cast an unexpected, looming shadow. Vicky glanced up from her book and caught her breath in shock. A tall girl in black underwear had stepped into the doorway, a look of sly amusement on her face. She wore a pair of combat boots and a jacket with a death’s head collar patch. Her German forage cap was black, her auburn hair bedraggled from the storm. One of Vicky’s antique swords was dangling in her hand – a claymore with an ornate basket hilt.
“Looks like a good book,” said Jessika.
Vicky simply gaped at her – then sucked in air to scream. Jessika brought up the sword and thrust it at the archivist’s firm breasts. Vicky pressed the book against her tits in helpless reflex. The sword point pierced the musty tome and drove into her unprotected flesh.
Vicky made a guttural sound, eyes wide behind her glasses. It felt as if her lungs had been squashed flat. Jessika grinned fiercely and leant into the thrust. The doomed girl choked and wriggled in despair. Her hands clutched vainly at the book as agony engulfed her. The words she’d been absorbed in were now soaking up her blood.
Jessika kept pushing till she heard the point scrape stone. Vicky bucked around the blade, then let her head fall forward. Her hands flopped to her sides and left the book pinned to her chest, like a butterfly to a collector’s board. Blood oozed out from under it and streamed towards her nest of pubic hair.
Jessika breathed out delightedly and straightened up. She left the claymore buried in the corpse. Vicky slumped aside, her cheek and shoulder to the wall, her legs splayed wide in languid invitation. Jessika stood savouring the view, then turned away. Heart thumping, she went back through Vicky’s quarters, and rooted round for the researcher’s gun. Vicky rarely wore the thing and had left it in her desk, still in its holster. Jessika drew it out and took a moment to familiarise herself. The weapon was a Glock 17, with a lightweight plastic shell. She strapped the holster on above the black vee of her briefs, then looked around the cluttered room once more. So much for Louise’s little bookworm. The volume skewered to her chest seemed most appropriate.
Its title was The Night of the Long Knives.
* * *
Chrissie heard the muffled sound of thunder in her sleep. It grumbled like a dragon through her dreams. She turned and twisted fitfully, then snuggled closer to the girl beside her. Both of them were naked underneath the cotton sheet, which clung in patches to their sticky skin.
The dragon faded in the rain, and Chrissie smiled faintly to herself. She was a tanned, athletic girl with dark-blonde hair and nonchalant good looks. Louise had made her Section Leader overseeing mobile operations. She looked good in the turret of a Black Boar armoured jeep, her hair unpinned and blowing in the wind.
The girl in bed with her had been selected from the barracks: a pretty blonde Doll Soldier called Michelle. Back in the world, she’d been a college student, preparing for a history exam. Now she parodied the very wars she’d learned about - a re-enactor dressed in lace and braid.
Chrissie had seduced the girl with all her clear-eyed charm, then bedded her in passionate rough sex. They both lay slick and sated now, divided by their dreams, although their heads were resting cheek to cheek. Michelle saw herself writing an essay on the grass, still blind to what the future had in store. Chrissie dreamed of being a flirty chalet girl again, a world away from dust and diesel fumes.
Then the thunder growled again, and Chrissie felt a shadow on her skin. Her dream began to break apart and left her mind suspended in midair. The tacky sheet slid off her breasts, as if pulled by a ghost. She sensed a presence looming over her.
Something heavy trapped her legs. The sheets felt damp and cold. She realised it was just a breaking nightmare. Her mind had woken up, but all her limbs were still asleep. A murky shape was kneeling on the bed.
Jessika craned forward with a pistol in each hand. One of them was Vicky’s Glock, the other the Sig-Sauer from Chrissie’s holster. She pushed the left-hand pistol into Chrissie’s plump left breast, and pressed the right against her bedmate’s bosom. Both girls shifted sleepily, still shaking off their dreams. Their breasts heaved as they tried to rouse themselves. Jessika just smiled and squeezed both triggers. The gunshot blasts were muffled by firm flesh.
Chrissie and Michelle both jerked with an orgasmic grunt. They arched their spines in helpless agony. The bullets filled their bodies with a searing pressure wave that made them squirm before it spent itself. Their slender limbs kept twitching for a moment; and then the only movement was the slow spill of their blood.
Jessika kissed them both goodnight and clambered off the bed. Her hair was dripping from the rain, but the cleft between her thighs felt wetter still. Her crotch filled with a molten glow. She had to let it out. But not just yet, she told herself. The best is yet to cum.
Clenching her fingers round both guns, she turned and slipped back out into the night.
* * *
Louise’s suite of rooms were sparsely-furnished. A stab of lightning flickered on bare walls. But what décor there was exuded confidence and taste. Ethnic hangings; woven rugs; an ikon by the door ...
Jessika prowled forward through the dimness. The rooms were silent, echoing the low hiss of the rain. A wind chime tinkled faintly. There were cushions on the floor. She caught a whiff of oils and scented soap.
Flexing her fingers round her gun, she moved into the passage. The room ahead was bathed in candlelight. She heard a splash and titter through the doorway, and then Louise’s spoilt-schoolgirl voice.
“… don’t know why the boss has such an interest in that slut. You’d think all this was just a fucking game …”
“She’s out of touch,” said Claire. “Just like the rest of them up there.” She giggled at her own audacity. “Thank goodness we’ve got you to show some proper leadership!”
Jessika smiled thinly. What a sycophantic cow. She could see a heap of clothes inside the chamber. As she changed position, trying to get a better view, another flicker lit the night outside. It bounced around the bedroom, which stood open to her right. A glint of naked metal caught her eye.
“Mm … that’s it. Just there,” murmured Louise.
Jessika eased through into the bedroom. A sub-machine gun, newly-cleaned, was lying on the bed. She saw it was her PPSh, the weapon she’d been using in the Zone. Jessika’s smile widened. It was like being reunited with a friend. A rough and ready friend who wouldn’t stand for any crap. The big drum magazine was on the bedspread. Louise had clearly just reloaded it.
“More wine?” Claire enquired silkily.
Jessika picked up the gun and snapped the magazine into its slot. The background hiss of rain disguised the sound. She drew the bolt back carefully, till it locked with a dry click. The bathwater next door sloshed lazily. She hesitated, savouring the moment – then strode into the glowing candlelight.
The room was dominated by a splendid sunken bath, which was large enough to take a football team. The centuries-old building must have been a palace, once – and now Louise was playing the princess. Candles glimmered round the walls and floated on the water. The three girls in the chamber raised their eyes to hers in shock.
Louise was sitting back against the far end of the bath, the scented water lapping round her breasts. Her brown hair was tied up to bare her elegant swan neck, and a kneeling girl was massaging her shoulders. Claire sat in the water with a glass of wine half-raised, the remnants of a smirk still on her face. All three girls were nude and sleek with bath oil. Jessika smiled pleasantly at them.
The masseuse was a timid-looking girl, a tame Doll Soldier. She bit her lip, her eyes like chocolate drops. Claire gazed at the newcomer, her stunned expression almost scandalised. Her plump breasts started panting as she realised what was going to happen next.
“I just thought I’d drop by to scrub your backs,” said Jessika.
Claire began to snivel and the sub-machine gun blazed, its muzzle-flash an asterisk of flames. The water spattered upward, candles flipping through the air. Claire flailed backwards, squealing, then convulsed as bullets thwacked into her flesh. The hits appeared like bursting crimson bubbles on her chest. She clutched her breasts in agony and then flopped back. Louise cried out despite herself and cringed into the water, but the PPSh was climbing to the right. The bullets snapped above her head and riddled her masseuse. The Doll Soldier gasped throatily, her tender torso sprouting bloody holes. She went down on her back, legs folded neatly underneath her. The sub-machine gun clattered to a stop.
Louise’s pale blue eyes were wide. The milky water swirled around her shoulders. Maybe she was hoping that her soft breasts would be safe beneath the surface. A stain was darkening the bath, like a crimson storm cloud brewing round Claire’s corpse.
Jessika grinned back at her, the sub-machine gun braced against her hip. She teased the trigger mockingly – then drew her finger back. Crouching down, she laid the weapon on the marble floor. Louise watched numbly as she straightened up.
Jessika took the Sig-Sauer automatic from her pocket and tossed it to the far end of the bath. It clattered on the marble just beyond Louise’s reach. Jessika shrugged her jacket off and dropped it carelessly. Still dressed in her black underwear, she stepped into the bath.
Louise’s eyes had narrowed. She sat up a little straighter. Jessika slid down against the end wall of the bath. A hank of hair was trailing from beneath her forage cap. The water rose around her breasts and buoyed them in the confines of her bra.
Candles bobbed between them, lighting up the bloody water. The rushing rain intensified outside. Jessika stretched out her arms and draped them on the rim.
“By the way, Louise: I want your job.”
Louise stared at her hatefully – then lunged towards the pistol on the side. Jessika sat up and bent one arm behind herself. The lightweight Glock was tucked into the backstrap of her bra. She hauled it out and fired as Louise scrambled from the bath. The bullet hit the girl beneath her sculpted shoulder blade; she jerked with shock and slithered back again. Jessika sat watching as she splashed onto her rump, her breasts like melons on a shooting range. Then the pistol bucked and blazed to rupture the ripe fruit. Louise screamed and her head flipped back, her fingers clawing vainly at her tits. Her body writhed despairingly, and then her arms flailed upward, like a puppet trying to catch its severed strings. Sliding down, she slumped into the corner of the bath, a hurt expression on her lifeless face.
Jessika reached down into the water, and slipped her hand into her soaking briefs. Her cleft felt like the fissure of an undersea volcano. She teased it till it threatened to erupt, then left it glowing. The gunfire would bring other Guards. She didn’t want to be a sitting fuck.
She climbed out of the bloody bath, and used a towel to rub her body down. Boots were coming up the building’s stairwell at the run. As she pulled her jacket on again, they reached the door. “Spearhead Leader?” someone called. A flashlight swept the rooms. She heard them enter cautiously, and waited where she stood.
There were three of them, their shorts and tee-shirts clinging from the rain. Their hair was slicked back underneath their headsets. The lead girl had an M4 to her shoulder. She drew a bead on Jessika – then gave a little gasp and dropped her aim.
Jessika smiled back at them, enjoying their surprise. They’d seen the symbols Jaz had given her. The insignia of the Guard was now emblazoned on her cap, like a magic seal to make her bullet-proof. And on her left-hand collar patch, the cabbalistic characters of rank.
The first girl stiffened primly and saluted. “Pardon us … Spearhead Leader.” As she spoke, her eyes strayed to the corpses in the bath. Then back to Jessika. Her face stayed blank.
Jessika picked her sub-machine gun up and sauntered past them. The three girls shifted dumbly in her wake. “Come on, then,” she said over her shoulder. “There’s one more thing I need to do tonight.”
They followed her obediently, downstairs into the rain. The lead girl hurried to catch up. “Would you like to take my weapon, Spearhead Leader?”
Jessika glanced at the carbine. “How many rounds in it?”
“Thirty, Spearhead Leader.”
Jessika hefted her PPSh, one hand around the drum. “Seventy-one in here,” she said. “I think I’ll stick with this.”
They went into another building, tramping up the stairs. Even in this barrack-block, a nervous whisper seemed to race ahead. Jessika found the quarters she was looking for, and barged inside, not bothering to knock.
The main room was aglow with orange lamplight. A musky smell of incense filled the air. Rebekah sat cross-legged on a cushion, eyelids closed, her hands resting palm-upward on her knees.
Jessika stood in the doorway, savouring the sight. The girl was nude and utterly superb. Shapely breasts, lithe curves, a tidy tuft of pubic hair. A turquoise jewel glimmered in her navel. Then her brown eyes opened. They were darker than a deer’s. She stared at the intruder, frowning faintly.
“I’m your new Spearhead Leader,” Jessika said. “I need a lieutenant I can trust. Things are changing. Can I count on you?”
Rebekah eyed her silently, then glanced across the room. Her holstered pistol rested on a shelf. She got up smoothly, slender limbs uncoiling like a cat’s. Jessika watched her narrowly but didn’t bring her sub-machine gun up.
The dark-haired girl went over to her gun and drew it out. Jessika’s tongue flicked out over her lips. Then Rebekah turned and held the weapon out, butt-first. Jessika put her own gun down and took the proffered pistol. She weighed it in her hand, then nudged Rebekah’s breast with it. The girl’s ripe flesh stirred pliantly. She didn’t even blink. Jessika reached up to stroke Rebekah’s other breast with her free hand.
“That’ll be all,” she said over her shoulder, then dipped her head to kiss the Unit Leader’s willing mouth.
* * *
Susie sensed the dawn outside and drifted up from sleep. She could feel the fresh air on her skin, and damp straw underneath her. A glow still lingered in her loins. She reached down lazily to stroke herself.
Her eyelids fluttered open and a slight frown creased her brow. She stared up at the roof-beams of the loft. Where had her apartment gone? Had she slept too late for work? Then she realised where she was. A clammy shock engulfed her. She sat bolt upright with a gasp – and Wendy pressed a finger to her lips.
The impish girl looked serious now. Her hazel eyes were bright. Like Susie she was naked, but still wore her peasant cap. Her tousled hair was wisping from beneath it. “Shh,” she crooned. “Don’t worry ... It’s all right ...”
Susie stared at her in near-panic. Her mind was full of yesterdays again. The mundane details of her life, mixed up with what had happened to her here. She remembered watching TV, curled up snugly on the sofa. She tasted lube on Wendy’s fingertip.
“I guessed you were a girl I could get through to,” Wendy said.
Susie’s mind was reeling round her distant living room. There’d been somebody beside her on the couch. A rush of hot blood burned her cheeks. “Oh God … I’ve got a boyfriend,” she said faintly.
Wendy smiled indulgently. Her bare tits still looked good enough to eat. Susie stared with pleading eyes. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
“Fuck a girl just right and you can reconnect her memories again.” Wendy eased her down and sat astride her, the calming finger still on Susie’s mouth. Her glossy breasts filled out as she leaned forward. The rush of blood flowed back to Susie’s groin.
“Now we’ve both got dirty minds,” said Wendy quietly. ”No brainwash any more. We’re who we are. Everybody here’s been kidnapped, Susie. They’re training us to fight some kind of war. So do you want to mope about your boyfriend, or are you going to run for it with me?”
Susie peered up at her, still frightened and unsure. But then, as if despite herself, she licked the stickiness off Wendy’s finger.
Wendy grinned. “Good girl,” she breathed. “Now get your panties on. That girl who Debra captured was a dirty-mind as well. She might know others in the Zone. We have to rescue her.”