Posted by Extranjero on May 14, 2007 at 10:55:31:
This is actually Doll Soldiers 3. Or Rose Warriors 2. Or a story you can just read on its own.
STORM SISTERS (Part 1)
The girl on flank patrol had brought her snowcat to a standstill. She sat and watched the convoy lumber past. The valley was engulfed in white beneath the gloomy treeline. The sky above her looked as cold as steel.
She shifted on the seat and glanced upslope into the pines. The air was crisp and still. The forest slept. The lead snowcat went purring past, and then the growling Humvee. The half-track clattered in its wake. The trail-watch snowcat followed at a crawl.
The scouts had gone ahead. Their voices crackled though her headset. The girl adjusted it beneath the military watch-cap that she wore. Like all the snowcat riders, she was dressed in a black ski-suit and white parka. An MP5 was slung across her back.
She started off again, still keeping watch for any movement. The snowcat’s engine grated at the hush. She cruised the slope above the convoy, but the land was lifeless. They’d really hit the Foxes hard this time.
The half-track was an armoured truck that dated from the previous century. A training area relic, till the Field Brigades had requisitioned it. A battery of Brownings was still mounted in the back, the barrels pointing at the empty sky.
The Humvee was more modern, though it looked as beaten-up. It had a squat, aggressive bulk; the Guard divisions called it a Black Boar. The seal of the Commanders had been stencilled on its armour, but nothing else suggested that it was the captain’s jeep.
Zoey sat on the back seat and watched the landscape passing. The fan heaters were turned on full, but the snowy vista struck a chill in her. They’d torched the Foxes’ hideout and not taken any prisoners. But what she had uncovered was still gnawing at her gut.
She was a lean, good-looking girl with fair hair and blue eyes, but now her face was glum and apprehensive. Her parka was reversed to show its autumn-coloured lining, and she wore a yellow scarf and matching gloves. The coat hung open to reveal a T-shirt and tight leggings. The air was almost fuggy now. At last she was beginning to get warm.
“What’ll you put in your report?” Rebecca asked beside her.
Zoey turned her head towards her fresh-faced young lieutenant. Rebecca blinked at her through stylish glasses. She had soft brown eyes and short dark hair, and a cute, voluptuous body. Her coat did little to disguise her curves.
Zoey shrugged and glanced ahead. A glass partition screened them from the driver. “I don’t know yet,” she murmured with a touch of irritation. “Perhaps she was just raving, after all.”
Rebecca paused, then gently touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Boss. It’s been a shitty day.”
“Aren’t they all?” sighed Zoey, but her glance was fond enough. “You ran the operation well. I’ll make sure that it’s mentioned.”
Rebecca beamed and stroked the silky hair off Zoey’s cheek. The two girls shifted closer on the seat. Rebecca eyed the driver’s head. Her lips curved impishly. “So tell me, Captain: are you warm enough?”
Zoey smiled back coyly. “I could use a little help.”
The brunette snuggled up to her and opened her own parka. She’d undressed as the jeep grew hot, and was only wearing panties underneath. Zoey knew every inch of her lieutenant’s shapely body, but the big tits always took her breath away.
“How long is it back to base?” she asked with a dry mouth.
Rebecca gently squeezed her breasts. “Another hour, at least.”
“Eyes front, soldier,” Zoey breathed with a glance towards the driver. She kissed Rebecca thirstily as the convoy rumbled onward through the snow.
* * *
The French doors opened with a creak, and a wintry chill came flowing through the bedroom. Leilani flinched inside her fur and ventured out onto the balcony. She looked up at the leaden sky, then down into the courtyard. The cobblestones were caked with snow. Five troopers had lined up expectantly.
The girls wore the mottled winter coats that sometimes got them nicknamed Dapple-Greys. Their snug black pants were tucked into their boots. Their breaths went smoking skyward as they gossiped amiably and cradled MP5s against their chests.
A door scraped open somewhere and Leilani’s mouth went dry. The squad looked round, their chatter tailing off. The prisoner was led out into the grey light of the morning. Even now, she held her head up high.
She’d been stripped to her white thong for the occasion. Her bare flesh quivered as she felt the cold. Her hands were tied behind her back, which tautened her large breasts. The nipples hardened as Leilani watched.
But the girl’s face was defiant as her escort marched her over to the wall. If the snow scorched her bare feet, she didn’t show it. She tossed her mane of dark hair back, as feisty as a mare. Leilani felt uncomfortably aroused.
The prisoner was a fighter with the rebel Winter Foxes. Interrogation hadn’t broken her. Some of the girls had wanted to indulge their taste for torture, but Leilani had refused to sanction it.
The Fox had her back against the wall. She glared up at Leilani’s balcony. Then one of the guards pulled a white hood over her head. The girl’s breasts rose and swelled as she breathed in.
“Ready,” barked a sergeant as the escort scooted clear. The troopers brought the carbines to their shoulders. It used to be tradition that one gun held a blank bullet, so the shooters could absolve themselves of guilt. Such niceties weren’t needed in Leilani’s garrison. The firing squad had jumped to volunteer.
“Remember, ladies: single-shot,” the sergeant drawled. “We don’t want too much mess.”
Leilani hugged the mink coat closer, gnawing at her lip. The prisoner’s nipples were like rosy roundels. Bull’s-eyes in the carbine sights. She glimpsed the shapeless white hood sucking in.
The butch young sergeant licked her lips. “Take aim,” she snapped. Then: “Fire!”
The sharp crack of the carbines filled the courtyard, but Leilani heard the bullets hit the pair of heavy, 36C breasts. The prisoner’s body bucked with shock, then jerked in agony. Her hooded head flipped back as she convulsed.
For a moment the five bullet holes were too small to be seen, and then the blood came spurting from her tits. The rebel squirmed against the wall, then drooped like a dead flower. She bowed her head and slithered to the snow.
Leilani’s dark eyes didn’t blink. She’d seen and caused too many deaths herself. The rebel was a terrorist who had deserved her fate. But she’d rather kill a woman who shot back.
Turning, she went back inside and closed the doors behind her. She shrugged the fur off her bare shoulders, welcoming the stale heat of the room. Beneath, she was as nude as when she’d clambered out of bed. The cold had made her pert breasts perkier.
Leilani was half English, but her soul was Filipina. The southern sun was in her blood: she always felt more comfy with her clothes off. But her honeyed skin was paler now, its lustre starved of light. Her long hair and doe eyes seemed all the darker.
She padded over to the bed, where Lena lay curled up amid the sheets. The girl had long brown hair and an attractive Gypsy look. She stared up from her pillow with pale eyes. Lena had been a soldier with Leilani’s last command. She’d stuck with her leader to the end; the two of them had been through hell together. Now she was Leilani’s bodyguard in more than name. She reached out to embrace her lover’s flesh.
“I know it bothers you,” she said, and kissed Leilani’s breast. “But it’s orders, and you don’t have any choice.”
Leilani sighed and stroked her hair. “What are we doing here?” she murmured wryly.
Lena licked her cleavage and looked up with earnest eyes. “Would you rather they had put us in the Doll’s House?”
Which meant being killed and turned into a sex doll. Leilani shuddered primly, and then pushed her girlfriend back onto the bed. Perhaps they should regard themselves as lucky. Her last command had been wiped out, and somebody would have to bear the blame.
She’d helped defeat a renegade Commander. A part of her was certain that she knew too much to live. But the beings which she served were as inscrutable as sphinxes. Instead of having her snuffed out, they’d sent her to this godforsaken place.
Her breasts filled out as she leaned forward, brushing Lena’s own. She rubbed her crotch against her lover’s thigh. For a little while, at least, she could forget she’d been seconded to this dirty war amid the driven snow.
* * *
The Humvee’s windows had misted up by the time the convoy halted. Zoey was panting urgently, and took a while to register the change. Rebecca was still suckling her firm, large-nippled breasts. The mousy little minx was ravenous.
Both of them were naked now, though Zoey hadn’t got her scarf or gloves off. Rebecca’s fingers were inside her, and her snatch was coming to the boil. But then the silence dawned on her. She sensed the driver waiting. A sudden coyness coloured her pale cheeks. Reluctantly she squeezed Rebecca’s shoulders. “Hold on a minute … Why have we just stopped?”
Her lieutenant eased back, pausing to adjust her spectacles. She slid the fogged partition open. “What’s the hold-up, then?”
“Snow slip,” came the driver’s voice. “The trail’s blocked ahead.”
“Tell the girls to clear it, then,” said Zoey grumpily.
“I’ll do it,” said Rebecca. She put on her boots and bulky winter parka. Still naked underneath the coat, she clambered out into the murky daylight. The sudden draught stung Zoey’s nipples and she hugged herself.
A creamy drift had choked the narrow roadway. The snowcats of the ADVON unit waited next to it. Rebecca had a word with them, then trudged back to the half-track and told the girls inside it to dismount. The troopers moaned behind her back, but picked their shovels up. They all wore coats and caps of dapple-grey.
Rebecca scanned the landscape, then got back into the Humvee. She unfastened her parka. “Right – where were we?”
As she went back to pleasuring her captain, their unit started digging at the snow. Like all the Field Brigades, they’d been inured to frontline fighting, and had the look of hard-eyed working girls. The comforts of their past lives were forgotten; but sometimes girlish instinct overcame conditioning. They glanced towards the Humvee’s steamed-up windows and smirked at one another as they worked.
One girl scooped a snowball up and threw it a comrade. The victim gave a squeal and lobbed one back. “For God’s sake …” someone muttered primly. Other troopers started joining in.
“Girls, we’d like this snowdrift cleared tonight,” their sergeant said.
A snowball sailed above her head and struck a giggling trooper in the chest. It spattered with surprising force, and jarred the laughter from the shocked girl’s throat. The blobs of snow that sprayed from it were red as well as white. A crimson hole exploded in her coat.
The sergeant’s face grew bloodless. “What the fuck -?”
Then the snow erupted all around them. Figures clawed up through the crust like bodies sitting up in shallow graves. The guns they held began to blaze with snow still sloughing off them. The thick tubes of their silencers reduced the volley to a coughing fit.
The thud of bullets into flesh seemed loud amid the stillness. The troopers gasped and grunted as the automatic weapons raked their group. They clasped their breasts and bellies, pitching down into the snowdrift. The ambushers kept firing from their pits.
Holes were torn through winter coats and tight silk thermal tops. The girls who got a chance to plead, died squealing. They sprawled like angels in the snow, their camouflage blotched scarlet. The sergeant jerked as slugs ripped through her, bursting in a spray out of her back.
In the Humvee, Zoey had her eyes closed. She squirmed as Becky lapped between her legs. The stifled pops of gunfire seemed to blend into her rapture. But then she heard a muffled squawk and splat.
The squawk came from the driver, and the splat left their partition smeared with red. Zoey looked round breathlessly. The girl was lolling sideways in her seat. A sweaty chill engulfed her as the sounds outside grew clearer: the hiss of silenced weapons, and the anguished sobs of women being shot.
The girls on the snowcats had no chance. There were snipers on the slopes and in the treeline. One scout had unzipped her parka, reaching for her holster, when a stream of bullets carved into her chest. The black ski-suit was moulded to the outlines of her breasts, which quivered as the bullets punctured them. A matching line of crimson gouts erupted through her parka and she somersaulted backwards off her seat.
Zoey gave a panicked sob and shoved Rebecca off her. She glimpsed the sheen on her lieutenant’s lips. Becky looked bewildered, all doe eyes and disbelief. And then the door behind her was wrenched open.
Rebecca gasped and twisted round, while Zoey fumbled wildly for her gun. Time was slowing down, as if the girl outside was never going to fire. But then she saw the weapon’s bolt spring forward. The muzzle blazed into the jeep, and plunged things into real time again.
Rebecca juddered, grunting, as the burst tore through her belly. Her red lips widened in a silent scream. Zoey’s own scream reached her mouth, and then the bullets hit her, like steel incisors savaging her breasts. She bucked and flailed at Becky’s side, grimacing with dismay. Then her head flipped backwards and she flopped into a corner of the seat.
Her naked flesh stopped twitching as the trigger was released. Her tits began to bleed like a bouquet. Rebecca teetered lifelessly, then slumped against her captain. Her face slid down into the blonde girl’s lap.
Outside, the shooting petered out into sporadic pops. Bodies lay where they had crumpled, turning virgin snow to crimson slush. The ambushers came crawling from their foxholes, discarding empty clips as they got up. They were dressed in furs and winter coats, and each wore something scarlet – a muffler or a neckerchief that bound them to the rebels’ bloody cause.
They were athletic-looking girls with set, determined faces. Deserters from the training grounds, and dissidents who’d challenged global rule. They prowled among the bodies, but the troopers lay unmoving. The steam of dying breaths had died away.
A horse-drawn sleigh came gliding up behind the vehicles. The rebels turned to it expectantly. The thing was closed and curtained, and as sombre as a wooden-panelled hearse. Its antique lines contrasted with the armour of the convoy and the sub-machine guns of the ambushers.
The horse pulled up and snorted at the copper smell of blood. The scarfed-up driver huddled in her seat. Then a velvet glove twitched back the curtains. The door swung open with a creak. A cloaked and hooded figure clambered down.
The cloak was velvet too, and black. It covered the young woman to her calves. Wrapped up in it, she walked towards the Humvee. Her slim fur boots crunched softly through the snow.
The hood was lined with fur as well. The face it framed was luminously pretty. Blonde hair wisped across her forehead, just above her glittering green eyes. The corners of her full-lipped mouth quirked up in satisfaction. She let the cloak fall open carelessly.
Despite the cold, she only wore her underwear beneath it. A gossamer black bra and briefs, with silky stockings and a garter belt. Her slim, curvaceous figure was displayed to full advantage. The lingerie contrasted with the ragbag uniforms worn by her girls.
She opened the Humvee’s nearside door and Zoey fell out backwards. Her head and shoulders thumped against the snow. Her body angled up, her arse still resting on the doorframe. Rebecca was still face-down in her muff.
One of the killers sidled up to stand beside her leader. She looked the body over. “Now she won’t tell anyone.”
Still ogling the corpse, the blonde girl smiled angelically. “And soon there won’t be anyone to tell.”