Posted by Extranjero on June 14, 2007 at 12:52:33:
WAR WIDOWS (Part 8)
“I think it was Napoleon …” Anna murmured, “… who spoke about the iron fist inside the velvet glove.”
Laura made a squeaky sound in answer. She was breathing quickly through her open mouth. Anna’s small, hard fist was deeply sunk in her vagina, and every twist of it brought orgasm closer to the brink.
They were naked on the bed in Anna’s quarters, their eyes glazed and their bodies filmed with sweat. Laura’s breasts pulsated as she panted. Anna grazed them with her lips, then took one fat pink nipple in her mouth. The well-bred pilot whimpered like a puppy. Anna rocked against her. Her fist loosened, then clenched tight. Laura grimaced, clawing Anna’s shoulders as she felt her passion coming to the boil.
It was a lethal hand inside her body. One that had held a gun and knife, and directed tanks and soldiers in the field. The knowledge of its power made her giddy. Then Anna gave it one more twist, and Laura climaxed with a throaty cry.
Anna smiled against her breast, still nibbling at her nipple. Laura’s body bucked as the contractions spent themselves. They rolled together on the bed, then lay entwined and gasping. Anna freed her sticky hand and licked her fingers clean.
“I knew I could count on you,” she purred, “to tell us their location. She may have turned the others’ heads, but I knew she wouldn’t keep you satisfied.”
Laura smiled beatifically, still breathless. “She’s a saucy minx … but not as skilful as she thinks she is.” Her pussy still felt radiant with pleasure. She very gently touched herself, and wallowed in the glow.
Anna smiled at her in a superior sort of way. She loved to make her minions helpless, one way or another. Sliding off the bed, she padded over to the window. The night was dark above the bright lights of the Delta Base.
“Too bad you couldn’t stop the bitch escaping,” she said lightly. Laura’s smug look faded, and she stared at Anna’s bare back anxiously. Then Anna turned her head. Her smile was wry but still indulgent. “I’ll get another plane for you, and we can stamp the Widows out for good.”
Laura visibly relaxed. Her gaze moved to her leader’s peach-shaped butt. An arcane seal had been tattooed at the base of Anna’s spine. “Is that the mark of your division?” she asked.
“Third Guards – The Barbaria.” Anna peered over her shoulder. “The front-line troops, not glorified police like Sentinel. And nothing like Valkyrie. Fifth Division. Carrion birds.” She snorted and came back towards the bed.
Laura shifted up for her, still listening eagerly. She was conscious of how privileged she was. Most Doll Soldier units were just pieces on a chessboard, to be wielded and expended, not pampered and indulged.
Anna cupped her tender breast and stroked it. “First and Second,” she went on, “now they’re the real elite. Iron Maiden and Black Princess. They guard the Home Domain.” A proud smile played at her full lips. “They’ve got their eye on me. If this campaign succeeds, I could be chosen for their ranks.”
Laura’s dark eyes widened. “Can I come too, Brigade-Leader?”
Anna’s smile grew mischievous. “You might.” She rolled away. “But right now, you can kiss my bloody arse.” Crouching on all fours, she raised her buttocks tauntingly. Laura started kissing them, then licked her way to Anna’s wet pink sex.
* * *
Leilani rose through darkness and broke surface. The harbour water was opaque and slick. It had an oily gleam beneath the arc lights. Beyond the gantries of the base, the sky was still a twilight indigo.
She trod water and listened for a moment. An engine clattered in the distance. Music wafted from somewhere nearby. Probably a sentry post trying to relieve the boredom. Leilani smiled thinly to herself.
She was in the shadow of the quay, near a row of moored patrol boats. None of them was occupied as far as she could tell. She eased along the concrete wall till she caught sight of a ladder. Then she heard voices overhead, and sank down till her nostrils were awash.
The voices murmured casually together. Leilani hung suspended in the water’s warm embrace. A cigarette end fell towards her like a firefly. It floated, smouldered and went out. The voices faded as the guards moved on.
She used the anchor of the nearest boat to climb aboard and crouched down by the forward guns. The lightweight vessel shifted restively. She’d exchanged her skirt for a Rivermaid’s tight loincloth, but was sleekly naked otherwise. The Colt carbine was slung across her spine. Pushing back her soaking hair, she squinted through the dimness. Debra glided to the hull and clambered after her.
Leilani threw a fleeting glance upriver. The trees to the east were backlit with the promise of the moon. There was no time to waste. She climbed the rusting metal rungs and raised her head over the coaming at the top. There was no sign of the guards she’d heard, but a lamp shone on the walkway. She slithered through its pool of light and waited, crouching, in the gloom beyond.
Debra followed lithely, with two more Maids at her heels. The sound of the radio was closer now, its slow love song like syrup on the air. It was coming from a sandbagged post a dozen yards away. Leilani’s hand touched Debra’s arm. They both unsheathed their blades.
Quiet as cats, they closed with the emplacement. Through a veil of camouflage netting, they could see the dusky glimmer of a lamp. And the white tee-shirts of two unwary sentries. Leilani gripped her borrowed knife and felt anticipation squeeze her throat.
“Turn it up, I like this one,” said one girl gleefully.
Debra moved to stand beside the entrance, her dusky body blending with the gloom. Leilani glanced around, and saw a beer can nearby. She picked it up and let it drop. It clattered noisily.
“What was that?” one of the Watch girls muttered through the music. There was a pause, and then she came outside. She hadn’t put her beret on over her sandy hair. Leilani glimpsed firm breasts beneath the cropped tee-shirt she wore. Debra seized her as she passed, one hand clamping her mouth shut as she hacked her blade into the sentry’s side. The point ruptured a kidney and the girl convulsed in pain, a mewling sound escaping through the gag. Debra bent her backwards and stabbed down into her breasts. The white tee-shirt flowered darkly. The girl’s writhing grew spasmodic as she died.
“What was it, Beth?” the girl inside the post called carelessly. Leilani darted in and caught her leafing through a well-thumbed porno mag. Her freckled face came up, her blue eyes widened in the lamplight – and then she stiffened, whimpering, as Leilani’s knifepoint pricked her slender throat.
The magazine slipped from her hands, the centrefold unfurling. The guard had quite impressive breasts herself. Leilani put her fingers to her lips and gestured upward. The trembling girl began to rise. Then they both froze as they heard footsteps outside.
A third sentry was coming back from a walk around the sector. Her sneakers scuffed the concrete. She gave no sign of alarm. Debra waited, crouched over the first guard’s crumpled body. Then there was a whooshing sound and the dull thwack of an arrow piercing flesh. The Watch girl gave a plaintive grunt, clutching vainly at her bosom. The shaft protruded stiffly, driven deep into her chest. She twisted round and toppled with a whimper. The clatter of her falling rifle failed to stir the base.
The Maid who’d killed her fitted a fresh arrow to her bow. She and her sister kept a look out, waiting for the others to emerge.
Leilani grasped the neck of the guard’s tee-shirt. “A rebel pilot was brought in. Where is she now?” she hissed.
“The Brigade-Leader’s quarters,” squeaked the girl. “She wanted to interrogate her there.”
“And where’s that?”
“The main building … she’s got a balcony outside her room.” The girl stared back appealingly. Leilani felt a ripple of remorse. But then she said, “I’m sorry, love,” and quickly sliced her throat. The sentry gurgled, horrified, and clutched her severed windpipe. Blood squirted through her fingers as she fell aside and wriggled on the floor.
Leilani ducked back out before the girl had finished choking. The velvet night stayed undisturbed. The radio kept on playing its soft song. She and the Maids moved on around the harbour, flitting like moths between the pools of light. But the sky above the trees had grown translucent. When Leilani turned her head again, she saw the orange disc of the full moon.
It was rising almost as she watched, inflated and distorted by the jungle’s closeness and the atmosphere. Her heart began to thud a little faster. She led the way along the quay, and almost scurried straight into a guard. The Sea Watch girl was not expecting trouble. Her Sten gun was slung, uncocked, against her hip. Leilani kicked her hard in the bare midriff and she doubled forward with a guttural oouf. Leilani seized her, clamped her mouth over the winded sentry’s, then knifed her under the left breast and swallowed her hurt cry. The Watch girl squirmed against her, nipples budding through her tee-shirt. Leilani gave the blade a twist and tasted salty copper on her tongue.
The girl gave a sigh, stopped fighting and went limp in her embrace, but it took an effort to stop snogging her. Lowering the body, she wiped blood off her pursed lips, aware of Debra’s steady gaze. And then she heard the droning in the sky.
Leilani twisted round and saw the Catalina coming, like a giant vampire bat against the moon. As it banked over the base, they made the most of the distraction, darting through the shadows while the black plane circled and came round again. Leilani glimpsed the outline of a gun post up ahead. She scuttled up to crouch against its sandbagged bastion.
The cannons were rotating, trying to keep track of the aircraft. She heard the squeaking of the axis. “Who the hell …?” said someone overhead. A radio crackled fitfully. Another girl’s voice answered. “At ease, it’s only Becca’s plane. She’s had some engine trouble, apparently …”
The plane lost height, coming in across the darkened estuary. Leilani heard it throttling back, and saw the pale V-wash as it touched down. She nodded to the nearest Maid, who drew her bowstring back and made the softly mournful call of a night bird. One of the gunners came to peer over the parapet, and caught the close-range arrow right between her breasts. Her body flipped back with a grunt. The other archer loosed, her arrow skewering the loader through the throat. Debra cleared the parapet as lithely as a cat. A third Watch girl just gawked at her – then gurgled as her fishing spear thrust home.
The aircraft glided through into the harbour, its engines throbbing at low revs. Gemma eased it round towards the landing stage. Her heart was pounding in her breast, but she felt a sick excitement. Behind the bright lights of the base, the buildings loomed up dark and ominous.
She’d coaxed two Rivermaids aboard to work the plane’s machine guns. Sara was in the nose turret, and a girl called Hazell waited in the waist. Gemma wondered if the night flight had elated them, or simply left them petrified as they crouched behind the unfamiliar guns.
On the quay, the archers drew fresh arrows from their quivers. Then a girl’s voice, high and nervous, challenged, “Who goes there?” It was a sentry on her way to gossip with the gun crew. As the Rivermaids swung round, she opened fire with her Sten. The nearest Maid jerked back, her bosom spurting. The second archer loosed snap-shot towards the white tee-shirt. The arrow pierced the cotton Lycra and the breast beneath. The sentry whinnied woefully, still firing as she twisted and collapsed.
The time for stealth was done. Leilani unslung her Commando and loped forward like a she-wolf. More guards ran into her path. She shot them down like ninepins, glimpsing wounds erupt like roses on their snowy tee-shirts as they spun away. The sound of gunfire rattled off the buildings. Then an alarm began to bray, and adrenaline went sizzling through her veins.
Anna and Laura were still exchanging smug post-coital kisses when the shooting started and the sirens went. Anna swore and scrambled up, switching seamlessly to combat mode again. Not caring she was naked, she strode over to the door. “What’s happening?” she asked the guard outside. “Rebel raid,” the answer came. Anna’s eyes grew wide with outrage. She quickly pulled her shorts and boots on. Laura, still nude, watched uncertainly.
“Get dressed,” Anna told her shortly, buckling her gun belt. “Poppy will take you to the bunker while I deal with this.”
Outside, Leilani scurried through the shadows. A patrol truck veered towards her and she fired a burst at it. The windscreen shattered and the driver jiggled in her seat, then slumped over the steering wheel as the hulking Blazer slewed out of control. Leilani rolled, ejected her spent clip and flipped it over. A fresh magazine was fitted to the first. She slapped it home.
Gemma glimpsed the muzzle flashes on the quayside, and heard the sirens through the engine beat. “Okay girls,” she said over the radio. “Let’s give them something else to think about.”
The Rivermaids had been quick to learn the workings of the turrets. Sara, in the nose, swung her machine gun and let rip. The recoil jolted her: it was both fearful and exciting. The weapon, and her headset, both contrasted with her near-nudity. The muzzle of the Browning flickered like a dragon’s breath. The bullets raked the nearest quay and snuffed white tee-shirts out like candle flames.
Hazell, in the starboard blister, wavered for a moment: a heavy-breasted teenager with thick brown hair and eyes like a gazelle’s. Then, as the Catalina turned, she saw the moored patrol boats – a scourge along the river. Anger tightened her sweet face. She triggered the twin Vickers and her breasts shook with the recoil. One of the boats exploded and an oily fireball rose into the night. Girls from the Nymph Unit were trying to board another, still wearing their black swimsuits. Hazell sprayed them with hot heat. The svelte commandos jerked and writhed as the plane went cruising past them, then pitched into the water to float lifeless in its wake.
“Becca!” someone shouted. “What’s she doing, the mad bitch?” Leilani glanced towards the harbour, where the black Cat turned about itself. It was spitting tracer rounds in all directions. Another boat was riddled and capsized as it cast off.
She waited in the shadow of a lean-to, watching the main building as its occupants ran out in disarray. She let them pass, but Debra and the archer picked off stragglers. A girl with glasses scurried past, like a mousy secretary in uniform. Debra pounced and cut her throat, spilling blood down her tight tee-shirt. The secretary squirmed in vain, going limp as she was dragged out of the light.
Two more people came out of the building after her. The first wasn’t a Sea Watch girl. She wore Command Guard black. The second girl was Laura, in her bra and long, slit skirt. The Guard was squeezing her left arm and pulling her along.
Leilani gestured to the archer, and the bowstring thrummed. The arrow pierced the Guard’s black crop-top just above her breast. The russet-headed girl reared back and clutched herself in anguish, then pirouetted and collapsed, leaving Laura standing open-mouthed with shock.
Leilani darted forward and the pilot saw her coming. She cowered back, her haughty face a picture of dismay. Leilani guessed she couldn’t quite believe that this was happening – or maybe she was mortified that someone else had come to rescue her. Seizing hold of Laura’s hand, she ran towards the quayside. The posh girl stumbled after her. “But what the hell are you doing here …?” she gasped.
“Thank Gemma,” snapped Leilani. Bullets zipped and flickered past them. The Catalina churned the water as it swung around like a caged beast. A Sea Watch girl got in their way and Leilani fired one-handed, jack-knifing her around the burst. The corpse flopped in their wake. She veered towards the gun post they had silenced earlier. Debra was breathing down her neck, and the archer-Maid was covering their backs.
In the lee of the piled sandbags, she let go of Laura’s hand and grasped the metal canister which was dangling at her waist. It was a distress flare from the Catalina. She pulled the pin and lobbed it clear. The can erupted, spewing out pink fog. The plane was slewing round again; it must see the smoky signal. Leilani gave Laura a shove. “Dive in and swim for it!”
Laura hesitated, and then leapt into the harbour. Leilani checked behind herself, her carbine braced to fire. “You next,” said Debra quietly. Leilani looked at her. The small girl’s face was very calm, surrounded by its tangle of damp hair. Leilani’s racing heartbeat skipped, but there wasn’t time to argue. She reached out to touch Debra’s cheek, then slung her Colt and plunged into the dark.
The cloud of flare-lit smoke was drawing guards from all directions. The archer loosed a shaft at one, and caught a burst of bullets in reply. Grimacing, she doubled up around her ruptured stomach. Debra threw her spear aside and climbed over the sandbagged parapet. She rotated the twin cannons and let fly into the fog, the muzzle-flashes lighting up the cloud like a small storm. Two streams of 20mm shells went tearing through the base. A parked patrol truck shattered; flame boiled up into the night. The guards scattered in panic. One girl’s head was blown clean off. Her melon-breasted torso stayed bolt upright for a moment, then toppled like a mannequin in a department store.
“Take those guns out now!” bawled Anna, ducking as a shell when whooshing past. Still topless, she had snatched an M16 up. The Watch girls scuttled forward as the flak cannons cut out.
Debra threw a glance over her shoulder. The plane was almost at a standstill, ready to pick up the escapees. Fitful shots rang out, and plumes of spray showed in the dimness. She turned towards the base again and let the cannons pound.
Anna flinched into a crouch, but shot back from the shoulder. “Rapid fire!” she called, and half a dozen Stens joined in. Bullets thumped the parapet and clanged against the gun shield. Debra cringed and clenched her teeth and kept on firing. Then she gasped with shock as something bit into her bosom. She pulled a face and clutched herself. More impacts jolted her. Blood splashed and sizzled on the cannons’ metal. Then Debra slumped across them and silent guns rotated aimlessly.
The echoes of her final barrage rang across the harbour and blended with the sea-plane’s rising snarl. The Catalina picked up speed, water foaming from its prow as it skimmed out into the estuary while tracer fire trailed after it like ropes. Anna reached the waterfront and joined in with her rifle. But the plane had already lifted off, its black shape merging with the moonlit night.