0 comments/  9499 views/  2 favorites

Guerillas

By: PulpWyatt



The three other fighters and I crouched on the top of a low apartment building, overlooking the town square. Yesterday, a statue of Olga the Invincible had stood there. She was a hero of this country; she unified the kingdom of Ucieczka at the dawn of the feudal age, saving it from centuries of discord and bloodshed. Now, her statue was destroyed; even the rubble was gone.

In the middle of the town square, where that noble knightess once stood, there was now a ramshackle military tent painted in arctic camouflage, as though they expected to go unnoticed. A few men in heavy furs and thin armor vests patrolled the tent. Their job was to spot people like us, and yet none of them thought to look up.

These invaders were from Gorszka. They had violated our borders eighteen months ago, and now the war had come to our town.

My name is Hajnalka, and I led our four-woman clique. We were not affiliated with the Ucieczkan Army or the resistance movement, but we made trouble for the Gorszkan invaders all the same.

To my right, I saw Elena. At twenty-nine years old, she was the oldest of our group, and the only one old enough to join the army. Before the Gorszkans came to our town, she had considered enlisting, but never did. Now, the choice of whether or not to fight had been made for her. Her eyes were calm and steady, and her mouth rested in a serene smile. To look at her, you'd never guess there was a war going on.

To my left was František, or Fran. Among my group, it was an open secret that Fran was male. In these desperate times, even our men needed to fight. When Fran first asked to join us, I had balked, but the patriarchic Gorszkans had demonstrated the viability of male soldiers, and, besides, we needed all of the help we could get.

Fran was a very guarded man. He wore a fur hat that concealed his mannishly short hair, and a tight scarf covered his mouth. All that could be seen of his face was his small nose and his sad, unblinking blue eyes.

Past him, on the extreme left, was Karela. Her hands curled into fists, her nostrils flared, and, even though her lips were pursed, I could tell that her teeth were gritted. Underneath a pilfered steel helmet, her eyes seared hatred down on the Gorszkans. 

It this part of the country, it was just the four of us against the whole Gorszkan army. So far, we had been doing as well as could be expected.

"Fran," I asked, "do you see anything?"

Fran gave me a sidelong glance with one eyebrow raised- the ocular equivalent of a shrug.

"Don't you have the binoculars?" I said.

His eyebrows jumped, and Fran dug a set of binoculars from a pocket and pressed to his eyes. For a full minute, he lay as still as a statue. Then he lowered them.

"Those are not assault rifles," he mumbled. "Those are shotguns."

"What?" I gasped. "Those soldiers have shotguns? Why?"

"Maybe the bastards are getting desperate," said Karela.

"Maybe they don't anticipate being attacked with guns," mused Elena. "Shotguns would be the best choice against pickaxes and such."

"Well," I said, "if that's true, they're right. We've got three Molotov cocktails, and that's it, except for the blades. If we want to take them down, we're going to need to wait for better equipment."

"What?" snarled Karela. "We're just going to let them piss on Olga's grave like that?"

"Not for long," I promised. "Don't worry, Karela, you'll get your revenge. Just not now. Come on- let's head back to the camp."

With that, we scooted back from the edge, then stood up one by one and headed for the fire escape ladder.

"I'm sick of waiting," grumbled Karela. "I'm so fucking sick of waiting."

"We all are," I said.

"Yeah, not as sick as I am."

At that, I silenced. From experience, I knew that letting Karela have the last word was the only way to get her to stop complaining.

* * *

For a few minutes, we shuffled through the taiga forests that surround our town, until we arrived at our new home away from home. A little hovel sat nestled between two hills, covered in dirt, frost and leaves. It was an excellent place to hide. But as a place to live, it was less impressive.

The other guerillas and I ducked in, then sat down in the dry, spacious depression that was the hovel's floor. I sat in our only chair, leaning over the ramshackle wooden table. Karela, who had mostly cooled off, snuggled into one of our four cots in the back of the hovel, and Elena and Fran crouched by the entrance.

Someone clicked the incandescent light bulb to life, bathing the hovel in orange.

For one moment, we all settled in. Then, by the unspoken custom of our group, I was supposed to dictate our next move.

"If the Gorszkans are here," I said, "then it should only be a matter of time until they start running wide patrols. We should start doing patrols of our own. Unless they've the changed the way they do things- and I don't see why they would- they'll be using tanks, so we'll hear them coming before they see us. I don't know where or when we should do this, so... just patrol wherever you think is best. We'll do it in shifts.

There was a brief silence. Elena and Karela exchanged perplexed looks, and I prepared to clarify my idea. Before I could start, Fran suddenly stood up.

"I'll go first," he volunteered. "I know where to go. See you in six hours."

On that, he turned and crawled out of the foxhole. For a few seconds, we could hear his feet crackling on the icy greenery. Then he faded to silence.

For a few seconds, we sat like stone statues.

"Good old Fran," said Elena.

All at once, we fell to our pleasure activities. Elena drew out an old newspaper and disappeared into it, and Karela cracked open a dusty old pulp fiction magazine.

I picked up an old letter and read it for the seventeenth time. It was several months old, but it was the last I had heard of my boyfriend. He had been drafted into the rearguard, so his chances of survival were good, and, being male, he was of course given a non-combat role. Still, I missed him, and, since his assignment, I had had to entertain myself.

"I'll be back," I mumbled.

At that, I stood up and swiped a file from the table.

That file contained two photographs. Both of them were of the same man tying and dominating a nude woman. I had taken these pictures from a dead Gorszkan soldier some time earlier in the war, before we moved away from the front. Male domination was not popular here in Ucieczka, but the Gorszkans could not seem to get enough of it. I did not like dominant men, but I did like men; without my boyfriend, this would have to do.

Above the foxhole entrance and behind it, I hunkered down and knelt with my legs apart. After pulling off my right glove, I held up the better of the two pictures and stared at the man. I began to stroke my hungry womanhood, feeling warmth and excitement radiate from it as my fingers did what they could to satisfy its desire.

All at once, the war faded away. In its place, there was only the man in this picture. With each shift of my fingers and each sizzling wave of pleasure, I imagined what it would be like to have him all to myself. I imagined him standing across the room from me, calm and confident, a paragon of masculine equanimity. I imagined stepping up to him and pulling him gently to his knees, then pulling off his shirt and running my hands up and down that beautiful body. I imagined wrapping myself around him, taking in every inch of his delectable flesh until, finally, I pulled down his pants, revealing that smooth, clean, hard-

"Hajnalka!"

I jumped, then hastily pulled my hand out, feeling one last ecstatic pulse as my blunt fingers rubbed against my sensitive walls.

"Hajnalka!" repeated the voice.

Standing up, I turned around, seeing Fran dashing towards me in that low, short-strided sprint of his. His voice was full of panic, but his brow furrowed with unbreakable focus.

"Fran?" I recoiled. "What is it? What happened?"

"I found a tank," said Fran. "Unguarded. They might be lost. We should attack."

I stared blankly back at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to continue, but he had nothing more to say.

"Elena!" I called. "Karela! Get the weapons out!"

Just seconds later, the two women ran from the foxhole. Karela carried two of the Molotov cocktails, and Elena carried an old hacksaw.

"Where is it?" Karela demanded. "Where are they? Where are they?"

"It's okay," I said, "we're not under attack. But there's a tank out there and I'm told it's a sitting duck."

"Yeah, let's fry that bastard!" growled Karela.

"Bring 'em on," grinned Elena.

Nodding, I turned and said, "Lead the way, Fran."

For just an instant, Fran failed to register a reaction, then he whipped around and sprinted off, followed quickly by the three of us.

After about a minute of running, we heard the rumble of a heavy diesel engine and the grinding of tread plates. Fran lowered his posture and marginally lowered his speed, and the rest of us imitated him. Finally, Fran stumbled to a stop at a ridge.

"Up here," he said.

Peeking up, I saw the grim, angular form of the blotchy white metal behemoth that is a Gorszkan tank. Then I ducked back down.

"You were, right, Fran," I said. "No infantrymen. What were they thinking?"

"How do we attack?" he asked.

"Elena, you distract them. Then I'll hit them with the Molotov cocktail. When the tank blows, the rest of the crew should be on the ground and..."

I hesitated.

"...against my better judgment, I say Karela should get the hacksaw. Oh, and I'm in the mood again, so if we capture a man alive, and he's cute, I want to have sex with him. Got it?"

No one batted an eye. In Ucieczka, female sexual dominance was the rule, and my desire was merely that custom's logical conclusion.

"Good," I said. "Fran, you're good with your fists, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Karela, give light me a cocktail and take the saw. Elena, go for it."

In an instant, Karela handed me a lit cocktail. With an adventurous grin and a nod, Elena stalked around in front of the tank, which unconfidently stuttered through the forestry. A moment later, she stood up and, in her true fashion, flashed them a two-fingered salute.

I waited a third of a second, then stood up, wound up and hurled the Molotov cocktail. With an understated puff, the bottle shattered, and the entire top half of the tank lit up with orange.

Instantly, the tank ground to a halt. I heard male voices screaming in Gorszkan for a few seconds as the flames atop the tank shifted. The hatch slammed open, and a skinny man in a rough, ragged uniform vaulted out.

A second later, there was a blinding flash and a heart-stopping thump as the tank's shells exploded, sending a fireball roaring up from the tank's interior. When the flare died down, the tank was a burning husk, and the one surviving crewman lay in the snow, gathering himself. Stumbling to his feet, he started to lurch drunkenly out of the clearing.

"Oh no you don't," snarled Karela. "Come here, you bastard..."

Karela seized the man by the back of his collar and brought him back to the ground, then pounded her foot onto his stomach and brandished the hacksaw.

Frustration is the spice that makes every grievance worse. And now, every part of Karela burned with frustration. Her knuckles stung from punching the wall of our hovel, her teeth throbbed from gnashing together, and her throat was sore from howling and raging. But most of all, her heart ached for her husband, who had been gunned down by the Gorszkans months ago.

But her heart wasn't the only thing that ached for him. She knelt on the tanker and started tearing at his clothes, and I knew what she wanted to do.

Before the tanker could react, she tore away his pants and grabbed his masculinity.

The man kicked and fought, but he lacked the brute strength to stop Karela now. She held him down by the neck with one hand and stroked him with the other. Slowly, his resistance died down, and his grunts got softer and airier. A blush bloomed on his face.

Sure enough, he was stiffening. Karela registered just a hint of an evil smile, then slid down her own pants and set upon him.

The man convulsed and grunted, raking the snowy mud with his fingers, overwhelmed by Karela's angry, lustful energy. Karela herself was hardly in better shape. Her face was red, her teeth were gritted, and she growled with each pound, slamming onto the man with merciless force.

"Wow," said Elena. "That can't be comfortable. For either of them, I mean."

"Should we stop her?" asked Fran.

"No," I said. "Look at her. She had to blow off all of this steam at some point. Better on him than on you."

Fran nodded stiffly.

Karela's assault continued. Pent-up animalistic fury unleashed itself through her femininity, until, at last, her mouth opened and she started to moan. Then her moaning turned into a wail, then a scream, and she climaxed, nearly crushing her helpless male as she gripped him.

For one moment, she relaxed, breath hissing through her teeth, and her victim went limp.

Then she started up again.

Once again, the man shook and moaned, at the mercy of her feminine desire and rage. Once again, she snarled and hunched over him. Just as Karela looked to be softening for another orgasm, the man tightened up and huffed his unwanted pleasure. Karela lowered herself to him and let out a long, ragged sigh as she felt him flood her gates until, finally, she reached down with her right hand and stroked herself to finish. For a second time, she gushed and screeched with primal vindication.

"Oh, yeah..." Karela panted. "Oh, I needed that. Oh, yeah, I fucking needed that."

For three long seconds, Karela stood still, watching the man pant underneath her. Then, finally, she disengaged, leaving the used man on the ground.

"Alright, Hajnalka," she said. "Your turn."

The man started, his pretty face slack with horror.

"Not now," I said, "Let's get him back home."

Gradually, I walked up to the terrified man and took his shaking hand, then helped him to his feet.

"No restraints?" Fran doubted.

"Look at him," I said. "He's subdued. He's not going to try anything, and if he does, he won't get anywhere."

"Also, Karela will get pregnant," said Fran.

"No I won't," said Karela. "Birth control."

"Here? How?"

"I found some pills last week. Jackpot."

Fran's only response was an understated shake of his head.

Back at the foxhole, I sat the prisoner gently down and knelt in front of him. As the light clicked on, I could see his panic-worn visage in the shadowy, stark glow of the light bulb.

Here, it struck me how similar he looked to us. His face structure and skin tone were largely the same, and even his uniform was only so different from our own garb. Beyond that, his eyes bore that look of hollowed-out exhaustion we all wore to some extent. This man had not said a word, and I could already tell that he lived in the moment, lacking both the stomach to look to the past and the heart to look to the future. He came from the other side, but he was, in an important sense, one of us.

"Do you speak Ucieczkan?" I asked him matter-of-factly.

He looked up nervously, as though putting together a lie. Then he looked to Karela and twitched nervously.

"Yes," he quipped, in only a subtle Gorszkan accent.

"Good," I said. "Now tell us what your superiors are planning."

"Rumor mill had it that they were attacking Snefolk next. But how would I know? They treat us like mushrooms. They keep us in the dark and feed us shit."

Fran gave a little huff, and a cloud puffed out through his face mask. I had never seen him laugh before.

"So that's why you're willing to tell us these things?" I surmised.

"No," he said. "The reason is that I don't want her to have me again. You Ucieczkan women are dangerous."

I shrugged sheepishly, having no rebuttal to that.

"Just get some rest," I advised him.

"Hajnalka, this is stupid," Karela cut in. "He's just going to betray us again."

"Yeah..." said Elena. "I hate to say this, but... shouldn't we at least be a bit more cautious around him?"

"You trap more bees with honey than vinegar," I pointed out, getting up. "Incidentally, what's your name, boy?"

"Lesnitsky," said the prisoner. "My name is Lesnitsky."

"Alright. I'm Hajnalka, and I want to have a talk with you in private. Fran, you did a good job. Now continue your patrol and come back when your shift is up. The rest of you know what to do."

With that, I led Lesnitsky out of the foxhole and into the safely anonymous wilderness behind it. The air, as chilly as ever, wisped with a soft wind, and the sun was melting into the western horizon.

"Now you want sex?" said Lesnitsky, bluntly.

I let out a little chuckle. His face fell.

"No," I said, "not yet. Not after what you've just been through."

"Then why are we alone?"

"Why? Well, I wanted to apologize on behalf of Karela- she's one who raped you- and I didn't want her around to chime in."

"Nor do I."

"She's not a monster. She's just... messed-up. She was always a bit strange until she met a boy named Jaroslav. He was the best thing that ever happened to her. He was patient, he was understanding, and he could read Karela like a book. With him around, she wasn't just stable- she was happy. Those two never got tired of each other."

"Then he died?"

"Then he died. She got over the shock quickly, but I don't know if she'll ever get over the anger."

"I'm sorry. But I don't know what you expect me to do about it."

"She's in bad shape. She needs a shoulder to cry on, but she's too proud to let it be another woman."

"I don't like where this is heading..."

"You can do that. You can help her out."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because we all live in the same tiny foxhole. If we don't get along, it's bad for everyone. Especially you."

Lesnitsky sighed and hung his head for a moment, then mumbled, "Fine. I'll do what I can."

"Alright," I said. "And... one more thing."

Stopping, I gently grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face me.

"What?" he gasped. "No, not yet, please... I can't-"

"Relax," I told him. "I know you're not ready yet. But I'm lonely too. I just want a kiss."

Hearing this, he calmed down and put up no resistance as I brought him up to me and pressed my lips to his, feeling his warm face over my weathered skin. As my tongue explored him, my hands inevitably wandered down his body, feeling his smooth back and squeezing his invitingly soft butt cheeks.

As I did, I could sense him getting uncomfortable. Removing my hands, I pulled away and ran my hand through his short, fine hair.

"Thanks," I told him. "I needed that."

He gave me a nervous smile.

"Come on," I said. "Let's get back."

My warmth dissipated as I turned and let him back to foxhole. For a while, all I could hear was two pairs of boots crunching on frosted leaves.

"By the way," I added, "I don't believe I ever said thank you. I know it must be awkward being there for a woman. I know in Gorszka, it's usually the other way around, b-"

"It isn't."

I stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

"We don't let women vote in Gorszka," he said, "but that doesn't mean we don't understand them. I know how it feels to have your home taken away from you-"

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. Do you think I asked to fight in this damn war? No, I'm a conscript. Now stop interrupting me. As I was saying, when a woman is hurting, there are certain things she needs. And when a woman asks for sex, a proper Gorszkan does not refuse her." 

"And you're a proper Gorszkan?"

"I was getting to that; I am, but that Karela is different. If I let her have me, she'll kill me."

"Please, Lesnitsky, she needs it. And she won't kill you. She'll lighten up on everyone if she just gets to have some fun now and again."


Guerillas



"She can have her fun when she lightens up on me."

I had no answer to this.

When we slipped back into the foxhole, we found the other two women as we had left them. Karela looked up and leered at Lesnitsky for just a moment, then returned to her reading. Elena gave him a curt little wave, then did likewise.

"Now that we're all here," said Lesnitsky, suddenly sounding official, "there's some intel you all should know."

"Intel?" repeated Elena. "Intelligence? Information?"

"Correct. High command is sending a supply convoy this way, and they asked us if we could trust that there would be no threat to them here. I'm almost certain our commander said yes. When my tank crew fails to come back, he'll change his mind, but he won't bother updating the brass until the next scheduled check-in. If we kill him before that, command will never know, and they'll send a whole convoy to its doom here."

My eyebrows rose. Elena leaned back, considering this.

"You can't possibly be buying this," growled Karela.

"Why would I lie to you?" said Lesnitsky. "Your country's government has done nothing to me. I cannot say as much for Gorszka."

I looked to Karela, expecting her to react with suspicion. Instead, she nodded with suddenly calm approval.

"Are you three listening?" asked Lesnitsky. "The next check-in is tomorrow night. We need to do this quickly."

"But with what?" I protested. "We don't have any weapons. That Molotov cocktail we threw at your tank was pretty much the last of our arsenal."

"You won't need an arsenal," said Lesnitsky. "You're women. The commander has a weakness for women."

"Are you suggesting that we seduce him?" I asked.

"That's right. Unless you look threatening, the guards won't shoot you on sight. The commander can speak Ucieczkan. Just say you want to 'thank' your new rulers, and he'll play along."

"Then we stab him?" I finished.

"Then you stab him."

"Well... that could work. But I should go alone. And I'll go tomorrow morning."

"Why you?" asked Lesnitsky.

"Who else? Besides, I'm still horny."

"Whatever works best," Lesnitksy shrugged. "Now, I'm getting some sleep."

"Where?" asked Elena.

"That's right," I said, "we only have four beds. You'll have to sleep with one of us."

Lesnitsky looked around, clearly considering his options. I gave Karela a light nudge.

"Lesnitsky?" she started.

Lesnitsky looked. There was a pause as Karela very carefully selected her words.

"Will you sleep with me?" she said.

Lesnitsky's eyes widened, and he shifted his weight anxiously, looking at the ground.

"Please?" she added.

I smiled.

"Okay," said Lesnitsky. "Yes. Yes I will."

As I watched, grinning warmly, Karela lay down in her cot, then held up the blanket, inviting him in. Carefully, Lesnitsky knelt in front of the bed and slithered into Karela's arms. The covers came down, and they shuffled about for a second. Then, Karela's hand very gently grabbed Lesnitsky's head and guided him to her mouth. The male put up no resistance as she kissed him, softly and lengthily. I saw blush bloom on both of their faces.

"That's it, Karela," I whispered, as I fell asleep in my own cot. "That's how you do it."

* * *

As I slept, my dreams were soft, hot and wet. I felt warmth welling up inside me, then the touch of someone's fingers one my skin.

"Hajnalka?" said a voice. "Hajnalka, it's time."

I opened my eyes. It was Elena.

I blinked for what had to have been ten seconds, then finally remembered today's mission.

With a moan, I pulled my hand away from my pussy, where it had somehow found its way, then slumped out of my bed. Looking to my side, I saw Karela and Lesnitsky sitting up together.

"Okay..." I said, "I'm off to town, I guess."

"Good luck, Hajnalka," said Elena.

"Thanks."

As the rest of the crew wished me well, I grabbed a shank from our table, then tromped out of the foxhole and made for town.

At this time of year in Ucieczka, I usually needed two layers just to keep warm. This time, being too cold was the least of my worries. Pulling off my jacket, I tied it by the sleeves around my waist, then zipped my shirt down. Then I got an idea.

With a naughty smile, I knelt down in the open, reached back and unhooked my bra. After pulling it out, I undid my belt and pulled my pants down. For one moment, I stopped, feeling my salivating vagina. I let out an involuntary moan as the mere pressure drew a wave of pleasure across my sex.

"I'm so ready..." I huffed. "God, I'm so ready."

Before I could weaken and masturbate, I pulled off my panties and slipped my pants back up. I shivered as my wetness contacted the pants' rough inner seams.

Discarding my underclothes, I stood up and continued on my way, moaning with every step. I felt my juices start to drip as the seam's abrasion drew more and more fluid from my burning sex.

"Come on, Hajnalka," I breathed. "Town's not much farther. You can do it."

Huffing and sweating, I stumbled into town, making my way to the town square. The minute I caught sight of the Gorszkan tent, I heard a shout in the invaders' tongue.

"Hello?" I mewled.

Twenty yards ahead, a Gorszkan guard stepped in front of me and trained his gun on me, and my heart stopped. The next moment, a second guard appeared and gently lowered the first one's gun.

"Hello?" I interjected. "Can any of you speak Ucieczkan?"

The guards traded looks, then one of them sprinted off. A minute later, he came back with another colleague in tow.

"Hello?" I tried again. "Can you understand me, sir?"

"Who are you?" he asked, in Ucieczkan.

For just one moment, I silently celebrated.

"I'm lost," I said, sounding as innocent as possible. "The Gorszkans saved me a little while ago, and the other Ucieczkans beat me up and called me a traitor. So I came here to thank your commander for freeing me."

The bilingual guard quipped something in his own language, then said, "Come with me, girl. The commander will be happy to see you."

Just like that, they took the bait. With a sweep of his hand, the guard motioned me into the tent, and I fearlessly entered. Inside, I found a deceptively roomy structure with a little fire in the middle, crackling contentedly away. Around it, the floor was dirt; all the asphalt must have been torn up.

On the far side of the fire, a man sat in a fancy chair, facing away from me. With deliberate slowness, he stood up and turned.

As soon as he did, the fire between my legs became a blaze. He looked perfect. His face was smooth and well-proportioned, with confident, knowing features accented by the firelight. His gentle eyes were shaded by clean, medium-length black hair. His figure was tall and broad, but not heavy, and his arms stayed clasped smartly behind his back.

"Hello, sir," I tentatively greeted. "I have a lot to thank you for, and..."

I looked over both shoulders.

"... can I do it in private?"

With knowing smile, the commander barked an order to his crew outside, then zipped the front door shut.

As I watched, moistening by the second, he grabbed a mattress from the shadows and pulled it up next to the fire.

"So..." he purred, in a smooth, deep voice, "You want to have some fun?"

"I'd love to, sir!"

"On your knees."

I hesitated for a moment. I did not want to submit to this man, but I did not want to turn him down, either. Just as I thought this, I saw a shelf on the far side of the tent, lined with photographs. Squinting, I saw that each one showed a woman, bound and helpless, staring up at the camera with some combination of ecstasy and supplication.

"What are you waiting for?" the commander nudged.

I had no more time to think. Getting down on my knees, I perched in front of him for a moment, then reached up for his pants just as he unzipped them.

Out came a smooth, thick, beautifully rounded cock, almost at full hardness. Just as I brought up my hands to stroke it, he grabbed the base with one hand and placed the other on the back of my head. Knowing what he had in mind, I opened my mouth, then closed my lips as he pushed into me.

He pumped my head across his shaft with smooth firmness dusted by just a hint of eager energy, and I let my tongue and lips play with his treasure. I could feel it harden against my tongue.

Then, all at once, he pulled out.

"That's good," he whispered, "now, get on the bed."

I knew what he had in mind. He wanted me to be on the bottom, like the girls in the photographs. But I had other plans.

"No," I said, standing up, "You get on the bed."

Standing up, I gave his shoulders a quick, stiff shove, and he buckled and fell back onto the mattress.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.

As my answer, I got down on my hands and knees, straddling him, and stared straight down at him, licking my lips. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his cock, feeling the blood pulse through it. The commander shrank away from me and bit his lip. My hand walked down his organ to his balls and gently closed around them, and he let out an airy huff.

Now he was mine. With a chuckle, I placed my left forearm across his rock-solid chest and leaned on it as my other hand pulled down my pants.

I hovered there for a moment, letting myself drip onto his waiting masculinity. He looked pleadingly up at me, and I considered making him beg. Instead, I bent down and kissed him on the mouth, sucking on his lips for exactly as long as I wanted to. Then, I shifted my weight back and slid onto him.

Instantly, I felt my walls forced apart as I took him in. I bucked furiously, feeling his bluntness pushing deliciously against me. With each surge of friction, I felt ready to burst into a flame. Before long I felt a rolling orgasm building inside me and braced myself. A moment later, I let it all out. Every muscle in my body tightened, my moaning rose to a squeal, and I gushed out my pleasure.

I stood still for a moment, panting, letting my pussy drip. My partner opened his mouth to speak.

"We're not done," I assured him. "Not even close."

He started to say something, and I forced myself over him again, cutting his speech short. I heard only grunting and huffing as his body prepared to satisfy me again.

A few seconds in, I noticed that his breathing was ragged, and I could feel his chest shuddering under one spasm after another. I was wearing him out.

"Come on," I hissed, grinning toothily. "Come on. Give me one more!"

Just as I said this, his groaning changed pitch from exhausted to dolorous. His hands flailed and grasped at nothing. Inside me, I felt him stiffen even further and tighten. I braced myself.

His first load shot forcefully into me, bathing my tunnel in cream. Just as the first subsided, a second wave gushed in, saturating my sex with thick, hot juice. For a moment, I sat there, savoring the feeling of fullness.

"Ohh..." groaned the commander. "That's it. I'm done."

I frowned. I wanted just a bit more, but, if my previous sexual encounters had taught me anything, it was that a man never says he is done unless he means it. The fun part of this infiltration was over. Now it was time for the violence.

Before I could hesitate, I opened his shirt, pulled out my shank and drove it into him, then thrust again, and a third time.

The commander cried out in shock and pain, and his arms flailed impotently at me. I batted them away and kept thrusting the knife into him.

Why wasn't he dying?

When he gathered enough of himself to sit up, it finally occurred to me to slit his throat. Grabbing his collar, I brought up the knife and drew it cleanly across his neck.

I stood up, finally releasing his cock from my recesses. He was dead at last.

As I turned to make my getaway, my sex still exposed, I stopped. A guard stood in front of me, looking shocked and clueless.

"Sniper!" I improvised. "Sniper! Get down!"

Pulling up my pants, I shouldered past him and sprinted for the exit. At any moment, I expected to feel the sting of a gunshot on my back. Instead, I only heard shouts in Gorszkan.

Out of the tent, halfway to the edge of the town square, I heard a single gunshot, followed by the furious stamping of combat boots on asphalt. I smiled, knowing that I was getting away. Then I felt a hand slam down on my shoulder. The hand held fast, and I toppled painfully to the ground. I felt strong, gloved hands on my wrists, then the cold steel of a pair of handcuffs. There was a jerk on the collar of my shirt, and I was pulled roughly to my feet, facing the Gorszkan tent.

Desperately, I looked around, seeking some opportunity to escape. But even if I could get out of the one soldier's grasp, I knew, there was no way I could get out of their sight before they got a shot off.

Instead, I stood up straight and listened. Two soldiers slid to a stop in front of me, then conversed in Gorszkan while I listened to the best of my ability. I couldn't make out any sentences, but I did catch the Gorszkan word for 'fucktoy.'

I blushed.

I started struggling, trying in vain to pull my arms from the soldier behind me, but I succeeded only in making the other soldiers stare at me. They exchanged a glance and a quick word, and one of them stepped directly in front of me and grabbed the zipper to my shirt.

I looked into the soldier's eyes, and he returned my gaze for a moment, his face broadcasting desire. Then he looked back to my chest and pulled the zipper very slowly down. With the metallic slip of each of the zipper's teeth, he paused, then continued my exposure.

Partway down the zipper, the soldier who was stripping me quipped something, and I the other two men chuckled.

One didn't have to know Gorszkan to know that he had said, "No bra."

With visible eagerness, the first soldier continued unzipping me, speeding up, and put a hand on my chest, right over my racing heart. Inevitably, his hand found its way down to my breast, where the rough, light fiber of his glove brushed against my nipple.

I let out a puff of condensation.

Encouraged, he pulled his hand back and shucked off both gloves, barely taking the time to pocket them before returning them to me.

His soft, warm palm caressed my left breast, kneading and massaging it with tantalizing gentility, while his other hand finally finished unzipping my shirt and pulling down my pants. I felt firm flesh beneath my pussy.

Pleasure flooded my mind once again, flushing out the last thought of escape.

The rearmost soldier tapped the shoulder of the one who fondled me. As the hands disengaged once again from my hot, hungry body, the two exchanged a few sentences, then the whole troop started herding me toward the tent.

I knew I should have been terrified, but the soldier's teasing had brought me just up to the edge; I w¬as too horny to care.

Inside the tent, one of the soldiers made a few passes with an army knife, and my clothes fell away like a corn husk.

The men sat me down, and I squealed as my bare butt pressed into the freezing soil. While one held my shoulders, two others pulled my legs to their full length, then pried them apart, opening up my soft, wet pussy. They stopped, and, for a moment, I thought they might finally satisfy me. Instead, they kept at their work, tying little metal spikes to my ankles. Another soldier carried in a mallet. With eight strikes on each spike, they staked my legs to the ground, then stood back and admired their handiwork. I moaned obligingly.

The men stared at me for a long minute, letting their lustful eyes devour my nude, bound form. I closed my eyes and waited to feel their hands on me.

Instead, they turned and left the tent.

Watching them leave, I frowned. My pussy was still on fire, and these men were doing nothing about it. For a moment, I tried to remember how to allege homosexuality in Gorszkan. It did not come to me.

For a few minutes, I smoldered helplessly, trying to reach my pussy with my hands. Failing that, I brought them up and fondled my breasts instead. It wasn't much, but it was something. Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate on the relaxing pressure on my breasts and nipples. I moaned as loudly as I could manage, in hopes that one of the Gorszkan men would answer it. For what I guessed to be half of an hour, I had no such luck.

I slouched, defeated, and tried to think about something else. For the first time, it occurred to me how much danger I was in. These soldiers seemed content to use me as a toy- or, rather, a decoration- but they seemed to know that I had stabbed their commander. When someone else came to replace their officer, I knew he would not be so lenient.

Just as my thoughts drifted to the other saboteurs, someone finally came into the tent. He was a fully dressed Gorszkan soldier. A balaclava concealed most of his face, but I knew by the look in his eye that he finally meant business. Sure enough, once in, he peeled off his armor, then his jacket and shirt, exposing a thin chest with understated ripples on his abs and smooth bulges all down his arms.

I licked my lips. I had no idea why being dominated had me so thoroughly ignited this time, but I was ready.

Off came the pants. Ushered down by his thin, graceful hands, the lowering waistband revealed first a pair of muscular, hips, then a tough, beautiful ass. As he turned, lowering the pants all the way, I saw a cock of perfect proportions- just the right thickness, just the right contours and just the right length. I wanted to touch the swollen balls that hung just beneath it, but I didn't bother trying. I knew what was coming. I leaned back and got ready to have that second orgasm I had been waiting for.

First, the soldier drew a blindfold from a pouch and pressed it over my eyes, tying it dexterously behind my head.

Without my sight, my other senses sharpened. I could smell his scent, so immediate and engulfing. I could hear his panting as his body prepared itself for me. His hands felt like a warm wind as they caressed my body, playing with my curves, drawing lines of heat all over my sensitive form. Finally, as he carefully placed his hands on my cheeks and pressed his lips to mine, I opened up and tasted the cool tang of a breath mint as he pushed into my mouth.

Finally, I felt something pressing lightly on my pussy, and I gave a little squeak. Then he pushed inside. Immediately, everything felt tight. My whole world was hot and fast. I felt like I was about to implode as each frictional pulse sent a wave surging up through me, sizzling with our combined energy. I wanted to grab him, to push him over, to ride him until I blacked out, but I couldn't. All I could do was stay upright and take him as I felt a charge build up inside me. I lost control of my mouth and started wailing at the top of my lungs. A few seconds later, I burst. All of my tension finally broke out, and juice flooded from me.

As soon as I had my senses back, I realized that the cock was gone. I tried to ask what he was going to do next, but, muffled by afterglow, I just huffed lamely.

The hands slid off my blindfold, and I saw that the Gorszkan soldier had his balaclava off. I stared at his thin, pretty face for a moment.

My eyes widened.

"Lesnitsky!" I gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm getting you out of here," he promised. "Now keep quiet. They're already suspicious."

With that, he untied one ankle, then the other. Then he turned around and wrapped his arms around my chest, just below by breasts. After hoisting me to my feet, he untied my arms.

"Great!" I cheered. "Now, I need some clothes."

I turned and saw Lesnitsky deep in thought. Clearly, this had not occurred to him.

"I'll be right back," he promised. "Be inconspicuous."

He turned and skittered out of the hut, and I stood cluelessly for a few moments, then got down and sat with my arms behind my back and my legs spread, as they had been before. If any other Gorszkan came in, it would at least take him a few moments to notice that I was no longer bound.




Guerillas



For almost two minutes, I sat there, waiting, trying not to look tense, until someone punched back through the tent. It was Lesnitsky, carrying two armfuls of cloth. Kneeling down, he set the clothes in front of me.

"Here you go," be panted, "These are yours, I think. I couldn't find your underclothes. Sorry."

"Thank you," I said, standing up. "Don't worry about the panties."

Taking my time, I slid the snow pants over my curves, then put on the shirt and zipped it up, shivering as the cold metal brushed past my nipples. After a brief moment, I regained my senses and wriggled into the jacket. Finally, I pulled on two heavy socks, then rammed my feet into the winter boots and hastily laced them.

Behind me, there was a strange, smooth tearing noise. Looking back, I saw Lesnitsky using a knife- my shiv, in fact- to cut a vertical slit in the wall.

"Uh..." I said, "Lesnitsky? We have a door, you know."

"They're watching that one," said Lesnitsky. "This should get us enough of a head start. Get ready to run."

Lesnitsky finished cutting and peeked out.

"Okay," he said. "All clear. Go, go, go!"

I did not need to be told twice. The minute he got out of the tent, I followed him, in an energetic sprint, covering all the ground between the tent and the forest in seconds. As I did, I could have sworn that I heard shouts, but I ignored them.

"They didn't spot us..." gasped Lesnitsky, outside the town square. "Oh, thank goodness. We're home free."

"Thanks for rescuing me," I returned. "And... can I ask why you had sex with me?"

"Oh... I thought you wanted it."

"I did, and I loved it. But why there?"

"Guards get less attentive when they think there's sex going on. It makes them uncomfortable."

"Okay. One more thing: why didn't you cum in me? You know I'm on the pill, right?"

"Right. Karela wanted more sex today. She said that if I rescued you on my own, she'd give me until tomorrow morning to recharge. I'll need all the time I can get."

Back at the foxhole, Lesnitsky approached the entrance, then hesitated. Just as he motioned me in, a harsh voice barked his name.

Lesnitsky cringed. In a moment, Karela was in front of him, her mouth open to chastise him. When she saw me, she stopped mid-sentence. Her face softened.

"Hajnalka?" she breathed. "Hajnalka, you made it!"

Before I could react, she clasped her arms around me. I hesitated for a moment, then hugged her back.

"It's her!" came Elena's voice. "Check it out, Fran, she made it!"

I cracked a weak smile.

"I did," I panted. "Thanks to Lesnitsky here. Please, let go of me."

Karela separated from me, looking hurt."

"Sorry," I said. "But I'm exhausted. Right now, all I want is somewhere to lie down."

* * *

The next day, not far from our foxhole, I leaned against a tree, quietly staring out over the clearing. There, Karela knelt astride Lesnitsky, in the same position she had used when she first met him. But nothing else was the same. Her face was red with blush and not anger. Her posture was intense but not angry. She grabbed him in ecstasy and not rage, and she bucked on him with sensual ease, enjoying every inch of him. I could hear her moaning from here.

As I watched, lightly stroking my own wetness, I watched as Karela kicked back and loudly climaxed, sitting up straight as the tension gushed out of her all at once. Then, sure enough, she leaned down and kissed Lesnitsky on the mouth.

I smiled. As Karela got up and led her male back to the foxhole, I stood up and approached them.

"Hey!" I called, "Lesnitsky!"

The man turned. Stopping in front of him, I gently grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him.

"Thank you, Lesnitsky. Thank you for everything you've done."

"You're welcome," he returned. "Just doing my job."

"No," I said. "This wasn't just your job. I-"

I couldn't resist. I kissed him again. Watching, Karela rolled her eyes patronizingly.

Pulling away, I put my hands on his shoulders and steadied my voice.

"This wasn't just your job," I said. "This was something you chose. And I'll never forget you did that for us."