AmyRoberts
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Deleted. We are moving this to PM after someone started using our texts in their own writing with some minor editing.
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The Tosk (closed)
- Thread starter AmyRoberts
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TooDamnCute4U
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Her full, birth name had been Barbara Richardson, but no one had called her that since before the alien invasion. She'd been called Blondie during her teen years for obvious reasons. She hadn't minded that, except when the word dumb was used before it or she became the subject of stereotype jokes about women with her bottle provided choice of hair color.
As the relative civility and chivalry of the post-invasion world died, many men returned to the dark days of seeing women as nothing more than a warm, wet place to put their cock. Barb's amazingly pert and firm D-cups had led many of these misogynists and generally rude ass men to begin calling her Boobara. She'd ignored the derogatory nickname well enough for quite a while.
But one day, a militia member sat next to her at dinner, called her the new nickname, then reached out to get a handful of young, firm tit. Barb had initially laughed it off, but when the opportunity presented itself, she picked up a steak knife and put it right through his hand and into the kitchen table. She stood and leaned in while he screamed in agony and gave him a lecture on why nice guys kept their hands to themselves.
She'd feared retribution by that man or others in his militia squad who might find it necessary to put Barb back in her place. That place was, of course, was on her hands and knees while they pummeled her pussy mercilessly from behind. And the threats had been vocally making themselves more apparent.
Ironically, the very next night, Barb's life would change for the better and more secure. A militia squad found itself pinned down by a Tosk ground ambush, and it was Barb who swooped in to save the day. She'd been no more than a resource depleting civilian back then, but as the fight raged in the streets below, Barb worked her way to an otherwise unmanned, rooftop, Watch Post where she began raining Molotov cocktails and other improvised explosives down upon the aliens.
A second militia squad had been able to rescue the first before an explosion knocked Barb unconscious. She awoke three days in the infirmary to find that she was being credited with single handedly saving the lives of more than a dozen real soldiers -- meaning men -- including the man she'd stabbed days attack days earlier. She was offered a position within the militia without delay, which resulted in a new nickname: Private Barb.
In certain circles, though, Barb had come to be known affectionately by another nickname. A man entered the Company's little basement staging area and hollered to her, "Bomber! Where's your Sergeant?"
"Big John's checking the perimeter already, L-T," Barb lied regarding Big John's absence. "He told us to follow behind once you arrived and gave the go ahead, sir."
The man in the mishmash of Army and Marine uniforms and civilian clothes as well wore Lieutenant bars drawn on his labels in black permanent marker. The mix of clothing was typical in this day and age that which had which had so readily been produced and available in the pre-invasion period had to be scrounged from anywhere and everywhere that it could be found. Even from the bodies of the fallen, as had been much of both the Lieutenant's uniform and Barb's.
The officer gestured Barb -- now a Corporal after a recent promotion -- to head out. She called to the four members of her fireteam, and out they went to begin their patrol of the 12 block neighborhood that was now their home territory. Every building in downtown had been damaged in the initial invasion or in the attacks since. Many had collapsed fully or partially. The going through the rubble was rough at times, but Barb and her team knew the terrain better than the Tosk, which was probably the reason they were still alive.
There hadn't been an alien attack on what they called Zone Alpha in more than a month. There was really little to bring the Tosk here anymore. The number of humans still alive here was small, and the threat they presented the aliens was even smaller than that.
And yet, twenty minutes into the patrol, one of the squad heard the familiar low moaning sound of an alien drone overhead. The squad took cover and waited, and a minute later explosions were heard farther back along the path they'd used to get here. Once the booming and raining of debris had ceased, a new sound wafted through the devastated city: screams of pain.
Barb rushed her squad back the way they came to find the tardy squad under Barb's sergeant working desperately to keep Big John from bleeding out. His belly was ripped open an neck was spurting from his thigh. Barb and her squad jumped in to help, but it was useless. Within a minute of them arriving, Big John was dead. Two others were injured but they would survive.
An informal investigation later would exposed the Sergeant's tardiness and the reason for it and the likely fact that his squad wouldn't have come under attack if they'd deployed as scheduled, rather than ten minutes late.
But that would come later. Right now, though, the Lieutenant pulled Barb aside and handed her a permanent marker. Looking to her helmet and collars and speaking of the chevrons she would be wearing from this day forth, he told her, "Draw'em. Alpha Section is yours."
Barb wasn't happy about the way she'd gotten her promotion, of course. But she was happy to have it. Until the Lieutenant told her that her first responsibility was to report Big John's death to his better half. Barb had met Marla on numerous occasions. She tried not to spend too much time around her, though, and she never allowed herself to be with the woman alone in Big John's quarters.
The problem wasn't that Barb didn't like Marla or anything like that. The problem was that Bark liked Marla too much. The new Sergeant of Alpha Section had never had a problem avoiding a sexual entanglement with the men of her unit because she had no interest in what her unit-mates were packing down below their utility belts. Barb's interests and preferences were in people sporting equipment more similar to her own.
And the very first time she'd laid eyes on the then-half naked Marla, Barb had known that if led into temptation, she would follow.
As the relative civility and chivalry of the post-invasion world died, many men returned to the dark days of seeing women as nothing more than a warm, wet place to put their cock. Barb's amazingly pert and firm D-cups had led many of these misogynists and generally rude ass men to begin calling her Boobara. She'd ignored the derogatory nickname well enough for quite a while.
But one day, a militia member sat next to her at dinner, called her the new nickname, then reached out to get a handful of young, firm tit. Barb had initially laughed it off, but when the opportunity presented itself, she picked up a steak knife and put it right through his hand and into the kitchen table. She stood and leaned in while he screamed in agony and gave him a lecture on why nice guys kept their hands to themselves.
She'd feared retribution by that man or others in his militia squad who might find it necessary to put Barb back in her place. That place was, of course, was on her hands and knees while they pummeled her pussy mercilessly from behind. And the threats had been vocally making themselves more apparent.
Ironically, the very next night, Barb's life would change for the better and more secure. A militia squad found itself pinned down by a Tosk ground ambush, and it was Barb who swooped in to save the day. She'd been no more than a resource depleting civilian back then, but as the fight raged in the streets below, Barb worked her way to an otherwise unmanned, rooftop, Watch Post where she began raining Molotov cocktails and other improvised explosives down upon the aliens.
A second militia squad had been able to rescue the first before an explosion knocked Barb unconscious. She awoke three days in the infirmary to find that she was being credited with single handedly saving the lives of more than a dozen real soldiers -- meaning men -- including the man she'd stabbed days attack days earlier. She was offered a position within the militia without delay, which resulted in a new nickname: Private Barb.
In certain circles, though, Barb had come to be known affectionately by another nickname. A man entered the Company's little basement staging area and hollered to her, "Bomber! Where's your Sergeant?"
"Big John's checking the perimeter already, L-T," Barb lied regarding Big John's absence. "He told us to follow behind once you arrived and gave the go ahead, sir."
The man in the mishmash of Army and Marine uniforms and civilian clothes as well wore Lieutenant bars drawn on his labels in black permanent marker. The mix of clothing was typical in this day and age that which had which had so readily been produced and available in the pre-invasion period had to be scrounged from anywhere and everywhere that it could be found. Even from the bodies of the fallen, as had been much of both the Lieutenant's uniform and Barb's.
The officer gestured Barb -- now a Corporal after a recent promotion -- to head out. She called to the four members of her fireteam, and out they went to begin their patrol of the 12 block neighborhood that was now their home territory. Every building in downtown had been damaged in the initial invasion or in the attacks since. Many had collapsed fully or partially. The going through the rubble was rough at times, but Barb and her team knew the terrain better than the Tosk, which was probably the reason they were still alive.
There hadn't been an alien attack on what they called Zone Alpha in more than a month. There was really little to bring the Tosk here anymore. The number of humans still alive here was small, and the threat they presented the aliens was even smaller than that.
And yet, twenty minutes into the patrol, one of the squad heard the familiar low moaning sound of an alien drone overhead. The squad took cover and waited, and a minute later explosions were heard farther back along the path they'd used to get here. Once the booming and raining of debris had ceased, a new sound wafted through the devastated city: screams of pain.
Barb rushed her squad back the way they came to find the tardy squad under Barb's sergeant working desperately to keep Big John from bleeding out. His belly was ripped open an neck was spurting from his thigh. Barb and her squad jumped in to help, but it was useless. Within a minute of them arriving, Big John was dead. Two others were injured but they would survive.
An informal investigation later would exposed the Sergeant's tardiness and the reason for it and the likely fact that his squad wouldn't have come under attack if they'd deployed as scheduled, rather than ten minutes late.
But that would come later. Right now, though, the Lieutenant pulled Barb aside and handed her a permanent marker. Looking to her helmet and collars and speaking of the chevrons she would be wearing from this day forth, he told her, "Draw'em. Alpha Section is yours."
Barb wasn't happy about the way she'd gotten her promotion, of course. But she was happy to have it. Until the Lieutenant told her that her first responsibility was to report Big John's death to his better half. Barb had met Marla on numerous occasions. She tried not to spend too much time around her, though, and she never allowed herself to be with the woman alone in Big John's quarters.
The problem wasn't that Barb didn't like Marla or anything like that. The problem was that Bark liked Marla too much. The new Sergeant of Alpha Section had never had a problem avoiding a sexual entanglement with the men of her unit because she had no interest in what her unit-mates were packing down below their utility belts. Barb's interests and preferences were in people sporting equipment more similar to her own.
And the very first time she'd laid eyes on the then-half naked Marla, Barb had known that if led into temptation, she would follow.
AmyRoberts
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TooDamnCute4U
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Barb had found it more difficult to tell Marla about her Sergeant than she'd thought it would be. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd seen dead bodies or seen people die or even had to report a loss to a friend, lover, or family member. But her secret desires for Big John's bed partner had made delivering the message even harder.
"What am I going to do?"
"What is to become of me?"
Barb said almost immediately, "I'll take care of you."
As soon as she spoke the words, Barb knew she'd made a mistake. Telling a woman I'll take care of you in the context of their little, struggling-to-survive community was akin to saying If you sexually serve me, I'll ensure you have all you need.
Sure, the words had come from another woman, so perhaps Marla hadn't taken them that way. But Barb blushed a fiery red at wondering what the woman thought she meant. She quickly but nervously said, "I mean … what I mean is … I, I will … I will make sure no one, that no one, that no harm comes to you."
"What am I going to do?"
"What is to become of me?"
Barb said almost immediately, "I'll take care of you."
As soon as she spoke the words, Barb knew she'd made a mistake. Telling a woman I'll take care of you in the context of their little, struggling-to-survive community was akin to saying If you sexually serve me, I'll ensure you have all you need.
Sure, the words had come from another woman, so perhaps Marla hadn't taken them that way. But Barb blushed a fiery red at wondering what the woman thought she meant. She quickly but nervously said, "I mean … what I mean is … I, I will … I will make sure no one, that no one, that no harm comes to you."
AmyRoberts
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RobbieRand
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(Thanks for the invite. I hope this isn't too long. I will shorten them to match your own contributions in the future.)
Karl was stunned by the news of Sergeant Hoskin's death. Big John had been a good soldier; he'd served under Karl in the Army in Syria, then in Iran, before US troops were withdrawn from around the world to return home in expectation of the arrival of the alien ships.
The Sergeant's loss was the bad news. The availability of his bedmate was the good news. Marla was going to be looking for another protector right away, and Major Karl King -- the CO of Bravo Company and the highest ranking man in the Downtown Defense District -- was in the best position to claim her.
Karl and Marla had history, not that she would remember it. When he'd still been a Captain and not even being considered for promotion within the Triple D, he'd been one of her regulars. He'd found her so incredible in bed that he'd very nearly asked her to be his and his alone. But he'd already had a bedmate, and that woman's brother had been a Colonel in Central Command. If Karl was going to get ahead in the Earth Defense Force, he certainly couldn't toss this woman aside.
Shortly after he'd given command of the Triple D, his bedmate had been killed in a Tosk bombing. But by then, Marla belonged to Sergeant Hoskin. Karl's chance had passed. But he had a second chance now.
"Has Marla been informed?" he asked the man who had brought him the news, his Adjutant, Captain Daniels.
Daniels didn't immediately respond. He himself was aware of who had been sharing Hoskin's bed and, as compensation, the resources he earned as a Sergeant in the EDF. But it would never have occurred to Daniels that the Major would know the woman. Hoskins was the lowly Section Leader of two Squads, a total of 10 fighters and 4 support staff. Major Karl King was the Commanding officer of Bravo Company, which counted in its ranks 120 fighters and half that many staff and general laborers.
To be honest -- not knowing the history the Major and Sergeant shared from before the invasion -- Daniels had been surprised to find out that the Major even knew who the Sergeant was, let alone who he was boning at night.
In answer to Karl's question about Marla, Daniels said, "I'm not sure if she has been informed, sir. Would you like me to--?"
"No," Karl interrupted. "I'll, um … I'll inform her myself. Express my regrets in person."
The Adjutant's expression showed his confusion. Informing a Sergeant's loved one of that fighting man's death was not the job of a Major who was three levels of command above him. Daniels began, "Sir, are you sure you don't want me to ask--?"
"I'm sure, Captain," Karl cut in. He contemplated his next step, then told Daniels, "Please put together a care box for me to take to the Sergeant's widow."
"Widow, sir?" Daniels asked. A bit of a surprised snort came from his nostrils at the thought of using such a term of respect for such a woman. But when he saw the hard glare coming from his superior, Daniels straightened up and said with respect, "Yes, sir. I'll get on that right now."
The Adjutant saluted, then -- seeing that Karl wasn't going to show him the expected salute in return -- dropped his arm, turned, and headed away.
Karl stripped out of his field uniform and put on what amounted to a dress uniform. By the time he was ready to go, Daniels had put together a milk crate full of food, hygiene products, first aid needs, and more. In one corner of the crate the top of a wine bottle poked out from beneath some cooking fuel cans.
The two men headed from the Major's quarters toward those of the deceased Sergeant. Bravo Company of the EDF occupied the sub-levels of what had once been the Trenton Towers. The building had had 6 floors of relatively expensive apartments above ground, a single sublevel of parking, another level of lockable storage units, and final level of utility space and additional, unsecured storage space.
As CO of the Triple D, Karl had the largest and most comfortably decorated and appointed quarters. Four units in one corner of the 2nd sublevel had been connected by knocking out cinder block doorways. The storage units around it were used by his Adjutant, two other Aides, and several laborers whose first duties were to be available to him. Around their quarters were storage units for holding the loot and other resources the Company collected from around the city.
What it came down to was that Karl was isolated away from most of the common soldiers and all the noise and mayhem they sometimes created. And he liked that peace and quiet very much.
Walking with his Adjutant, Karl nodded to, saluted, and traded greetings with an assortment of soldiers and civilian, men and women, old and young. He always tried to make an effort to seem likeable to the civilians, even though he saw most of them as just a drain on dwindling resources.
Sure, the Militia was here to protect the civilian survivors of the alien invasion and subsequent genocide. But really, Karl sometimes thought, if he could just eliminate about half of the people under his care, the rest of them would live much better lives, wouldn't they?
As he and Daniels rounded the last corner before the Sergeant's quarters, Karl took the crate that the Adjutant had been lugging through the building.
Some soldiers and civilians in the passageway respectfully stepped aside at the CO's approach, and Karl got his first unobscured view of Big John's home. The door was wide open, and Karl could just barely see Marla in the corner, crouched, sobbing while another woman -- Karl would have known that shape as Bomber Barb anywhere -- tried to comfort her.
He stopped short, realizing that he was too late. He also began to realized that this had been a bad idea. It would look like he was trying to prey on the widow. He stood there for a long moment, nodded at but generally ignoring the regrets being given to him for losing such a fine soldier.
Finally, Karl turned to his Adjutant and handed back the crate. "Please deliver this to the widow with my regrets. Tell her … tell her I didn't want to intrude on her sorrowful time, but that I would be honored if she either came to my office or invited me to her home so that we could discuss her future."
And without waiting for a response from the junior officer, Karl returned to his quarters … locked the door to his bed chamber … and masturbated to the fantasy of once again having Marla sitting atop him while she writhed about skillfully.
Karl was stunned by the news of Sergeant Hoskin's death. Big John had been a good soldier; he'd served under Karl in the Army in Syria, then in Iran, before US troops were withdrawn from around the world to return home in expectation of the arrival of the alien ships.
The Sergeant's loss was the bad news. The availability of his bedmate was the good news. Marla was going to be looking for another protector right away, and Major Karl King -- the CO of Bravo Company and the highest ranking man in the Downtown Defense District -- was in the best position to claim her.
Karl and Marla had history, not that she would remember it. When he'd still been a Captain and not even being considered for promotion within the Triple D, he'd been one of her regulars. He'd found her so incredible in bed that he'd very nearly asked her to be his and his alone. But he'd already had a bedmate, and that woman's brother had been a Colonel in Central Command. If Karl was going to get ahead in the Earth Defense Force, he certainly couldn't toss this woman aside.
Shortly after he'd given command of the Triple D, his bedmate had been killed in a Tosk bombing. But by then, Marla belonged to Sergeant Hoskin. Karl's chance had passed. But he had a second chance now.
"Has Marla been informed?" he asked the man who had brought him the news, his Adjutant, Captain Daniels.
Daniels didn't immediately respond. He himself was aware of who had been sharing Hoskin's bed and, as compensation, the resources he earned as a Sergeant in the EDF. But it would never have occurred to Daniels that the Major would know the woman. Hoskins was the lowly Section Leader of two Squads, a total of 10 fighters and 4 support staff. Major Karl King was the Commanding officer of Bravo Company, which counted in its ranks 120 fighters and half that many staff and general laborers.
To be honest -- not knowing the history the Major and Sergeant shared from before the invasion -- Daniels had been surprised to find out that the Major even knew who the Sergeant was, let alone who he was boning at night.
In answer to Karl's question about Marla, Daniels said, "I'm not sure if she has been informed, sir. Would you like me to--?"
"No," Karl interrupted. "I'll, um … I'll inform her myself. Express my regrets in person."
The Adjutant's expression showed his confusion. Informing a Sergeant's loved one of that fighting man's death was not the job of a Major who was three levels of command above him. Daniels began, "Sir, are you sure you don't want me to ask--?"
"I'm sure, Captain," Karl cut in. He contemplated his next step, then told Daniels, "Please put together a care box for me to take to the Sergeant's widow."
"Widow, sir?" Daniels asked. A bit of a surprised snort came from his nostrils at the thought of using such a term of respect for such a woman. But when he saw the hard glare coming from his superior, Daniels straightened up and said with respect, "Yes, sir. I'll get on that right now."
The Adjutant saluted, then -- seeing that Karl wasn't going to show him the expected salute in return -- dropped his arm, turned, and headed away.
Karl stripped out of his field uniform and put on what amounted to a dress uniform. By the time he was ready to go, Daniels had put together a milk crate full of food, hygiene products, first aid needs, and more. In one corner of the crate the top of a wine bottle poked out from beneath some cooking fuel cans.
The two men headed from the Major's quarters toward those of the deceased Sergeant. Bravo Company of the EDF occupied the sub-levels of what had once been the Trenton Towers. The building had had 6 floors of relatively expensive apartments above ground, a single sublevel of parking, another level of lockable storage units, and final level of utility space and additional, unsecured storage space.
As CO of the Triple D, Karl had the largest and most comfortably decorated and appointed quarters. Four units in one corner of the 2nd sublevel had been connected by knocking out cinder block doorways. The storage units around it were used by his Adjutant, two other Aides, and several laborers whose first duties were to be available to him. Around their quarters were storage units for holding the loot and other resources the Company collected from around the city.
What it came down to was that Karl was isolated away from most of the common soldiers and all the noise and mayhem they sometimes created. And he liked that peace and quiet very much.
Walking with his Adjutant, Karl nodded to, saluted, and traded greetings with an assortment of soldiers and civilian, men and women, old and young. He always tried to make an effort to seem likeable to the civilians, even though he saw most of them as just a drain on dwindling resources.
Sure, the Militia was here to protect the civilian survivors of the alien invasion and subsequent genocide. But really, Karl sometimes thought, if he could just eliminate about half of the people under his care, the rest of them would live much better lives, wouldn't they?
As he and Daniels rounded the last corner before the Sergeant's quarters, Karl took the crate that the Adjutant had been lugging through the building.
Some soldiers and civilians in the passageway respectfully stepped aside at the CO's approach, and Karl got his first unobscured view of Big John's home. The door was wide open, and Karl could just barely see Marla in the corner, crouched, sobbing while another woman -- Karl would have known that shape as Bomber Barb anywhere -- tried to comfort her.
He stopped short, realizing that he was too late. He also began to realized that this had been a bad idea. It would look like he was trying to prey on the widow. He stood there for a long moment, nodded at but generally ignoring the regrets being given to him for losing such a fine soldier.
Finally, Karl turned to his Adjutant and handed back the crate. "Please deliver this to the widow with my regrets. Tell her … tell her I didn't want to intrude on her sorrowful time, but that I would be honored if she either came to my office or invited me to her home so that we could discuss her future."
And without waiting for a response from the junior officer, Karl returned to his quarters … locked the door to his bed chamber … and masturbated to the fantasy of once again having Marla sitting atop him while she writhed about skillfully.
TooDamnCute4U
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"You're a good person, Corporal," Marla told Barb. "John always told me that."
"Please, call me Barb," the blond said.
Suddenly, her hands were in Marla's, and then just as suddenly, the brunette's arms were around her midsection, hugging her. Barb hesitated, unsure. She had a sexual interest in this woman who had just lost her lover, protector, and breadwinner. It she feared it would look opportunistic to make a move on her. Of course, this was just a comforting hug, right?
Barb wrapped her arms around Marla, gently pressing and smoothing -- not so much caressing -- her hands upon the other woman's back.
As she held her, Barb couldn't have know that twenty feet behind her in the hallway, the company's commanding officer was suffering a very similar crisis concerning the widow. As the hug persisted, Barb suddenly found herself becoming noticeably excited by the embrace. Her nipples had always been very sensitive and in a double way: first, they swelled to a conspicuous size when Barb became aroused; and second, their swelling was more than obvious to her, becoming almost painful in those first few seconds.
The latter told Barb that they'd hardened noticeably against the other woman's body, and while she knew she should pull back to hide the physical change, she … just … couldn't … do it. The feel of Marla in her arms was overwhelming. And she could probably stand here like this forever if the other young beauty did not pull back on her own.
But it would be a third person who would cause the pair to separate as Karl's Adjutant stepped up close to the door and said softly, "Forgive me for interrupting."
Barb pulled back, immediately pulling her jacket closed in an attempt to ensure one or both of her Hershey's Kiss sized nips didn't catch attention. The man at the door introduced himself, showed the crate, and explained that Major King wished Marla to have it and his regrets for her loss.
"I'll take that," Barb offered, taking the plastic crate and finding a place to set it down. It was a nice gesture, and she didn't find anything inappropriate about it as she had no idea that Karl King had designs on the woman that she wished to have for herself. Barb felt as though she had intruded too much all ready and told Marla, "Please, if you need anything at all, call on me."
She smiled as she added, "And when you call on me, call me Barb"
She headed away through the barracks, wishing she could have stayed longer. Back in the room she shared with the only other woman in the Platoon, Barb locked the door, pulled her trousers down to her ankles, and did the same thing to her sensitive folds and clit that the other suitor for the Widow Marla was doing to his cock in his own quarters on the other side of the basement.
"Please, call me Barb," the blond said.
Suddenly, her hands were in Marla's, and then just as suddenly, the brunette's arms were around her midsection, hugging her. Barb hesitated, unsure. She had a sexual interest in this woman who had just lost her lover, protector, and breadwinner. It she feared it would look opportunistic to make a move on her. Of course, this was just a comforting hug, right?
Barb wrapped her arms around Marla, gently pressing and smoothing -- not so much caressing -- her hands upon the other woman's back.
As she held her, Barb couldn't have know that twenty feet behind her in the hallway, the company's commanding officer was suffering a very similar crisis concerning the widow. As the hug persisted, Barb suddenly found herself becoming noticeably excited by the embrace. Her nipples had always been very sensitive and in a double way: first, they swelled to a conspicuous size when Barb became aroused; and second, their swelling was more than obvious to her, becoming almost painful in those first few seconds.
The latter told Barb that they'd hardened noticeably against the other woman's body, and while she knew she should pull back to hide the physical change, she … just … couldn't … do it. The feel of Marla in her arms was overwhelming. And she could probably stand here like this forever if the other young beauty did not pull back on her own.
But it would be a third person who would cause the pair to separate as Karl's Adjutant stepped up close to the door and said softly, "Forgive me for interrupting."
Barb pulled back, immediately pulling her jacket closed in an attempt to ensure one or both of her Hershey's Kiss sized nips didn't catch attention. The man at the door introduced himself, showed the crate, and explained that Major King wished Marla to have it and his regrets for her loss.
"I'll take that," Barb offered, taking the plastic crate and finding a place to set it down. It was a nice gesture, and she didn't find anything inappropriate about it as she had no idea that Karl King had designs on the woman that she wished to have for herself. Barb felt as though she had intruded too much all ready and told Marla, "Please, if you need anything at all, call on me."
She smiled as she added, "And when you call on me, call me Barb"
She headed away through the barracks, wishing she could have stayed longer. Back in the room she shared with the only other woman in the Platoon, Barb locked the door, pulled her trousers down to her ankles, and did the same thing to her sensitive folds and clit that the other suitor for the Widow Marla was doing to his cock in his own quarters on the other side of the basement.
AmyRoberts
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RobbieRand
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Karl's self-induced orgasm was less than satisfying. Emotionally, that was. His heart raced, his body trembled, his breathing sped. He came. But it was anything but ecstasy and certainly not euphoric. He'd never really got that much out of beating his meat. He'd be inside an actual woman tonight. He almost always was. What was the good of being in control if you didn't actual control?
In the meantime, though, Karl cleaned his discharge from his hand and cock, dressed again, and after opening the door to his working space, went back to his desk to look over the proposed plans for conquering a rival militia's power production facility. Division North had once been part of the Earth Defense Force but had splintered off after disagreements with Central Command. Div-N's commander, Tripp Hanson, had called the demanded transfer of resources from his zone to headquarters exorbitant tribute, particularly after Cent-Com cut in half the shipments of weapons, ammunition, explosives, and other military gear to Div-N.
Normally, Cent-Com would have sent the adjacent Companies into Div-N's area with demands that the Officer Corps arrest and turn over the renegade Commanding Officer and any others who were participating in the mutiny. The problem, of course, had been that Tripp Hanson was a well trained, very experienced, highly innovative, and unabashedly brutal leader. Cent-Com's first attempt to arrest him had resulted in the entire annihilation of a Company of 80 men.
A different approach was necessary, and Karl King believed he'd come up with it. As he was studying the options his officers had submitted, his Adjutant returned from an errand he'd performed after leaving Marla. Karl asked, "How did she respond to my gift … and to my offer, Captain?"
Daniels answered that Marla had been very appreciative and accepted the invitation to come visit him the next day. When Daniels went quiet for a moment, Karl asked, "What is it, Captain?"
"Are you familiar with Corporal Barbara Richardson, sir?" he began with an already obvious tone of concern in his voice. "She led a Fire Team under Sergeant Hoskin."
Karl knew very well who the woman was. He was a very attentive Commanding Officer, first. And second, every male who liked pussy knew who Barbara Richardson was. But he held his expression and didn't respond, so the Adjutant -- who misunderstood his boss's lack of response -- clarified with, "Bomber … the Blonde Bomber … Boobara … Betty Big--"
"I get it, Captain," Karl responded with an annoyed tone. "What about her?"
"Her Lieutenant promoted her to Sergeant Hoskin's position this afternoon," Daniels went on. "Gave her Sergeant stripes and command over Bravo Squad."
"And...?" Karl asked. "I trust my Officers, so, I assume she deserved the promotion. Unless her tits got them for her."
Daniels chuckled, but then went quiet when he realized that his superior hadn't been trying to be funny. He went on, "When we -- you and I -- went to see Marla Hoskins … is it proper to refer to her by the Sergeant's surname, sir? When we got there, the woman who was already--"
"Yeah, yeah," Karl cut in. He wanted to say Yeah, I recognized that fine ass but didn't. "Go on."
Daniels was hesitant to continue but did. "Rumor is … Corporal-- I mean Sergeant Richardson plays for the other team."
Karl cocked his head with a confused expression. He'd been so intensely involved in his Div-N situation that for a moment he thought Daniels was suggesting that Sergeant Richardson was a spy for Tripp Hanson. Then suddenly he caught the Captain's meaning and murmured, "Oh...! The other team."
"Yes, sir." When Karl gave the Adjutant another shoulder shrug, Daniels explained further, "Well, if Sergeant Richardson's interests in a mate follow along the same lines as yours, sir … and the Sergeant doesn't currently have a bedmate … but she does have bump in compensation due to the promotion from Corporal to Sergeant … and Marla is now going to be seeking a new patron--"
"You forget your place, Captain," Karl interrupted with a growling tone that caused the Adjutant to suddenly stand up straighter and set his eyes on the wall directly ahead of him. Karl had thought that his actions today regarding Marla had been more subtle than they were. But obviously, the Captain had figured it out easily enough. Had Marla? He snapped at the man as he returned to his desk and his work, "You're dismissed, Captain."
Daniels saluted crisply, spun on a heel with formality and headed for and through the door. Karl went back to his plans, but he couldn't get his mind off the fear of Marla shacking up with a lowly Sergeant rather than himself. He lifted one of the attack options for the Div-N power facility and read the note scribbled in the margins:
Requires one crack Squad of 5-8 with female to serve as distraction.
Karl sat back to read the plan more intently. He looked at the summary and found another hand written note:
Anticipated loses: 50%.
He set the plan aside for a moment. Then he pressed a button that activated a buzzer that ultimately led to the return of his Adjutant. Karl ordered, "Have Sergeant Richardson report to me at oh-six-thirty. And give this to Captain Prichard. Tell him we're going with his plan. And I have just the right woman to spearhead it."
After Daniels departed, a smiling Karl King went out to the hall to find one of his favorite play things. His good mood and thoughts about the future kept him hard and energetic for three very satisfying climaxes this time around. He went to sleep holding the warm body, dreaming of how soon enough that warm body would surely belong to Marla King
In the meantime, though, Karl cleaned his discharge from his hand and cock, dressed again, and after opening the door to his working space, went back to his desk to look over the proposed plans for conquering a rival militia's power production facility. Division North had once been part of the Earth Defense Force but had splintered off after disagreements with Central Command. Div-N's commander, Tripp Hanson, had called the demanded transfer of resources from his zone to headquarters exorbitant tribute, particularly after Cent-Com cut in half the shipments of weapons, ammunition, explosives, and other military gear to Div-N.
Normally, Cent-Com would have sent the adjacent Companies into Div-N's area with demands that the Officer Corps arrest and turn over the renegade Commanding Officer and any others who were participating in the mutiny. The problem, of course, had been that Tripp Hanson was a well trained, very experienced, highly innovative, and unabashedly brutal leader. Cent-Com's first attempt to arrest him had resulted in the entire annihilation of a Company of 80 men.
A different approach was necessary, and Karl King believed he'd come up with it. As he was studying the options his officers had submitted, his Adjutant returned from an errand he'd performed after leaving Marla. Karl asked, "How did she respond to my gift … and to my offer, Captain?"
Daniels answered that Marla had been very appreciative and accepted the invitation to come visit him the next day. When Daniels went quiet for a moment, Karl asked, "What is it, Captain?"
"Are you familiar with Corporal Barbara Richardson, sir?" he began with an already obvious tone of concern in his voice. "She led a Fire Team under Sergeant Hoskin."
Karl knew very well who the woman was. He was a very attentive Commanding Officer, first. And second, every male who liked pussy knew who Barbara Richardson was. But he held his expression and didn't respond, so the Adjutant -- who misunderstood his boss's lack of response -- clarified with, "Bomber … the Blonde Bomber … Boobara … Betty Big--"
"I get it, Captain," Karl responded with an annoyed tone. "What about her?"
"Her Lieutenant promoted her to Sergeant Hoskin's position this afternoon," Daniels went on. "Gave her Sergeant stripes and command over Bravo Squad."
"And...?" Karl asked. "I trust my Officers, so, I assume she deserved the promotion. Unless her tits got them for her."
Daniels chuckled, but then went quiet when he realized that his superior hadn't been trying to be funny. He went on, "When we -- you and I -- went to see Marla Hoskins … is it proper to refer to her by the Sergeant's surname, sir? When we got there, the woman who was already--"
"Yeah, yeah," Karl cut in. He wanted to say Yeah, I recognized that fine ass but didn't. "Go on."
Daniels was hesitant to continue but did. "Rumor is … Corporal-- I mean Sergeant Richardson plays for the other team."
Karl cocked his head with a confused expression. He'd been so intensely involved in his Div-N situation that for a moment he thought Daniels was suggesting that Sergeant Richardson was a spy for Tripp Hanson. Then suddenly he caught the Captain's meaning and murmured, "Oh...! The other team."
"Yes, sir." When Karl gave the Adjutant another shoulder shrug, Daniels explained further, "Well, if Sergeant Richardson's interests in a mate follow along the same lines as yours, sir … and the Sergeant doesn't currently have a bedmate … but she does have bump in compensation due to the promotion from Corporal to Sergeant … and Marla is now going to be seeking a new patron--"
"You forget your place, Captain," Karl interrupted with a growling tone that caused the Adjutant to suddenly stand up straighter and set his eyes on the wall directly ahead of him. Karl had thought that his actions today regarding Marla had been more subtle than they were. But obviously, the Captain had figured it out easily enough. Had Marla? He snapped at the man as he returned to his desk and his work, "You're dismissed, Captain."
Daniels saluted crisply, spun on a heel with formality and headed for and through the door. Karl went back to his plans, but he couldn't get his mind off the fear of Marla shacking up with a lowly Sergeant rather than himself. He lifted one of the attack options for the Div-N power facility and read the note scribbled in the margins:
Requires one crack Squad of 5-8 with female to serve as distraction.
Karl sat back to read the plan more intently. He looked at the summary and found another hand written note:
Anticipated loses: 50%.
He set the plan aside for a moment. Then he pressed a button that activated a buzzer that ultimately led to the return of his Adjutant. Karl ordered, "Have Sergeant Richardson report to me at oh-six-thirty. And give this to Captain Prichard. Tell him we're going with his plan. And I have just the right woman to spearhead it."
After Daniels departed, a smiling Karl King went out to the hall to find one of his favorite play things. His good mood and thoughts about the future kept him hard and energetic for three very satisfying climaxes this time around. He went to sleep holding the warm body, dreaming of how soon enough that warm body would surely belong to Marla King
TooDamnCute4U
Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2017
- Posts
- 72
Barbara "Bomber" Richardson didn't understand why she was in the meeting. Everyone of importance was present, from the Commanding Officer Major Karl King to his Senior Officer Corps to the most important civilian members of the community. Barb was a lowly Sergeant who had enjoyed a bit of fame resulting in her becoming the first non-military female to join the ranks of the Militia defending the Triple D. That fame, she assumed -- incorrectly -- had already been forgotten by most. And the promotion? Hell, that had happened less than 12 hours earlier!
She understood the plan well enough. They were going to infiltrate the sphere of influence of Division North, a rival splinter militia, and steal some tech important to the power generation abilities of both communities. It was a brilliant plan, though dangerous. One of the Captains -- Preacher Prichard they called him because he never seemed to stop talking while drinking -- solemnly anticipated that there could be losses of 10 to 20 percent. Barb thought she saw something in the man's expression and heard something in his tone, as if he was holding back on the true danger of the mission.
Then her part was suddenly explained. Prichard explained that the point of penetration was a Division North brothel. And the only way to get into that was through the employee entrance. And suddenly, most of the faces in the room -- all but one of which were male -- looked directly to Boobara Richardson as she stood against the wall in the back of the room.
Barb's eyes widened when she realized what they were proposing. She hesitated for a moment, then stood taller and looked directly to the Major. She said with feigned confidence, "I can do this, sir. You can count on me."
Already, though, Barb was feeling a trembling beginning to cause her hands to shake a bit.
She understood the plan well enough. They were going to infiltrate the sphere of influence of Division North, a rival splinter militia, and steal some tech important to the power generation abilities of both communities. It was a brilliant plan, though dangerous. One of the Captains -- Preacher Prichard they called him because he never seemed to stop talking while drinking -- solemnly anticipated that there could be losses of 10 to 20 percent. Barb thought she saw something in the man's expression and heard something in his tone, as if he was holding back on the true danger of the mission.
Then her part was suddenly explained. Prichard explained that the point of penetration was a Division North brothel. And the only way to get into that was through the employee entrance. And suddenly, most of the faces in the room -- all but one of which were male -- looked directly to Boobara Richardson as she stood against the wall in the back of the room.
Barb's eyes widened when she realized what they were proposing. She hesitated for a moment, then stood taller and looked directly to the Major. She said with feigned confidence, "I can do this, sir. You can count on me."
Already, though, Barb was feeling a trembling beginning to cause her hands to shake a bit.
RobbieRand
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jul 28, 2016
- Posts
- 302
The meeting continued, and the details were hammered out. Captain Prichard would provide the insertion team from his own platoon. He'd already hand picked 12 men to lead the infiltration. They would employ every last bit of high tech military gear that Cent-Com had been able to provide the Triple D: night vision goggles, motion detectors, low volume/high impact stun grenades, and more.
The problem for Karl was the more part. They needed more! As he listened to the plan, he reminisced about his last infiltration prior to the Tosk invasion. He and his squad had penetrated a suspected Iranian atomic bomb factory with twice as much high tech gear, and there had only been 8 men on the ground. They'd also had another 32 men within 8 miles for quick response, 3 drones overhead for surveillance and quick missile response, and an entire division on standby in case the infiltration backfired and a war broke out.
But what they had was what they had. Central Command had provided what they could, and the Triple D had pilfered what they could from other militias -- both friendly and not -- in an attempt to make this mission succeed. It had been three months in the planning, and now it came down to this day.
At one of the more cautious Officer's suggestion that perhaps they should take a few more days to surveil Div-N, Karl quickly said, "We go in tonight."
There was a moment of silence as some of the Officers waited for another word of caution, but the next man to speak returned to explaining some of the details. Soon enough, the meeting broke up after the standard warning not to speak about the mission outside this room. Karl reminded them, "Tripp Hanson was once one of ours. He had ears and eyes within our ranks. And above and beyond that, there are more than a few people who feel the same as he does … that Bravo Company and the Triple D supply Cent-Comm with two much and too many of our own resources to support Earth Defense Force … that we should keep more of what we create, salvage, pillage, and otherwise gather to make our own lives more comfortable … and worth living."
Ironically, Karl was one of those men. He, too, believed that their transfers of valuable resources to headquarters was essentially tribute to men -- and in some cases women -- who they themselves did very little for the little guys out here in the trenches, dying every day in an effort to repel the Tosk from Planet Earth.
He'd even heard rumors that Cent-Comm was secretly in negotiations with the alien invaders to allow them to remain on Earth permanently. The Tosk had devastated Earth and the human race in their initial attack, and -- if the intelligence reports were to be believed -- their continued attacks on and captures of free humans were causing the human population to continue to decline. Again, if you believed the reports coming out of Central Command.
But Karl believed the Human race would prevail. It had the home court advantage. And the Tosk -- while being Humanoid in many ways -- had not spent the last million years evolving to live on this rock in the middle of the void. Karl was a firm believer that someone, something -- God, Mother Nature, a tiny microscopic virus -- would see the end of the alien occupants. It might not happen in his life time. Hell, if things went the way Cent-Comm claimed they were, it might not happen during the life time of the human race. They might all be gone before the planet finally dispelled these demons.
All Karl knew was that he was going to do his best to keep the fight going while also getting a little something out of it for himself.
Which brought his thinking back to Marla and Barb. Karl dismissed the Officers Corps but asked Sergeant Richardson to remain behind. Once it was just him and Barb in the room, he asked her some routine, expected questions about her thoughts on the mission and her part in it. He followed up with some observations of her service with the Militia, again reminding her of her heroic attack on the Tosk and how no one would ever forget the danger in which she'd put herself to save other lives.
"You are familiar with the former bedmate of your predecessor, Sergeant Hoskins?" he asked suddenly, adding as if unsure himself, "I believe her name is Marla?"
He listened to her response, then continued, "It is an unfortunate fact and negative effect of losing one's bedmate as Marla has … that she will soon need to vacate her quarters … that she will need to find a way to contribute to the Cause … now that Sergeant Hoskins is no longer able to support her."
That was Karl's round about way of saying that since Marla was no longer fucking and sucking Big John to get what she needed, she'd have to find someone else with whom to do the same and find another place in which to do it.
Again, Karl listened to Barb's response. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he got quite forward with the continuing conversation. "It is my understanding that your sexual leanings are more toward someone like Sergeant Hoskin's widow than someone like Sergeant Hoskins himself."
He paused just a moment to allow Barb to respond if she wished. Regardless, he continued, "I want you to know that if this mission succeeds … if the team is able to return with the device we are after … if you return to us safely … once again a hero of the Cause … that you will be thanked with the appropriate benefits. A promotion … Staff Sergeant if you wish to leave active field assignments … Second Lieutenant if you wish to continue carrying a gun against the enemy."
Karl smiled, thinking about the Tosk and Div-N both and corrected, "Enemies, plural."
He turned to retrieve a bottle of whiskey that dated to before the invasion and, as he continued, poured two glasses. "A promotion of that sort would include a pay bump, of course. And private quarters. Staff Sergeants and LTs typically get a six by ten of their own..."
Karl looked directly to Barb as he continued, "... such as that in which Sergeant Hoskins and his soon-to-be-displaced bedmate shared."
He circled around his desk and offered the glass of very good and now very rare whiskey to Barb. "If you were able to successfully complete this mission, Sergeant … and if it were something you wished … the Widow Marla might not have to relocate at all."
He lifted his tumbler to his lips and studied the beautiful blonde's reaction to his suggestion. Karl wanted Marla for himself, of course. And it might have seemed counter-intuitive for him to be offering the woman of his lust filled dreams to another person, particularly another woman. But Karl had his reasons … which he very quickly laid out for Barb in a round about way.
"So … this preference of yours for other women," he said softly, studying her beautiful face before letting his gaze fall for a moment on the impressive bosom that no measure of uniform could ever hide. He looked back into her eyes again and asked very pointedly, "Is this something so firm and unbending … that you couldn't set it aside for an hour or so to ensure that both you and the Widow Marla could have a chance for a better life … together?"
The problem for Karl was the more part. They needed more! As he listened to the plan, he reminisced about his last infiltration prior to the Tosk invasion. He and his squad had penetrated a suspected Iranian atomic bomb factory with twice as much high tech gear, and there had only been 8 men on the ground. They'd also had another 32 men within 8 miles for quick response, 3 drones overhead for surveillance and quick missile response, and an entire division on standby in case the infiltration backfired and a war broke out.
But what they had was what they had. Central Command had provided what they could, and the Triple D had pilfered what they could from other militias -- both friendly and not -- in an attempt to make this mission succeed. It had been three months in the planning, and now it came down to this day.
At one of the more cautious Officer's suggestion that perhaps they should take a few more days to surveil Div-N, Karl quickly said, "We go in tonight."
There was a moment of silence as some of the Officers waited for another word of caution, but the next man to speak returned to explaining some of the details. Soon enough, the meeting broke up after the standard warning not to speak about the mission outside this room. Karl reminded them, "Tripp Hanson was once one of ours. He had ears and eyes within our ranks. And above and beyond that, there are more than a few people who feel the same as he does … that Bravo Company and the Triple D supply Cent-Comm with two much and too many of our own resources to support Earth Defense Force … that we should keep more of what we create, salvage, pillage, and otherwise gather to make our own lives more comfortable … and worth living."
Ironically, Karl was one of those men. He, too, believed that their transfers of valuable resources to headquarters was essentially tribute to men -- and in some cases women -- who they themselves did very little for the little guys out here in the trenches, dying every day in an effort to repel the Tosk from Planet Earth.
He'd even heard rumors that Cent-Comm was secretly in negotiations with the alien invaders to allow them to remain on Earth permanently. The Tosk had devastated Earth and the human race in their initial attack, and -- if the intelligence reports were to be believed -- their continued attacks on and captures of free humans were causing the human population to continue to decline. Again, if you believed the reports coming out of Central Command.
But Karl believed the Human race would prevail. It had the home court advantage. And the Tosk -- while being Humanoid in many ways -- had not spent the last million years evolving to live on this rock in the middle of the void. Karl was a firm believer that someone, something -- God, Mother Nature, a tiny microscopic virus -- would see the end of the alien occupants. It might not happen in his life time. Hell, if things went the way Cent-Comm claimed they were, it might not happen during the life time of the human race. They might all be gone before the planet finally dispelled these demons.
All Karl knew was that he was going to do his best to keep the fight going while also getting a little something out of it for himself.
Which brought his thinking back to Marla and Barb. Karl dismissed the Officers Corps but asked Sergeant Richardson to remain behind. Once it was just him and Barb in the room, he asked her some routine, expected questions about her thoughts on the mission and her part in it. He followed up with some observations of her service with the Militia, again reminding her of her heroic attack on the Tosk and how no one would ever forget the danger in which she'd put herself to save other lives.
"You are familiar with the former bedmate of your predecessor, Sergeant Hoskins?" he asked suddenly, adding as if unsure himself, "I believe her name is Marla?"
He listened to her response, then continued, "It is an unfortunate fact and negative effect of losing one's bedmate as Marla has … that she will soon need to vacate her quarters … that she will need to find a way to contribute to the Cause … now that Sergeant Hoskins is no longer able to support her."
That was Karl's round about way of saying that since Marla was no longer fucking and sucking Big John to get what she needed, she'd have to find someone else with whom to do the same and find another place in which to do it.
Again, Karl listened to Barb's response. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he got quite forward with the continuing conversation. "It is my understanding that your sexual leanings are more toward someone like Sergeant Hoskin's widow than someone like Sergeant Hoskins himself."
He paused just a moment to allow Barb to respond if she wished. Regardless, he continued, "I want you to know that if this mission succeeds … if the team is able to return with the device we are after … if you return to us safely … once again a hero of the Cause … that you will be thanked with the appropriate benefits. A promotion … Staff Sergeant if you wish to leave active field assignments … Second Lieutenant if you wish to continue carrying a gun against the enemy."
Karl smiled, thinking about the Tosk and Div-N both and corrected, "Enemies, plural."
He turned to retrieve a bottle of whiskey that dated to before the invasion and, as he continued, poured two glasses. "A promotion of that sort would include a pay bump, of course. And private quarters. Staff Sergeants and LTs typically get a six by ten of their own..."
Karl looked directly to Barb as he continued, "... such as that in which Sergeant Hoskins and his soon-to-be-displaced bedmate shared."
He circled around his desk and offered the glass of very good and now very rare whiskey to Barb. "If you were able to successfully complete this mission, Sergeant … and if it were something you wished … the Widow Marla might not have to relocate at all."
He lifted his tumbler to his lips and studied the beautiful blonde's reaction to his suggestion. Karl wanted Marla for himself, of course. And it might have seemed counter-intuitive for him to be offering the woman of his lust filled dreams to another person, particularly another woman. But Karl had his reasons … which he very quickly laid out for Barb in a round about way.
"So … this preference of yours for other women," he said softly, studying her beautiful face before letting his gaze fall for a moment on the impressive bosom that no measure of uniform could ever hide. He looked back into her eyes again and asked very pointedly, "Is this something so firm and unbending … that you couldn't set it aside for an hour or so to ensure that both you and the Widow Marla could have a chance for a better life … together?"
TooDamnCute4U
Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2017
- Posts
- 72
Barb found herself becoming nervous as the other officers departed, leaving her alone with the Company's Commanding Officer. Major King was the real thing, a true warrior. He'd been a nationally recognized hero before the Tosk while -- if Barb recalled correctly -- only in his mid-30s. And since the invasion, he'd had successes against the alien and human enemies that should have propelled him to the highest positions of Central Command.
She wasn't entirely sure why he was still here, living in the basement of a collapsed apartment building. Barb had been told that he remained her to continue the good fight. Others had told her he'd made enemies amongst the leaders of EDF. She didn't know and she didn't care. What she did know about Major Karl King was that he got things done and took good care of his people.
She didn't fully understand how he did things, though. But she was about to find out.
"You are familiar with the former bedmate of your predecessor, Sergeant Hoskins? I believe her name is Marla?"
Barb's stomach rolled at the sudden turn in the conversation, and she feared that the heat in her face came with a blush that the man might have noticed, even in the lower artificial light of his underground working space. She responded simply, "Yes, sir. We've met. I … I expressed my condolences to her yesterday afternoon."
He unnecessarily recapped the realities of Big John's loss to his bedmate. Then he shocked Barb with, "It is my understanding that your sexual leanings are more toward someone like Sergeant Hoskin's widow than someone like Sergeant Hoskins himself."
Barb's eyes widened with concern and she stood a bit taller than she had been, stiffening at Karl referring to her preference for pussy over cock. She didn't know how to respond. As it turned out, she didn't have to as her CO continued onward. He shocked her by essentially explaining that if she and the team completed the mission successfully, Barb could have Marla as her new bedmate. She couldn't contain the smile that forced the edges of her lips just a touch wider.
The mission was dangerous. The mission had a high probability of failure. But the Major couldn't have been clearer about what Barb would gain if she came back alive and, once again, a hero.
Then, he got real clear about what he wanted from Barb to even consider letting her have a chance at this new dream life of hers. Her stomach turned over at his not-so-subtle suggestion. The slight smile that had spread her lips in delight disappeared. Her heart pounded anxiously. She replayed his last words in her mind, ...that both you and the Widow Marla could have a chance for a better life … together?"
Barb had been with men before, in the past. The last time a cock had been inside her had been shortly after the invasion. Ironically -- or maybe not so much so -- it had been due to a situation much like this one. Barb had wanted something badly from one person, and another person who could make that happened wanted something from her.
There was precedent.
And that made what Barb did next so much easier to swallow.
"Not that firm or unbending, sir," she said. She backed a bit, looked over her shoulder to the door, then turned to go shut and lock it. Turning back to Karl and hesitating for a moment to screw up her courage, Barb slowly unbuttoned her uniform's jacket and let it slide from her shoulders. Her generous bosom was immediately on amble display beneath a thin, poly-blend blouse with a scalloped neck line. It was anything but military issue, of course, just something she'd found in a bombed out clothing store on a recent patrol and brought back to replace the old, stained, raggedy tee shirt she'd worn to death.
She sat on the arm of a small couch sitting against the storage unit's now nicely decorated wall. Pulling loose the bowed strings of one after another, Barb stepped out of the boots for which she'd traded a full case of canned beets and half a gallon of fresh goat's milk just weeks earlier. It had been quite an investment, but the pain in her feet and legs from having worn poorly fitting shoes had warranted the cost.
Barb stood again, loosed her belt, and let her camouflage trousers fall to gather about her ankles. She slid off the men's boxers she wore for warmth and comfort to reveal a pair of baby blue boy shorts that, again, were anything but military issue.
She'd been trying to get through this without hesitating, without showing her building fear. And loathing. Barb would never have expected this from Major Karl King, Commander, Bravo Company. And yet here he was watching her disrobe in anticipation of finding delight within her simply because he had the power to give her what she wanted. Or not.
Barb took hold of the lacy bottom of her blouse and in a swift motion peeled it up over her head. She stood before Karl in less than she'd been seen by a man in years. And although she was committed to do as he wanted, Barb was trembling deep to the core with anger, fear, and disappointment.
"Promise me, Major," she said in barely over a whisper as she reached to her back and popped loose the bra straining to hold in the bosom that had been the source of so many bad nicknames and jokes since she was a young teen. She stepped closer to her commanding officer as she continued with a hesitant demand, "Promise me that … that if I don't make it back … back to Marla..."
She reached to her hips, paused, then pulled the boy shorts off her hips. They fell away and she stepped out of them. Barb was naked before Karl now. And having hoped that she might get lucky and spend some personal time with the recently freed Marla, she'd taken the time to shave her body from arm pits to ankles, something that had taken her hours and three disposable razors so as to not cut herself so much that she bled to death. In the end, she still cut herself a half dozen times.
Barb continued, "Please, sir … promise me that you will give Marla anything and everything I am owed … that you feel I am owed … for my sacrifice."
By sacrifice, Barb was insinuating her sacrifice for giving her life in the course of the mission. But she also wanted Karl to know that she meant the sacrifice of her body to him here and now as well. She stood before him tall, her beautiful, proud bosom full before his eyes as she reached her hands out to begin unbuckling his clothes as well.
She wasn't entirely sure why he was still here, living in the basement of a collapsed apartment building. Barb had been told that he remained her to continue the good fight. Others had told her he'd made enemies amongst the leaders of EDF. She didn't know and she didn't care. What she did know about Major Karl King was that he got things done and took good care of his people.
She didn't fully understand how he did things, though. But she was about to find out.
"You are familiar with the former bedmate of your predecessor, Sergeant Hoskins? I believe her name is Marla?"
Barb's stomach rolled at the sudden turn in the conversation, and she feared that the heat in her face came with a blush that the man might have noticed, even in the lower artificial light of his underground working space. She responded simply, "Yes, sir. We've met. I … I expressed my condolences to her yesterday afternoon."
He unnecessarily recapped the realities of Big John's loss to his bedmate. Then he shocked Barb with, "It is my understanding that your sexual leanings are more toward someone like Sergeant Hoskin's widow than someone like Sergeant Hoskins himself."
Barb's eyes widened with concern and she stood a bit taller than she had been, stiffening at Karl referring to her preference for pussy over cock. She didn't know how to respond. As it turned out, she didn't have to as her CO continued onward. He shocked her by essentially explaining that if she and the team completed the mission successfully, Barb could have Marla as her new bedmate. She couldn't contain the smile that forced the edges of her lips just a touch wider.
The mission was dangerous. The mission had a high probability of failure. But the Major couldn't have been clearer about what Barb would gain if she came back alive and, once again, a hero.
Then, he got real clear about what he wanted from Barb to even consider letting her have a chance at this new dream life of hers. Her stomach turned over at his not-so-subtle suggestion. The slight smile that had spread her lips in delight disappeared. Her heart pounded anxiously. She replayed his last words in her mind, ...that both you and the Widow Marla could have a chance for a better life … together?"
Barb had been with men before, in the past. The last time a cock had been inside her had been shortly after the invasion. Ironically -- or maybe not so much so -- it had been due to a situation much like this one. Barb had wanted something badly from one person, and another person who could make that happened wanted something from her.
There was precedent.
And that made what Barb did next so much easier to swallow.
"Not that firm or unbending, sir," she said. She backed a bit, looked over her shoulder to the door, then turned to go shut and lock it. Turning back to Karl and hesitating for a moment to screw up her courage, Barb slowly unbuttoned her uniform's jacket and let it slide from her shoulders. Her generous bosom was immediately on amble display beneath a thin, poly-blend blouse with a scalloped neck line. It was anything but military issue, of course, just something she'd found in a bombed out clothing store on a recent patrol and brought back to replace the old, stained, raggedy tee shirt she'd worn to death.
She sat on the arm of a small couch sitting against the storage unit's now nicely decorated wall. Pulling loose the bowed strings of one after another, Barb stepped out of the boots for which she'd traded a full case of canned beets and half a gallon of fresh goat's milk just weeks earlier. It had been quite an investment, but the pain in her feet and legs from having worn poorly fitting shoes had warranted the cost.
Barb stood again, loosed her belt, and let her camouflage trousers fall to gather about her ankles. She slid off the men's boxers she wore for warmth and comfort to reveal a pair of baby blue boy shorts that, again, were anything but military issue.
She'd been trying to get through this without hesitating, without showing her building fear. And loathing. Barb would never have expected this from Major Karl King, Commander, Bravo Company. And yet here he was watching her disrobe in anticipation of finding delight within her simply because he had the power to give her what she wanted. Or not.
Barb took hold of the lacy bottom of her blouse and in a swift motion peeled it up over her head. She stood before Karl in less than she'd been seen by a man in years. And although she was committed to do as he wanted, Barb was trembling deep to the core with anger, fear, and disappointment.
"Promise me, Major," she said in barely over a whisper as she reached to her back and popped loose the bra straining to hold in the bosom that had been the source of so many bad nicknames and jokes since she was a young teen. She stepped closer to her commanding officer as she continued with a hesitant demand, "Promise me that … that if I don't make it back … back to Marla..."
She reached to her hips, paused, then pulled the boy shorts off her hips. They fell away and she stepped out of them. Barb was naked before Karl now. And having hoped that she might get lucky and spend some personal time with the recently freed Marla, she'd taken the time to shave her body from arm pits to ankles, something that had taken her hours and three disposable razors so as to not cut herself so much that she bled to death. In the end, she still cut herself a half dozen times.
Barb continued, "Please, sir … promise me that you will give Marla anything and everything I am owed … that you feel I am owed … for my sacrifice."
By sacrifice, Barb was insinuating her sacrifice for giving her life in the course of the mission. But she also wanted Karl to know that she meant the sacrifice of her body to him here and now as well. She stood before him tall, her beautiful, proud bosom full before his eyes as she reached her hands out to begin unbuckling his clothes as well.
RobbieRand
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jul 28, 2016
- Posts
- 302
Karl's lips widened a bit at Bomber's confirmation of her willingness to explore other sexual avenues with, "Not that firm or unbending, sir."
He watched in silence and utter delight as the young beauty began shedding her clothes. Barb was far more erotically beautiful than Karl had imagined. He'd known a lot of beautiful women in his years, many of them here before and after he'd taken command of the Triple D.
But something about Barb just made his cock throb with a never before known anticipation. Maybe it was that I'm so good I can turn a lesbian back from the Dark Side mentality. But then, maybe not. It wasn't as though the blonde bombshell was doing this because she hungered for cock. Barb hungered for Marla, enough so that she was willing to let her CO fuck her the night before she potentially died in a fruitless mission to steal an electronic box that might not have any worth at all to its captors.
Barb was soon fully nude before Karl and then unfastening his own clothes. He let her free his pants from his hips but then took hold of her wrists. He moved her back a bit to give his eyes one last long ogle at her unbelievable female form. Then he stepped away from his desk, turned her toward it, and put her into position over its edge. Karl took a long moment, possibly a couple of minutes -- who was counting -- to simply caress his hands over her perfection. He found those amazing tits with gently groping hands. He pressed his now freed and fully stiffened cock between her firm buttock cheeks, sliding it up and down her with a soft moan of appreciation. He reached around before her thighs, then moved the hand behind her instead, to find wetness at the meeting of her thighs.
Then, after he'd grasped his shaft and put it to her hole, Karl then grasped Barb's hips tightly and made a promise he had no intention of keeping in the way Barb asked for it but in a very different way that served him, "Yes, I will ensure that Marla is well cared for. You can trust me … Lieutenant."
And with that, Karl shoved his cock forward, penetrating Bomber's tight and resistant pussy with a deep grunt of combined exertion and pleasure.
He watched in silence and utter delight as the young beauty began shedding her clothes. Barb was far more erotically beautiful than Karl had imagined. He'd known a lot of beautiful women in his years, many of them here before and after he'd taken command of the Triple D.
But something about Barb just made his cock throb with a never before known anticipation. Maybe it was that I'm so good I can turn a lesbian back from the Dark Side mentality. But then, maybe not. It wasn't as though the blonde bombshell was doing this because she hungered for cock. Barb hungered for Marla, enough so that she was willing to let her CO fuck her the night before she potentially died in a fruitless mission to steal an electronic box that might not have any worth at all to its captors.
Barb was soon fully nude before Karl and then unfastening his own clothes. He let her free his pants from his hips but then took hold of her wrists. He moved her back a bit to give his eyes one last long ogle at her unbelievable female form. Then he stepped away from his desk, turned her toward it, and put her into position over its edge. Karl took a long moment, possibly a couple of minutes -- who was counting -- to simply caress his hands over her perfection. He found those amazing tits with gently groping hands. He pressed his now freed and fully stiffened cock between her firm buttock cheeks, sliding it up and down her with a soft moan of appreciation. He reached around before her thighs, then moved the hand behind her instead, to find wetness at the meeting of her thighs.
Then, after he'd grasped his shaft and put it to her hole, Karl then grasped Barb's hips tightly and made a promise he had no intention of keeping in the way Barb asked for it but in a very different way that served him, "Yes, I will ensure that Marla is well cared for. You can trust me … Lieutenant."
And with that, Karl shoved his cock forward, penetrating Bomber's tight and resistant pussy with a deep grunt of combined exertion and pleasure.
TooDamnCute4U
Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2017
- Posts
- 72
The Major didn't seem to notice the trembling in Barb's hands as she worked the bucket of his belt and then the top button and zipper of his dungarees loose. Or, maybe he just didn't care. He was getting what he wanted from her, possibly in a way that maybe he hadn't even expected. After all, Barb had made it so easy.
Later, she would wonder to herself whether or not Karl had even meant for them to have sex then and there. Had he actually meant that once she returned, they were to become frequent lovers for Barb to maintain her new and improved benefits? She would never know now that she was slipping his trousers off his hips.
Before she got any farther, though, the CO had hold of her wrists. He moved her away from him, and for a moment Barb was certain that she had in fact misunderstood. She instantly felt like a fool. She'd stripped before her CO and begun to seduce him. She would be drummed out of the Militia, stripped of her guaranteed benefits, and reduced to washing uniforms and scavenging through rubble ... and sucking cock.
But Karl instead took a long, appreciative look at her. Barb hated that a man was looking at her like this, particularly this one in the way this had come about. Despite that, though, Barb wanted him to be happy with what he was seeing. She straightened her posture again, causing her generous bosom to press out for his inspection. Her nipples were once again hard and thrusting forward. Unlike with Marla the day before, this time it was due to the chill in the air and the uncertainty in what was going to happen to her.
What was going to happen to her quickly lost it uncertainty. The Major leaned her over his deck and began pawing at her body in a way that sent a shiver up Barb's spine. She hated the feel of him on her breasts, her hips, and then inside her as he slipped first one, then two fingers between her labia.
If felt good.
And she hated that. She was, in essence, being voluntarily raped. Could those two words be spoken together as an adverb and verb? No matter. Barb fought to remind herself that this was about being with Marla while simultaneously trying not to enjoy the feel of Karl's wet finger toying with her swollen clitoris. She tried not to let Karl know what he was doing to her. She tried not to moan. But a slight one escaped. Then another. She tried not to move with his manipulations. But again she failed. Barb arched her back a bit, then moved one foot an inch left, then another inch to open herself up to his probing hand. At one point when his fingers delved deep into her, her muscles clamped down on him and refused to let go. It was just her body's instinctive, unconscious reaction. Wasn't it? Or, was she honestly afraid he would stop.
I hate you! her brain screamed within the confines of her skull. I hate you and all men like you!
Barb didn't hate men. She actually liked them a lot. Just not when they were sticking their fingers uninvited inside her unwilling pussy. No, her hatred was for this man at this moment. And that hate was even more deep and hot because she was enjoying what he was doing to her.
"Yes, I will ensure that Marla is well cared for, Karl said as Barb felt him pressing the head of his cock at her now thoroughly wet hole. "You can trust me … Lieutenant."
Barb caught the implication of the promotion that was being given her for what she was giving the Major. But before she could really think on it, Karl grasped her hips almost painfully in fiercely wrapped fingers and rammed himself inside her. Barb's entire body was wracked by instant pain, and she cried out in agony. She grasped the edge of the deck in one hand as he was her waist and reached the other back instinctively to push Karl away. He didn't budge, though, and Barb only sunk her fingertips and their modest nails into his hips as a reaction to what he'd done to her.
She released another cry when he pushed more of his length inside her. Her body had instinctively prepared itself for this invasion by flooding her vagina with a generous dosage of lubricant. But that didn't change the fact that Barb hadn't a cock -- or any object other than her own fingers -- inside her in more than 3 years. She cried out in pain at each of a half dozen violent thrusts until she felt Karl's groin fully against her buttocks and the back of her thighs. By now, she'd slumped down to the deck, her arms bracketing her bosom, her clenched fists together at the meeting of her neck and clavicles.
She was ready for the Major now, her muscles having begun relaxing to accept him. But then something came to her and she looked back over her shoulder. "Please, sir. Don't cum in me. Don't cum inside me."
Barb was at the height of her fertility. This was the worse time ever for her to have a man releasing his seed inside her. She hadn't really thought about it until this moment. After all, she'd had a few other things on her mind since having her CO tell he wanted to fuck her. In the pre-invasion days, she would have had lots of options to deal with an untimely fuck like this. Of course, back when the Tosk arrived, she'd only been 16 and she'd already come to the conclusion that she preferred other girls in her bed rather than boys or men.
"Please, Major," she begged in a whisper as he went to work inside her. "I don't want a baby inside me. I want to be in the militia. I want to be in your militia."
She didn't mean that last part, obviously. Right about now, she'd happily join those who would like to see Karl King's Bravo company crushed by Tripp Hanson's Div-N. But Barb had Marla to think about. And right now the best thing she could hope for was to please the Major in a way that ensured she and the brunette beauty remained together for the foreseeable future.
Barb turned her face away from Karl and braced herself for what was too come.
Later, she would wonder to herself whether or not Karl had even meant for them to have sex then and there. Had he actually meant that once she returned, they were to become frequent lovers for Barb to maintain her new and improved benefits? She would never know now that she was slipping his trousers off his hips.
Before she got any farther, though, the CO had hold of her wrists. He moved her away from him, and for a moment Barb was certain that she had in fact misunderstood. She instantly felt like a fool. She'd stripped before her CO and begun to seduce him. She would be drummed out of the Militia, stripped of her guaranteed benefits, and reduced to washing uniforms and scavenging through rubble ... and sucking cock.
But Karl instead took a long, appreciative look at her. Barb hated that a man was looking at her like this, particularly this one in the way this had come about. Despite that, though, Barb wanted him to be happy with what he was seeing. She straightened her posture again, causing her generous bosom to press out for his inspection. Her nipples were once again hard and thrusting forward. Unlike with Marla the day before, this time it was due to the chill in the air and the uncertainty in what was going to happen to her.
What was going to happen to her quickly lost it uncertainty. The Major leaned her over his deck and began pawing at her body in a way that sent a shiver up Barb's spine. She hated the feel of him on her breasts, her hips, and then inside her as he slipped first one, then two fingers between her labia.
If felt good.
And she hated that. She was, in essence, being voluntarily raped. Could those two words be spoken together as an adverb and verb? No matter. Barb fought to remind herself that this was about being with Marla while simultaneously trying not to enjoy the feel of Karl's wet finger toying with her swollen clitoris. She tried not to let Karl know what he was doing to her. She tried not to moan. But a slight one escaped. Then another. She tried not to move with his manipulations. But again she failed. Barb arched her back a bit, then moved one foot an inch left, then another inch to open herself up to his probing hand. At one point when his fingers delved deep into her, her muscles clamped down on him and refused to let go. It was just her body's instinctive, unconscious reaction. Wasn't it? Or, was she honestly afraid he would stop.
I hate you! her brain screamed within the confines of her skull. I hate you and all men like you!
Barb didn't hate men. She actually liked them a lot. Just not when they were sticking their fingers uninvited inside her unwilling pussy. No, her hatred was for this man at this moment. And that hate was even more deep and hot because she was enjoying what he was doing to her.
"Yes, I will ensure that Marla is well cared for, Karl said as Barb felt him pressing the head of his cock at her now thoroughly wet hole. "You can trust me … Lieutenant."
Barb caught the implication of the promotion that was being given her for what she was giving the Major. But before she could really think on it, Karl grasped her hips almost painfully in fiercely wrapped fingers and rammed himself inside her. Barb's entire body was wracked by instant pain, and she cried out in agony. She grasped the edge of the deck in one hand as he was her waist and reached the other back instinctively to push Karl away. He didn't budge, though, and Barb only sunk her fingertips and their modest nails into his hips as a reaction to what he'd done to her.
She released another cry when he pushed more of his length inside her. Her body had instinctively prepared itself for this invasion by flooding her vagina with a generous dosage of lubricant. But that didn't change the fact that Barb hadn't a cock -- or any object other than her own fingers -- inside her in more than 3 years. She cried out in pain at each of a half dozen violent thrusts until she felt Karl's groin fully against her buttocks and the back of her thighs. By now, she'd slumped down to the deck, her arms bracketing her bosom, her clenched fists together at the meeting of her neck and clavicles.
She was ready for the Major now, her muscles having begun relaxing to accept him. But then something came to her and she looked back over her shoulder. "Please, sir. Don't cum in me. Don't cum inside me."
Barb was at the height of her fertility. This was the worse time ever for her to have a man releasing his seed inside her. She hadn't really thought about it until this moment. After all, she'd had a few other things on her mind since having her CO tell he wanted to fuck her. In the pre-invasion days, she would have had lots of options to deal with an untimely fuck like this. Of course, back when the Tosk arrived, she'd only been 16 and she'd already come to the conclusion that she preferred other girls in her bed rather than boys or men.
"Please, Major," she begged in a whisper as he went to work inside her. "I don't want a baby inside me. I want to be in the militia. I want to be in your militia."
She didn't mean that last part, obviously. Right about now, she'd happily join those who would like to see Karl King's Bravo company crushed by Tripp Hanson's Div-N. But Barb had Marla to think about. And right now the best thing she could hope for was to please the Major in a way that ensured she and the brunette beauty remained together for the foreseeable future.
Barb turned her face away from Karl and braced herself for what was too come.
AmyRoberts
Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2016
- Posts
- 341
Deleted.
Last edited:
RobbieRand
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jul 28, 2016
- Posts
- 302
Karl rarely if ever went more than 24 hours without getting his rocks off inside one woman or another. But Barb was so tight around his shaft. And she was a lesbian by nature, which curiously added unconsciously to his desire to spill his seed within her. There was just something so … oh, was taboo the right word? How about dominating?
None of these words were going through his head now, of course. The only thought going through Karl's mind was that his orgasm was approaching more rapidly than he'd expected, it was imminent, and he had to make a quick decision about whether or not he--
And then, the decision was moot. His grunts of exertion gave way to one final long groan of deep seated ecstasy as his cock jerked with force inside the blonde's tight pussy. Rather than pull out, Karl grasped Barb's hip tighter and pushed as deeply as he could. His balls twitched again and again as he emptied inside her, his upper body falling slowly forward, surrendering to the euphoria. As the last jerks of his cock were occurring, Karl's weight pressed down upon Barb's backside.
He lay there for a long moment enjoying the most satisfying orgasm he'd reached in quite some time. Then, pressing his hands the desk to rise off Barb, he very unceremoniously pulled his cock out of her and slowly set to putting the unfastened portion of his uniform back together.
Unless something caused him to react differently, Karl would thank Barb with a rather less than sincere tone, reassure her that Marla would be taken care of no matter what, and wish her well on tonight's mission.
None of these words were going through his head now, of course. The only thought going through Karl's mind was that his orgasm was approaching more rapidly than he'd expected, it was imminent, and he had to make a quick decision about whether or not he--
And then, the decision was moot. His grunts of exertion gave way to one final long groan of deep seated ecstasy as his cock jerked with force inside the blonde's tight pussy. Rather than pull out, Karl grasped Barb's hip tighter and pushed as deeply as he could. His balls twitched again and again as he emptied inside her, his upper body falling slowly forward, surrendering to the euphoria. As the last jerks of his cock were occurring, Karl's weight pressed down upon Barb's backside.
He lay there for a long moment enjoying the most satisfying orgasm he'd reached in quite some time. Then, pressing his hands the desk to rise off Barb, he very unceremoniously pulled his cock out of her and slowly set to putting the unfastened portion of his uniform back together.
Unless something caused him to react differently, Karl would thank Barb with a rather less than sincere tone, reassure her that Marla would be taken care of no matter what, and wish her well on tonight's mission.
