Annabelle the Dominant Model

Annabelle smiled as the lights focused on her. The sexy model went into her well-practiced series of poses as the photoshoot began. Her outfit consisted of low-cut, tight white pants, a brown leather belt, black leather boots, and a white sports bra. Being half Filipina and half European, she had inherited the best of both worlds, with beautiful, darkly tanned brown skin and a nice height of 5’8″. At 128 pounds, she had a slender but muscular body. Her hard six-pack abs were visible in the gap between pants and sports bra, and her tanned, toned, well-developed arms were accented by the studded black leather bracelets she wore on each of her strong wrists. Her breasts were small, firm, round 34B’s.

She turned her head, flipping her long silky black hair, and struck another pose. “Perfect, Annabelle,” said the photographer. “You really know how to work it.” The hot model gave a smile in response that was the perfect balance between confidence and gratitude.

“We’re going for the athletic look here, so I’d like to finish with a couple of action shots,” said the photographer. “Can you do a cartwheel?”

Annabelle winked. “I can do better than that.” With that, she suddenly executed a perfect cheerleader-style standing back handspring.

The entire film crew stared, then applauded. “Whoa,” said the photographer. “When I’m ready.”

Annabelle gave a charming laugh. When he gave the signal, she went into action again, this time doing three standing back handsprings in a row, then performing a one-arm cartwheel, a front handspring, and a roundoff back handspring. The crew applauded again.

“Well, I guess that’s a wrap,” said the photographer. “I look forward to working with you again, Miss Annabelle.”

As the crewmen began packing up their equipment, Annabelle chatted with them in the flirtatious but classy manner she was so skilled at pulling off. Suddenly, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Peeking out from behind a barrier was a homely male face, staring directly at her with a look of sexual interest. It reminded her of that episode of Survivor 23 where Brandon was peeping on Mikayla from the bushes. When the peeper realized she was looking back at him, his face quickly retreated behind the wall.

Angered by his creepy behavior, she decided to teach him a lesson. She said her goodbyes to the crew, then picked up her things and started towards the exit. As soon as she was out of everyone’s sight, she doubled back, heading directly for the spot the pervert had been occupying. Hearing footsteps retreating in the distance, she followed them. Rounding a corner, she saw him just entering the men’s bathroom. Anger rose inside her. The little shit was probably going to jerk off to her.

She hurried down the hall and silently entered the restroom. Once inside, Annabelle quickly checked all the stalls to make sure no one else was there. There was only a single pair of feet in the far stall. She grinned wickedly. Perfect. She hung a conveniently located CLOSED – OUT OF ORDER sign on the bathroom door, then locked it from the inside.

She began advancing towards the far stall. At that point, a low moaning started up. “Oh, Annabelle, baby,” said the male voice. “Oh, Annabelle.”

She let out a growl, then kicked down the stall door with her big black boot. “Did you want me, honey?” she sneered at the man inside.

The pervert was seated on the toilet, his pants and underwear down around his ankles and his rock-hard cock in his hand. Caught with his pants down, literally, he stared in shock as the object of his degenerate lust appeared right before his eyes. “Miss Annabelle! What…How…”

She smirked. “I saw you peeping on me from behind that wall. So I decided to follow you. When I saw you go in here I figured you were going to wank off your nasty little pecker. Looks like I was right.” She crossed her brown arms, which were surprisingly big for a slim woman, in front of her. The leather bracelets covering the thinnest parts of her wrists and forearms had the effect of making her arms look even bigger. He trembled in fear and humiliation. “Well, go on and finish,” she challenged him.

“What?! But I…”

“What’s the matter? Not man enough? Maybe you want some help.” With that, Annabelle grabbed his boner with her right hand and began giving him a rough hand job, squeezing hard.

“Aaaaaahhhhhh,” he moaned, first in pleasure, then in pain, as she increased the strength of her grip. “You’re so strong… hurting me…”

She laughed. “I’m a girl, and I’m stronger than you. I thought you were supposed to be a man.” She held out her free arm and compared it to his. She knew her wrist measurement – it was a little over six and a half inches, which was big for a woman, especially a slender woman like her, but still smaller than the average man’s. But the pervert was not average, and Annabelle’s muscular, heavily developed, dark brown forearm with prominent veins was clearly thicker than his pale, thin, weak one. “Your arms are too weak and girly to ever squeeze your cock the way I’m doing.” She backhanded him across the face several times with her left hand.

Despite the blows, or perhaps because of them, he suddenly came violently, shooting a massive load of white semen right onto her deeply tanned forearm. She looked down at the mess in disgust. “You little fucker. You’re one of those loser schmoe males who’s turned on by stronger women, aren’t you. Well, do something useful for once and lick it off.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Lick your faggoty cum off my forearm, before I beat you into doing it.”

“Fuck that shit, bitch,” he growled, suddenly turning angry and aggressive. “I ain’t no fag, and I ain’t doing that shit.”

Annabelle suddenly smashed her left fist into his nose, breaking it. She smiled coldly as he cried out in pain and the blood began bubbling. “Like hell you aren’t.” She rolled her dark brown eyes. “You’re probably so far in the closet, you’re in fucking Narnia.”

The pervert spat in fury. Standing up, he swung his fist at her elegant, high-cheekboned face, but she dodged it easily. He then tried a lower punch aimed at her stomach. Seeing it coming, she tensed her abs. He let out a howl as the completely ineffective attack bounced off her steel-hard dark brown wall of abdominal muscle. She laughed in his face. “Here’s how to do an ab attack.” As she spoke, her knee shot up, ramming hard into his gut. He doubled over in agony, clutching his stomach as he tried to breathe.

“Are you ready to clean up the mess you made, cocksucker?” she demanded.

He glared up at her, then began looking from side to side wildly. Annabelle laughed. “Are you going to cry for help?” she taunted her male victim. “Do you need someone to protect you from a girl? Like, seriously, what are you going to say? That you were jerking off to a female model, who then beat you up?” The perv hung his head in shame.

“You do not want to fuck with a mean bitch like me. Ever,” Annabelle continued. She punched him in the eye, turning it black. Then, in a display of cruel feminine dominance, she kicked him in the jaw with her big black boot, breaking it and knocking loose two of his teeth. She followed that up by smashing her knee into his groin.

“Okay, Mistress Annabelle!” he cried when he finally recovered from her devastating strikes. “I’ll lick my cum off your arm!”

She held out her thick, dark brown forearm. “Then get to licking, bitch. And make sure to swallow it all. I’m sure you’re used to swallowing, just like I bet you’re used to being the catcher.”

Sobbing in shame and total humiliation, the wanker began licking up his own cum, tears flowing down his ugly face as he choked it down. Annabelle laughed mockingly throughout the whole process, enjoying the total dominance she had over him, as well as a feeling of revenge on all the men who had treated her as a sex object. When he was finished, she ordered, “Take off your clothes.”

He hesitated. She made a fist. That was all the motivation he needed and he quickly stripped naked. She gathered up his clothes and tossed them behind her. “Sit back down on the toilet.”

He obeyed immediately. Annabelle crossed her muscular arms in front of her. “I’m taking your clothes and leaving you here nude as punishment for you thinking I was just a piece of meat without feelings for you to lust over. I never want to see you again. On the remote chance you aren’t fired for being naked at work, you’d better quit as soon as you get out of here, because if you’re still here when I come back for my next photoshoot, I will use you to redefine the words pain and humiliation. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress Annabelle.” He hung his head submissively, a broken shell of a man.

“And one more thing. Will you admit you’re a closeted fag?”

He hesitated only a second before replying, “Yes, Mistress Annabelle, I’m a closeted fag.”

Her full, pouty lips curled upward in triumph. She really didn’t care if he was one or not, she just wanted the satisfaction of knowing she could make him say it. “Good. And also, good night.” With that, she suddenly kneed him in the face with all her strength, knocking him out.

She wiped the blood off of the top of her knee-high black leather boot, then took one last look at the scene of destruction she had created. She nodded in satisfaction, picked up the pervert’s clothes, removed the sign from the bathroom door, and stole away quietly, making sure no one saw her.

Out in the parking lot, Annabelle climbed behind the wheel of her black BMW. She fixed her hair in the rearview mirror and put on her sunglasses before driving off. A few more years of modeling and she would have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life. She thought of the poor suckers slaving away week in and week out at their nine-to-five jobs and smirked. She would be able to retire before she turned thirty. The only bad part about modeling was putting up with the perverts who ogled and harassed her. But even that shouldn’t be a problem, she thought. She had beaten and destroyed one perv. She could do the same to others.

She smiled.


My Wife The Assassin

My name is Brett. I’m 28 years old and married. My wife and I live in a nice two-story house in a quiet suburb of Reno, Nevada. Sounds pretty normal so far, right? Well, it’s about to get abnormal. My wife is a professional assassin.

Her name is Deborah and she’s the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman – confident, smart, beautiful, powerful, athletic, and feminine. I consider myself the luckiest guy in the world to be married to her.

Debbie is 32 years old, but looks more like 25 – when she’s in her “normal” look, anyway. (As a professional killer, she often plays different roles to get close to her target, and she can play anything from a ditzy 18-year-old girl to a 40-year-old soccer mom). She has long brown hair that goes down to the middle of her back, blue eyes, an elegant and high-cheekboned face, and a deep, healthy tan. Her long muscular legs, slim waist with six-pack abs, medium-sized and steel-hard ass, and ultra-toned arms all drive me wild. At 5’10” and 140 pounds, she towers over my 5’6″, 135-pound frame, especially when she wears her knee-high black leather boots with razor-sharp four inch high heels.

People do stare at us when we’re out in public. I guess they assume the only reason a woman like her would want a guy like me is that I’m a rich guy. But I’m not. I’m an IT specialist for a small company, and I make about 50 grand a year. Debbie makes much more than that with her… line of work. Depending on what kind of contracts she gets, she can pull in anything from half a million to 1.5 million a year, and all of it tax-free. It’s her money that’s allowed us to pay cash for our house, buy expensive cars, go on Hawaiian vacations, etc.

So our relationship is almost completely non-traditional. My wife is taller than me, stronger than me, makes more money than me, is more comfortable with violence than me, and is even older than me. A lot of guys – dumb guys – would let that intimidate them and make them feel insecure. But I don’t feel insecure at all. I mean, come on. I’m married to a beautiful, athletic, smart, rich woman. What guy with a functioning brain wouldn’t want that?

Now, just so there are no misconceptions: Do I still find myself in awe of her capabilities, even after knowing her for years? Yes, I do. Does she usually take the lead during sex? Absolutely, and we both like it that way. But do we have one of those weird relationships where she pushes me around or humiliates me or makes me do shit like eat bugs or wear women’s clothes? Definitely not. We have a passionate and healthy love for each other based on mutual respect, and though she’s strong enough to easily hurt me, she would never do that. We occasionally play sex games where she ties me up and spanks me, but we both strongly believe that that kind of activity should be restricted to the bedroom. At any rate, if we got too weird it might lead to attention from the neighbors, and as a professional assassin Debbie certainly doesn’t want that.

So why would a woman who could have any man she wanted get involved with a guy like me? Well, in the first place, we have a symbiotic relationship. Sometimes she needs someone with expert computer skills to help track down a target. That’s where I come in. And the hacking experience I get from tracking Debbie’s future victims helps me in my work, enabling me to better prevent hacker attacks on my company’s network.

Also, most guys don’t know the proper way to react around a woman like Debbie, and she hates that. When they found out the full range of her physical capabilities, most of the guys she dated would either become insecure and withdrawn, get aggressive and try to out-macho her (they always failed), or start acting like she was a dominatrix for hire and offer to humiliate themselves. While she enjoys being dominant, she also wanted a stable long-term relationship that had more meaning than just S&M sex.

We are quite different from each other. In addition to what I’ve already mentioned, Debbie is amazingly athletic. She was a three-sport varsity athlete in high school, on the softball, volleyball, and gymnastics teams. She’s excellent at doing back flips despite her height. She also received a full softball scholarship to the college of her choice. I, on the other hand, have never been good at sports. When I played baseball with the other neighborhood kids as a boy, the two team captains would do rock-paper-scissors to see who would pick first, and whichever captain lost would invariably moan, “Oh, no! I’m stuck with Brett!” And when I had completed the mandatory two years of physical education in high school, I remember jumping for joy (not very high).

But we have some similar interests too. We both enjoy traveling, going to hockey games, reality TV shows, and science fiction. And at the end of the day, at least in our case, opposites do attract. How did we meet? Well, that’s material for another story.

My wife has turned one of the smaller upstairs bedrooms into what’s basically her secret assassin room. Pretty much anything related to her kills, she keeps in there. She’s told me not to go in there for my own safety. If, God forbid, I’m ever captured and interrogated by her enemies, I can’t tell them what I don’t know. She also keeps quite an arsenal in there. I only see the weapons when she brings them out, but at various times I’ve seen an assault rifle, a submachine gun, Lara Croft-style twin pistols, a sniper rifle, a samurai sword, twin throwing daggers, and a crossbow. Though most of the weapons in the house are locked up in the arsenal, my wife does keep a pistol in the drawer next to her side of the bed, and a shotgun in the closet, just in case something happens. She’s taught me how to shoot and I’m sad to say that I’m quite bad at it. I can hit the broad side of a barn, but the narrow side might give me some trouble. Debbie, on the other hand, is an excellent markswoman. She can easily nail a head shot on a target from 500 yards.

I work regular nine-to-five hours, but my wife is home most of the time. She generally does about one hit a month. Because of her excellent reputation, she doesn’t take small jobs and can afford not to. Every contract she takes pays a minimum of fifty thousand dollars, and most pay more than that. She has something of a regular cycle. She spends a few days researching various offers, and after careful investigation she selects a contract. She then spends several days researching every little detail about her target and planning out exactly how she’s going to do her mission. If she needs computer help tracking him (they’re usually male) down I come in at that point. When she has everything she needs, she goes off on the actual mission. Sometimes she’s gone for six hours, sometimes six days. After her mission is accomplished she spends the rest of the month relaxing at home, the beach, the spa, etc. Sometimes I join her for vacations at this time, though not often because I only get two weeks of vacation a year. When the next month rolls around, the cycle starts all over again. Some months she declares a ‘vacation month’ and simply spends the whole time relaxing.

Quarter past five on a Friday afternoon. Finally home for the weekend. I pulled my silver Lexus (courtesy of my wife’s money, of course) into the driveway. Debbie’s black BMW still wasn’t there. She had left on Tuesday on one of her missions.

I turned on my cell phone to see if any calls had come in while I had been driving. My heart leapt with excitement when I found a message from my wife, saying she’d be home in a few hours. She generally doesn’t call me while away until her mission is completed. After she comes back from an assignment, we go out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate, then come back to the house to celebrate with sex. Our sex life is great all the time, but it’s by far the best right after she’s returned from a kill. She’s feeling aggressive, dominant, and powerful, and that gets her in the mood more than anything.

I made myself a ham sandwich to keep my stomach satisfied until we went out to dinner, then grabbed a book and plopped down on the couch. Around eight, the doorbell rang and I eagerly jumped up. Debbie walked in, looking beautiful as always. She was wearing black leather pants, a tight black T-shirt that showed off the outline of her small, firm, perky 36B breasts, and black leather gloves. Her tanned, muscular arms looked great and her long brown hair, which was wild and loose, added to her female warrior image. She greeted me with a long, aggressive kiss.

“Welcome home, Debbie,” I said when we finally pulled apart. “All went well?”

“Went great. One more scumbag taken out of commission permanently, one more notch on my belt. How have you been?”

“Same old, same old. Spent about half my time bailing out people at work after they forgot their passwords and locked themselves out of their own computers.”

Debbie tossed her wild hair and laughed, playfully pinching me on the ass. “I’ll go change quickly, then let’s go out. I had to hitch a ride on a cargo plane if I didn’t want to wait till tomorrow to get back here. No food service on there. On the way over on Tuesday the private jet came complete with a flight attendant who served me lunch.” She picked up the duffel bag she had taken with her, her arm muscles rippling as she did so. As she swept upstairs, I saw that she was wearing a dagger on each well-developed hip, and the long telescope case she wore over her shoulder undoubtedly carried her sniper rifle.

She came back downstairs three minutes later. She was now wearing a long, sleeveless red dress with a slit on one side. Her hair was piled up in an elegant bun. She looked equally beautiful as a tomboyish warrior or a feminine lady. “I’m wearing flats tonight,” she said. “I won’t look too much taller than you this time.”

As we sipped red wine at our favorite Italian restaurant, I looked into my wife’s deep blue eyes. “So, sweetie, how much can you tell me about this one? It turns me on so much to hear about your kills.”

Debbie gave me that heart-melting smile of hers. “Nothing too spectacular this time. He was a mid-level guy in a drug ring. There was a contract on him for $100,000, though, so I took it. I sniped him – it was only about 300 yards, so it was an easy shot. But on the way out I bumped into two of his bodyguards who had been spread out to watch for danger. That’s where my daggers came in handy. Their pieces ended up in two different dumpsters.”

“Wow,” I said. “I’d call that pretty spectacular.”

She laughed. “You think all of my kills are.”

“Well, they are.” I put my hand on hers. Looking down at our forearms positioned next to each other, I couldn’t help noticing the differences between them. Mine was pale, with no real muscle definition, while her forearm was darkly tanned and had prominent veins and heavily developed, well-defined muscles. Her wrist was bigger than mine – she had playfully commented on it once and we had measured them. Mine was six and a half inches around, while hers was just over seven inches. Her biceps were bigger than mine too – mine measured a paltry eleven and a quarter inches, compared to her impressive thirteen and a half.

“I wish I could come with you on a mission sometime,” I said. “I’d love to see you in action up close and personal.”

She leaned her head against mine. “As much as I’d enjoy your companionship, you know I can’t let you do that. It would be too dangerous. I feel responsible for protecting you and if anything ever happened to you I’d spend the rest of my life blaming myself.”

“I know. I understand. I just like imagining how exciting and fun it would be.” I sighed. She moved in and kissed me.

After an excellent dinner, we headed out to the parking lot. Just as we reached the black BMW, Debbie suddenly pushed me to the ground, shouting, “GET DOWN!” A split second later, several bullets went through the air space my chest had previously been occupying. They slammed into the BMW’s left rear window, shattering it.

Two men were standing at the edge of the parking lot, both armed with submachine guns. Debbie had already reached underneath her dress and whipped out a small pistol, which she had been wearing strapped to her thigh. More bullets were sprayed at us, some only missing by inches. My wife fired two expertly aimed shots, one nailing one man right in his forehead and the other hitting the other guy in the arm. As his companion’s corpse slumped to the asphalt, the second man screamed in pain, dropping his weapon and clutching his wounded arm.

She tossed me the keys. “Start the car!” Trying to snap myself out of the state of shock I was in, I managed to stand up and open the driver’s door. My body was still shaking. Debbie, too well-disciplined and used to violence to have a freak-out, raced toward the injured man, doing a roundoff followed by a series of back handsprings in his direction. As she elegantly backflipped at him, he wasted precious seconds staring at this image of athletic, feminine beauty, amazed that a girl could do back handsprings in a long dress. He finally began reaching for his gun, but it was too late. Debbie had been much too quick for him. She crashed into him on her last backflip, knocking him to the ground, while she landed perfectly on her feet. She bent down and knocked him out with a swift karate chop to his neck.

I had managed to get the car started by this time. My wife motioned for me to drive it over. I did so and she opened the rear door. Picking up the unconscious man, she tossed him into the back seat. He was a medium-sized guy and she was able to handle his weight easily. She jumped in after him. “Now go! Fast!”

I raced out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. As I drove off, I saw in the rearview mirror that several people were coming out of the restaurant, hands over their mouths as they saw the dead body.

“Thank you for saving my life,” I said. In the rearview mirror, I saw her smile.

“Now what?” I asked. My heart rate had declined somewhat since the shooting, but it was still well above normal.

“Take us out of town, out into the desert. I need to interrogate this fucker to see who put him and his buddy up to it.” She looked behind her. Satisfied that no one was following the car, she added, “That was some excitement right there.”

Remembering what I had said in the restaurant, I suddenly felt guilty. Debbie must have sensed what I was thinking, because she said, “You have nothing to feel bad about. You had no way of knowing that was going to happen.” I felt better immediately.

About fifteen minutes later, she said, “This is far enough.” I pulled over and turned off the engine. Debbie pulled out the thug, who was just regaining consciousness, and threw him onto the dirt. “You may want to step away,” she told me. “Things could get brutal if he refuses to talk.”

“It’s okay, I’ll stay.”

She forced the would-be assassin into a kneeling position. He was awake by now and glared at her, then at me. I shivered in fear as his angry eyes focused in my direction. I was very glad my wife was out here with me.

Debbie reached under her dress and pulled out her pistol. Pointing it at the man, she said, “It’s very simple. Tell me what I want to know and I won’t shoot you, or refuse and I will shoot you. Your call.”

“I ain’t telling you nothing, bitch,” the thug growled. Her face remained expressionless. That seemed to frighten him more than an angry expression would have. He talked tough, but was trembling with fear inside.

Debbie suddenly rammed her knee into his face. Blood sprayed out from the impact. Some of it landed on her dress, which luckily was red and matched the color. Her model-like face still showed no emotion as he cried out in pain. She kneed his face again. More blood and another shriek of pain. “Every time I knee you, I’m doing more damage,” she said calmly. “Soon the damage will be permanent and irreversible. I suggest you start talking before then.”

She began raising her knee.

“Wait!” he cried out. “If I talk, do you swear you won’t shoot me?”

“You have my word of honor,” she answered.

“Okay, I’ll talk! Someone put a bounty on YOUR head. Two million dollars.”

She smiled slightly and glanced over at me. “Well! I had no idea I was worth that much.” She turned back to the thug. “Who put the bounty out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer.” She began raising her knee again.

“Wait! Please! I swear I don’t know! He’s not going to tell who he is, he’s too smart for that! It was over the Internet, completely anonymous!”

“Internet, eh?” Debbie glanced at me again. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me the details.”

“I have a printout of the email he sent me in my pocket. That’s all I got from him.”

“Take it out. Slowly.” She aimed her gun at his forehead to enforce her point. Shaking with fear, the man obeyed. My wife motioned for me to approach. Normally I would have been nervous about getting close to a guy who was likely a trained killer, but I could see that she had him completely under control.

She handed me the paper. “Can you trace this email?”

I looked at it. “I think so.”

“Good.” Debbie turned back to the failed assassin. “That means we don’t need you anymore, and that means it’s time for you to die.”

“Wait! No!” he protested. “You gave me your word of honor that you wouldn’t shoot me!”

“I know. I’m keeping my promise. I’m going to kill you with my knee.” With that, she rammed her knee into him again, but aimed a little lower this time. Her knee impacted the underside of his chin with such force that it snapped his neck backward, breaking it with a sharp CRACK. The dead body slumped to the desert floor. My wife looked at the corpse dispassionately, while I looked at it with wide eyes.

Slipping her pistol back underneath her dress, she came close and held me affectionately. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, honey. Thanks to you. You were amazing, once again. You seem so fearless.”

“I’m not. I’m human like you and there are things that scare me. But not that guy. He was just a small-time thug.” She held me tighter. I loved this girl who could go from brutal killer to loving wife in just a few seconds.

“Our home may not be safe,” Debbie said when we finally pulled apart. “Let’s check into a hotel.” She got behind the wheel of her BMW. I got into the seat beside her and we drove off, leaving the dead body for the vultures.

“Just one quick stop before we go to the hotel,” said my wife as she drove. “Luckily we’re already out here in the desert.” I was puzzled as she drove down a series of dirt roads, then came to a stop by two large boulders. Midway between them was a smaller rock. She went over and lifted it, revealing that it was a fake rock covering a chest. With a key from her large keyring, she unlocked it.

“One of my secret stashes,” she explained. “I knew that someday we might get into a situation where I couldn’t access my main arsenal in the house.” I peered into the chest. Inside were a mini-Uzi submachine gun, a 9mm pistol, a crossbow, several spare magazines of ammunition, and a quiver of arrows. There were also MREs, bottles of water, and a small, locked box. She unlocked the box with yet another key from the large keyring. Inside this one were half a dozen wads of $100 bills, two tubes filled with gold Krugerrands, and two more tubes of silver dollars.

I stared at my wife. “Debbie, you never told me…”

“Sorry, Brett. I guess I should have told you.” She stroked my cheek. “Forgive me?”

“Of course I do.” I touched my forehead with hers. I had to stand on my toes to do it, as she was taller.

“Thanks, sweetie.” She turned back to the chest and removed all the weapons and ammo. “We’ll leave the food and water here, and the gold and silver too. A different kind of situation might come someday when we’ll need those. We have all our credit cards, but just to be safe I’ll take half of this cash out.” She slipped three of the six wads of bills into a convenient dress pocket, then locked the small box and the chest again and put back the fake rock.

As we were carrying the weapons and ammo to the car, my wife said, “By the way, I have two other secret stashes out in the desert. One is north of town and the other is to the southwest. I’ll tell you the directions of how to get to each. Memorize them because they can’t be written down anywhere.” I memorized them quickly. At least that was something I was good at.

Debbie popped the trunk open and we put the submachine gun, crossbow, and ammo inside. She handed the pistol to me. “Brett, I want you to carry this with you at all times until I take out the guy who’s behind all this.” I took it a little nervously – I still wasn’t that comfortable with guns – and put it in my pocket. She still had her own pistol in her dress pocket. It was nice that they made formal evening dresses with pockets.

I was silent in the car on the way to the hotel. The full magnitude of what had happened was finally sinking in. Deep down, I had always known that my wife’s profession could put me in danger someday, but I had never really given much thought to it, probably because it was something I feared. But there was no getting away from it now.

We pulled up to one of the big casino hotels downtown (the closest thing to a high-end hotel in this town – such is life in Reno). Soon we were in a large suite on one of the upper floors. The large weapons and ammo we managed to smuggle into the hotel in a couple of big bags. Finally (relatively) safe, Debbie bolted and chained the door, put a chair in front of it, then sat on the bed next to me and looked into my eyes. “Are you okay, Brett? Are you *really* okay?”

“Yes, honey. The shock’s finally worn off. Mostly.”

“I’m sorry I got you into this. If you weren’t married to me…”

“No!” I cried out. “Don’t say that. Being married to you is the best thing that could ever possibly happen to me. I’ll happily take everything that comes along with that. Including the danger. I’d much rather be married to you and have my life at risk than be married to some non-warrior woman and have a perfectly safe life. Don’t blame yourself for what happened.”

She kissed me, gently. “That’s why I love you. You may be a shy and quiet man, but when you feel passionately about something you always stand up and speak out.” She began undoing her hair, which was still in a bun. “You know, we’re here together and we have this nice suite. And we need something to take our minds off what happened…”

I got an automatic erection in my pants. She noticed and laughed. Motioning for me to remove my clothes, she kicked her shoes off and took off her dress. She stood there dressed only in red panties – because of her exceptionally firm and perky breasts, she didn’t wear bras, except for sports bras when she worked out. Her nipples looked like they could cut glass. She wrapped her hand around my erect cock and applied pressure. The muscles in her big forearm became even more defined. The slightest movement she made with her arm always caused the muscles to start rippling. I moaned in pleasure, then in pain as she increased the strength of her grip. “Sweetie, you know your superhumanly strong forearms turn me on immensely and you’re probably strong enough to crush it, but please don’t,” I gasped out.

She relaxed the pressure. “Sorry hun. Better?”

“Mmmm yes, Miss Debbie.”

She began moving her hand in a rhythmic and steady up-and-down motion, sending new waves of pleasure through me. It was not long before I came hard, shooting a large load of semen onto her wrist. The white cum sharply contrasted with the darkly tanned skin of her forearm. I wiped it off with some tissues (no, she’s not one of those women who makes her man lick it off), then kissed her clean wrist in tribute to the powerful muscles that could give so much pleasure…or pain.

She smiled seductively, then sensually removed her red panties, sitting there completely nude. Her dark brown pussy hair was neatly trimmed. She stood up and turned around, then launched herself into a powerful standing back tuck, her well-developed thigh and butt muscles propelling her high into the air. She landed neatly on the bed and motioned for me to lie on my back. She then performed a cartwheel into the splits, landing her splits perfectly centered right on my face. Her wet pussy was right over my mouth and I eagerly began going down on her. She grinded down hard as I plesured her with my tongue and I knew that my face would be bruised tomorrow. Soon she had a powerful orgasm, screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes!” as she came all over my face.

As I was wiping the sticky girl-cum off my face, a loud banging came from the opposite wall. The suite was available with one or two bedrooms. We just needed one, and when not part of the suite the second bedroom was sold as a separate room. Whoever was in there now was making the ruckus. A man’s angry voice shouted, “Why don’t you fuckheads keep it down in there!”

Debbie giggled. “Cranky bastard, ain’t he? Well, let’s get back to business.” With that, I lay down again on my back, my cock now hard again and pointing straight up in the air. She giggled again when she saw, then mounted me in a reverse cowgirl position. She fucked me dominantly and hard. My earlier release, courtesy of her handjob, allowed me to last much longer this time. She came hard and first, then had an equally powerful second orgasm, moaning and shrieking in pleasure all the way. Finally I came, shooting my load deep into her. She climbed off me and we lay in the bed next to each other, breathing heavily.

Suddenly the banging on the wall started again, louder this time. “I thought I told you motherfuckers to keep it the fuck down!” came the angry voice.

My wife’s eyes got that mischievous sparkle and she got out of bed. Putting on her panties and dress, she said, “I think I’ll teach that asshole a lesson.” Noticing the worried look on my face, she added, “Don’t worry. I won’t do any permanent damage. She walked over to the connecting door and opened the one on our side. I put on my clothes and followed several feet behind her, my heart pounding.

Debbie suddenly did a lightning-fast high kick, the slit on the side of her dress enabling her to do it without damaging the garment. Her foot crashed into the other side’s connecting door with extreme force, splintering it and knocking it down. The man inside, who was dressed in a button-down shirt and boxer underwear and had been furiously typing on a laptop, jumped up and turned around, a look of fear and anger on his ugly face. His mouth dropped open in shock when he saw the remnants of the kicked-down door…and my wife standing in the doorway.

“How…how are you strong enough to…” he gasped.

Debbie laughed. “I get that a lot.”

She advanced on him. He was about my height, so my wife was a good four inches taller than him. Her muscular, tanned body looked powerful and dominant next to this scrawny loudmouth, whose pale, weak legs were showing. He cowered in fear.

Her fists moved, first one and then the other. There were two loud impact sounds and one cry of pain. He now had a broken nose and black right eye. She kneed him hard in the stomach. He doubled over, unable to breathe. She grabbed him and tilted his head up, looking straight into his frightened eyes. “My husband and I have had a very rough day and we’re trying to enjoy each other’s company,” she said coldly. “And we don’t need you giving us any shit. So take this as a lesson in manners.” With that, she headbutted him with all her strength, knocking him down and unconscious. She turned to me and winked, then walked over to her victim’s pants, which were lying on the bed.

When the loud jerk woke up, Debbie was standing over him, her muscular arms crossed in front of her. She smiled icily down at him. “Okay, asshole, here’s the deal. You’re going to keep quiet for the rest of the night. And you’re going to tell the hotel that YOU broke the door and pay for it yourself.” She pointed to his pants pocket. “While you were out, I looked in your wallet and memorized the address on your driver’s license,” she continued. “If you try to give us any shit or don’t do as you’re told, I know where you live and I will pay you a visit. Is that clear?”

“Y…yes,” he stammered, shaking like the coward he was. The biggest talkers always crumbled the quickest when faced with real strength.

“Are you going to be a good boy and do what I told you to do?”

“Y…yes,” he stammered again.

“You will address me as Mistress Lara,” she smirked, using one of her favorite undercover names.

“Y…yes, Mistress Lara.”

“Good.” She tossed her long beautiful brown hair and smiled. “Sleep tight, sucker.”

Once we were back in our room and the connecting door was closed, she turned to me, laughing. “That was fun.”

“And we needed it,” I said.

“That’s right.” Her elegant face became serious. “Let’s try to get a good night’s sleep. We have a lot of work to do starting tomorrow. There are going to be a lot of bad guys after us.”

“May the odds be ever in our favor,” I said. My wife giggled.

The next day, after a room service breakfast, we were both sitting in the living room of the suite. I was on my spare laptop (which, luckily, I had had in the car) trying to trace the email Debbie had gotten from the would-be assassin. My wife was cleaning her pistol.

“This isn’t an ordinary email,” I said as I typed away. “It’s got a lot of encryption and extra security. But I’ll find out where it came from. It’s only a matter of time.” Debbie smiled, came over and gently kissed me on the forehead, then went back to cleaning her gun.

“Do you have any idea who might be behind this?” I asked.

“It could be anyone. I’ve killed many targets and the friends of any one of them could be the ones who put the bounty out. But I thought I covered my tracks well enough each time. If it does turn out to be one of them I need to find out how they found out it was me so this doesn’t happen again.”

I continued pecking away at the computer. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, I shouted excitedly, “I got it! The email was sent from a company computer at a place called Dyno-Novo Industries.”

“Jesus Christ,” Debbie swore.

“What is it, honey?”

“Dyno-Novo. They were one of the organizations that HIRED me. A few months ago they paid me half a million to whack some industrial espionage guy who they said was stealing secrets from their company. It looks like they want to keep their secrets so well guarded that they feel the need to have me ‘cleaned up’ Jack Ruby style.” She got up and stood behind me, looking at the computer screen. “Can you find out which individual sent the message?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s a company address not matched to any one person. It could be anyone who works there.”

“Fuck. So we have no way of knowing who’s involved or how high up the corruption might go. Unless…” Debbie’s blue eyes lit up as she explained her idea. She reached into her purse and took out a makeup case. She then lay down on the floor. Following her instructions, I applied red makeup on her forehead to look like a bullet hole, complete with what looked like blood trickling down from the wound. I then got my cell phone and used it to take a picture.

As I uploaded the picture to the computer, Debbie stood back up and grinned wickedly. “Now those fuckers will think I’m dead,” she said, wiping off the phony blood. “How long will it take you to hack into Mr. Failed Assassin’s email account?”

“Just a couple of minutes. His doesn’t have the security that Dyno-Novo’s did.”

“Good. Ask for a meeting and tell them to have the cash ready.” I quickly hacked into the dead thug’s email and typed the message my wife wanted. I attached the picture of her and clicked SEND.

“Now we’ll find out who the guilty ones are,” Debbie said. Her voice and look were passionate but cold. I was glad this lethal beauty was on my side.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll go nuts just waiting. Let’s go downstairs and do a little gambling.”

We came back to the suite a couple of hours later. I had lost about $500 on the slot machines, but Debbie had won $2,000 on the roulette wheel and another $3,000 at poker. She’s really good at reading poker faces.

I immediately went to the computer. Sure enough, there was a response from Dyno-Novo. “They want to meet tonight at nine in a warehouse,” I reported. “Here’s the address.”

“Good job,” she said, kissing me. “Let’s have an early dinner, then around seven I’ll head out there so I can be there by 7:30. That should be enough time before they show up to set up an ambush.”

“You’re going alone?” I asked. Truth be told, I didn’t really want to go. I’m not used to dangerous combat situations and have no desire to get a lot of experience in that area. But the desire to be near her and watch over her while she was in danger, plus my desire to see her in action, pulled my thoughts in the opposite direction.

“It’s going to be extremely dangerous,” my wife said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know. I just…I just don’t want to feel like a coward.”

She came over and held me. “Trust me, Brett. I’ve never thought of you as a coward and I never will. There’s nothing cowardly about someone with no real combat training staying out of a danger zone. I really think it’s best if I went alone.”

“All right, Debbie. If you think it’s best.” She smiled, then led me towards the bed.

After an afternoon of lovemaking, followed by dinner in one of the hotel restaurants, we went back up to the suite so Debbie could change into her combat outfit. When she was ready, she was wearing tight black pants that showed off her muscular ass, black boots, black leather gloves, and a tight black top with three-quarter length sleeves that emphasized her perky breasts and slim waist, and showed off her big forearms. She wore the crossbow on her back and had the Uzi slung across her chest. Her pistol was on her hip. She put on a long coat to cover the weapons.

We stood by the door as she prepared to leave. “I don’t think anyone will find you here, but just to be safe make sure to keep your pistol on you, especially if you go downstairs. And if you do go downstairs make sure to hang the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door. Try to relax and have some fun while I’m gone. Don’t worry about me too much. I’ll call you as soon as the action’s over at the warehouse.” She kissed me on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Debbie. Stay safe and kick some ass.”

After my wife had left, I tried to distract myself by watching TV, but I couldn’t concentrate on any of the shows. I then decided to go downstairs and play the slot machines some more. Maybe that would work. But the slot machines couldn’t stop my worrying either, even though I was winning this time.

I looked around at all the happy (and some sad) people gambling, talking, laughing, crying…all oblivious to the dark forces my wife was up against. I decided I couldn’t take it any longer. I couldn’t be one of those oblivious people. I had to be with the woman I loved in her hour of danger. Even though I was not the kind of man who was capable of protecting her, I had to be man enough to try. I looked at my watch. It was 7:40. There was still time. I went outside and stood in the taxi line.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” the taxi driver asked as he pulled up to the warehouse. “There isn’t anybody here at this time of night.”

“Yes, this is it,” I said. I paid him and climbed out, watching as the vehicle disappeared in the distance. Completely alone now, I shivered. Was I doing the right thing? Patting my pocket to make sure my pistol was there, I headed for the warehouse entrance. It was only a little after eight and the bad guys shouldn’t be here yet. I would find my wife and we would wait together.

I looked at the front door, then paused. What if the bad guys had come early and were watching the door? I decided instead to head around the side of the building. Finding an unlocked window, I climbed inside, my heart pounding. I made my way cautiously though the dark warehouse. Suddenly, a tall figure popped up right in front of me. I almost wet myself in fear before recognizing the feminine shape of my wife.

“Dammit, Brett, what are you doing here?” she whispered. “I heard someone sneaking in the side window and thought it was one of the bad guys.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, hanging my head. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“You’re definitely not a coward, but you just may be a fool,” Debbie said, in a tone that was angry and loving at the same time. “If you want to stay safe, go out the way you came and go down to the next block. I’ll call you when…” She suddenly stopped when we both heard the sound of someone climbing in the same window I had come through. A second later, we heard the front door of the warehouse open.

I paled in fear. My wife’s face kept its tan color, but there was a look of alarm in her blue eyes. “No time,” she whispered. “Hide!” She pointed to a space surrounded by piles of boxes on three sides. “Whatever you do, stay here and shoot anyone that isn’t me,” she whispered. Trembling, I nodded and pulled out my pistol with a shaky hand.

Debbie spotted a platform about nine feet above the warehouse floor. She leapt upward, grabbing the edge with her leather-gloved hands, and used her upper-body strength to pull herself up. She positioned herself and took out her crossbow. Inserting an arrow, she waited.

From the direction of the side window, two men appeared, both in work clothes and both carrying pistols. Then from the direction of the front, two more men appeared. One wore a trench coat and carried an assault rifle. The other was dressed in a business suit and had a pistol in his right hand and a briefcase in his left. The man in the suit uttered a sharp command and the two men in work clothes moved in opposite directions, taking up positions in the shadows. The other two men remained where they were.

Debbie took aim at the workman nearest her. In his position, he was not directly visible to any of his comrades. She fired, sending an arrow straight through his heart. Before his corpse had hit the floor she was already reaching for another arrow. The body hit the floor with a THUD.

“What the fuck was that?” came from the man in the suit. The thug in the trench coat raised his rifle.

Debbie fired another shot from her crossbow at the second workman, who was also not directly visible to his companions. This time, her arrow impacted her victim in the head, causing it to erupt in a fountain of blood and brain matter. Another THUD and another curse. The man with the assault rifle opened fire wildly.

Whipping out her Uzi, my wife fired two quick but expertly aimed bursts. The first put half a dozen holes in the shooting man’s chest, dropping him stone cold dead. The second burst sent another half dozen bullets into the other man’s legs. He fell to the floor, screaming in pain and dropping both gun and briefcase. Debbie backflipped off the platform, landing neatly on her feet on the warehouse floor. She hurried over to the wounded man, keeping her submachine gun trained on him. She kicked his gun across the room.

“How the fuck are you still alive? Where’s Ziggy?” the thug groaned, recognizing her.

“I’m guessing Ziggy is the would-be assassin who failed to kill me last night. He’s dead. My husband and I played a trick on you and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” she smirked.

“Dammit, bitch, how could you have…”

Debbie stomped hard on his face with her big black size 10 boot. “I’ll be asking the questions now, asshole. Now are there any more of you guys here?”

“No,” he gasped out. He was bleeding quite badly.

“You’d better not be lying, cocksucker,” she snarled.

“I swear, it was just the four of us! Please!”

“All right. Now tell me the whole story of putting a bounty on my head. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” She aimed her Uzi at his groin threateningly.

Trembling in fear, the man began, “One of our rival companies was developing a valve system that could be used in space suits to make them less bulky. NASA would pay big bucks for something like that. So we had a spy go in and steal the technology. We were going to patent it as our own and sell it to NASA first. Then one of their security guys got suspicious and started an investigation. Luckily, we were able to stop him in time.”

“That was the guy you hired me to kill. He wasn’t a spy at all. You dirty lying fuckers, you manipulated me into killing an innocent man,” Debbie growled as she realized. She looked down dominantly at her terrified victim. “Go on,” she said icily.

“Well, we became afraid that you knew too much,” he continued. “So we…you know. That’s the whole story.”

“Who else is involved?” my wife demanded.

“Just my boss, Mr. Skinner. He was the one who came up with the whole thing.”

“That’s all? Who was the spy?”

The wounded man pointed to the corpse in the trench coat next to him. “He was the spy. And yeah, that’s all. Just Skinner and his three bodyguards.”

“And where is this Skinner now?”

“At his house, I guess. 1330 Baker Street.”

“All right. That’s all I need.”

The thug sat up. “When you call the police to get me, can you call an ambulance too?”

Debbie laughed. “Police? Are you nuts? I’m not going to have you arrested. I’m going to kill you.”

“But…please…no…” His begging was halfhearted, as he knew my deadly wife wasn’t changing her mind. Debbie calmly wrapped her muscular thighs around his neck, then twisted her hips 180 degrees, brutally snapping his neck like a dry twig.

I climbed out from my hiding place and stood next to my wife, looking down at all the dead bodies. “Once again, you were amazing,” I said to her.

She let the tension exit her body. “Thank you, sweetie. And you were a fool. But a brave and loving fool.”

Debbie bent down and opened the briefcase. Inside was two million dollars in $100 bills. She grinned. “With this plus the money I’ve already earned, we’ll have enough to buy that very nice private turboprop plane I’ve had my eye on.” I should mention that in addition to her many, many other talents, my wife has had pilot training.

“So now what?” I asked.

“We go get Skinner, of course. And by we, I mean me.” Noticing the disappointed look on my face, she added, “After I take out his bodyguards, I’ll let you watch me take care of Skinner.” I smiled at that.

Skinner’s house was a large two-story dwelling not far from his place of business. Debbie parked a couple of blocks away and instructed me to wait in the car. Staying hidden in the shadows, she made her way towards the house.

A bodyguard was on duty outside, carrying a shotgun. She snuck up behind him. Wrapping a muscular arm around his neck, she gave a quick jerk, breaking his neck. Smirking to herself at her strength, she lowered the corpse to the ground. She took a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. Inside, she encountered no one until she reached the bottom of the staircase. Hearing footsteps approaching, she quickly hid.

Soon the second bodyguard came into view. She popped out from her hiding place and, before he could react, punched him in the face, sending him down. Standing over him, she raised her right leg in a full vertical split, then brought her booted foot down with tremendous force onto his head. Her lethal axe kick shattered his skull easily, sending blood, brain matter, and pieces of bone flying everywhere. Debbie climbed the stairs swiftly but silently.

She found the third bodyguard and Skinner himself in the den. “Evening, gentlemen,” she said as she entered the room. Both men looked up in surprise. With a shrill, feminine, high-pitched warrior scream, Debbie performed a front tuck somersault to take her right to them. Landing perfectly on her feet, she fired a lethal palm strike into the bodyguard’s face as he was trying to draw his gun. The cartilage from his nose was driven into his brain and he slumped dead in the chair he had been sitting in.

Skinner recognized my wife. “You! What the fuck are you do…”

POW! Debbie punched him in the face, knocking him out and knowing it would leave him unconscious for at least fifteen minutes. “And that’s what happened while you were in the car,” my wife finished as we stood together in the den, looking at Skinner’s unconscious form.

When Skinner woke up, Debbie was standing right in front of him, her muscular arms crossed in front of her. He gave a yelp of fear. I was seated in a chair across the room, watching the whole thing.

“I know everything,” she said to him calmly. “I know that you were the real industrial spies. I know that you were the one who put the hit out on me. I killed the would-be assassins that came after me, I killed your co-conspirators, and I killed your other two bodyguards before I came in here. Now all that’s left is you.”

“What are you going to do?” he whimpered, shaking like a leaf.

“Well, if you can actually put up a fight against me, I’m going to fight you to the death. But more likely, it’s just going to be a one-sided massacre of me beating you to death.” She showed off her large, ultra-developed forearms that were displayed by the three-quarter length sleeve top.

“Please,” Skinner begged. “I can give you more money…”

“Are you hard of hearing or just slow? I’m not interested in your money. I’m only interested in your death. Now get up and fight me like a man.”

Skinner got to his feet, still shaking. At 5’8″ and 140 pounds, he was a little bigger than me, but smaller than my wife. He tried to punch her, but she dodged easily and nailed his cheek with a quick jab, opening a bloody cut on his face. He took another swing, which Debbie blocked with her thick forearm. She responded by lashing out with a swift and brutal punch to his left eye, turning it black. As he stood there stunned, she kneed him in the stomach, stepped back and with a whirl nailed his face with a spinning back fist, and then performed a standing back handspring, kicking him in the head with both feet as she flipped and knocking him to the floor.

“Get up, you big baby,” she mocked him, kicking him in the side while he was down and breaking one of his ribs with her powerful, well-aimed kick. Cursing and moaning in pain, Skinner got up and tried to charge her. She stopped him easily with a kick to his chest. She roundhouse kicked him in the side, breaking another of his ribs, then crescent kicked him in the face, sending him flying backward and into a wall.

A dizzy Skinner tried to look for a way to escape. Instead, he saw Debbie turn into a brunette blur as she did a blindingly fast series of cartwheels and handsprings toward him. He froze helplessly like a rabbit faced with a snake and a second later my wife was on him, punching him in the stomach and causing him to double over gasping for breath. Struggling to stand back upright, he took a swing at Debbie’s stomach. Seeing it coming, she simply tensed her abs. He screamed in pain as his fist impacted the rock-hard wall of my wife’s abdominal muscle and several small bones in his hand broke. His other hand flew to his mouth in shock and fear. She immediately kicked him in the face while his hand was there, breaking both his jaw and several small bones in that hand too. She savagely kneed him in the groin, then headbutted him, knocking him down again.

Skinner was in the fetal position, clutching his badly damaged testicles. Debbie leapt on top of him and punched him in the nose with her big, leather-gloved fist, breaking it. She rained several more punches down onto his face, sending blood and teeth flying. Finally, she climbed off of him and placed her semi-conscious victim in a sitting position against the wall. She then began kneeing him in the face. She worked calmly and efficiently, ignoring his cries of pain and the blood that was flying everywhere. She simply continued ramming her knee into his face again and again, slowly pulping him to death as her relentless knee strikes weakened, then cracked, then shattered his skull bone and penetrated deep into the remnants of his brains. She finally stopped long after she had killed him.

She turned towards me. She was covered in blood. I sat there, unable to move or speak. I shouldn’t be that way. I’ve known what she does for a living! But I simply was not used to seeing extreme violence up close…or seeing my warm and loving wife being so brutal.

“You okay, sweetie?” she asked.

I finally managed to speak. “Yes. I think so,” I said, standing up. In every action movie with tough, macho male heroes, a man who was brutal to the bad guys was never portrayed as a dangerous or unsuitable mate to a woman. Why should it be any different with the sexes reversed?

After that we cleaned up, literally and figuratively. I hacked into Skinner’s computer and put the word out that he was dead and the contract on my wife was off. Debbie took off her bloody clothes, washed up in Skinner’s shower, and put on a fresh outfit. “It’s over now,” she said as we embraced in the room where the dead bodies still lay. “Let’s go home.”


Corporate Warrior, Part 2

When Paul arrived for work on Tuesday morning, he felt a presence behind him. He turned around and saw that it was Christina. She smiled at him.

“Everything’s all taken care of,” she said. “Now if you’ll follow me to my office, I have a surprise for you.”

Paul was bursting with curiosity as he followed his manager. Once they were inside the office, Christina closed the door. “I’ll get right to the point,” she said. She motioned for Paul to turn around. He did so and to his great surprise saw David standing there. David did not look very good. He had a broken nose, a black eye, and several nasty bruises on his face. “I believe David here has something to say,” she said.

David cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I attacked you,” he said to Paul. “That was a very rude, cowardly, and stupid thing for me to do, and I’m very sorry.”

Paul was too shocked to say a word. “Very good, David,” said Christina. “Now, I believe you have a little document to write, so you’d better get to work,” she continued.

“Yes, ma’am,” answered David, as he hurried out of the office.

As soon as David had left, Paul’s mouth dropped open as he stared at Christina. “Wow, you rock!” he finally managed to say. “So, you must have hired some pretty tough guys to teach him a lesson, huh?”

“I didn’t hire anyone,” said Christina. “I didn’t need to.” “You mean you did that yourself?!” asked Paul, shocked. “But he’s… and you’re…” He looked more closely at his manager. Today, she was wearing tight black pants that emphasized her well-muscled butt and legs, and a sleeveless black top that showed off her strong arms.

“Wow, a chick who can kick ass!” he said. “I love that!” He suddenly blushed as he realized what he’d said.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” said Christina. “I like a guy who can appreciate a strong woman.”

“Well, you could definitely kick my ass,” Paul said, wishing he had his briefcase with him so he could cover his growing erection with it.

“As soon as David sends his little statement to the executives, I’ll officially promote you to your new position,” said Christina. She suddenly leaned over and gave Paul a long kiss on the lips. “See you around, sweetie,” she said. As he left the office, Paul had a look of shock on his face, courtesy of the kiss he had just received. He had to pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t some sort of wonderful dream.

After David had written his statement and sent copies to all the top executives, he went straight to the lab to start his work. He had no chance to slack off, as Christina kept a close eye on him all throughout the day. She made sure that he did all his work, was always careful with the chemicals, and didn’t bully anyone. She had also allowed him only fifteen minutes for a lunch break, saying that this policy would continue until he had given several weeks of hard work. At the end of the day, David groaned in exhaustion. Actually doing the work he was supposed to do was so much more tiring than the lazy, half-assed way he was used to doing things. He grabbed his stuff and headed for the exit, planning to go straight home, watch some TV, and drink a nice cold beer.

Suddenly, his path was blocked by a large figure, which turned out to be none other than his uncle, Mr. Allen. “What the hell is the meaning of this?” growled Mr. Allen, as he waved David’s statement paper in his face. Suddenly noticing the bruised and battered condition of his nephew’s face, he added, “And what the hell happened to your face?”

David, hanging his head in shame, told his uncle everything. When he had finished, Mr. Allen scowled at him. “Let me get this straight,” said Mr. Allen. “You not only got yourself beaten and humiliated, but you got yourself beaten and humiliated by a girl! I thought you were big and tough, the way you always brag about how you win all those bar fights. And now you get beat up by a little girl?!”

“I couldn’t help it!” whined David. “She must be some sort of kung-fu expert or something, theway she pulled those moves on me.”

Mr. Allen shook his head in disgust. “And to top it off,” he continued, “you actually do what she orders you to! What kind of a man are you?!”

“She threatened me!” said David. “Besides, I was still dizzy and confused when she made me do it!”

“I’ll say,” muttered Mr. Allen. He grabbed his nephew by the shirt collar. “Now listen to me,” he said. “We’re the Allen family. We’re rich. We’re powerful. No one messes with us and gets away with it. When that bitch Christina threatened you, you shouldn’t have caved in to her. You should have come to me! I have connections. I could have solved your problem! Now, we can still clean up this mess, but it’s going to be a lot more complicated because of your stupidity. Here’s what we’re going to do…” Mr. Allen continued explaining the rest of his plan to his nephew.

It was past 7:00 that evening when Christina headed out to her car in the dark parking lot. Working late was becoming quite common for her. Suddenly, she was startled by the appearance of two large men. The first man was overweight and balding, with a scarred face. The other was just as tall as his companion, but thinner. He had black hair and a smirking face. The two men scowled angrily at Christina. “Well, well, well,” said the fat man. “If it isn’t the little blonde crusader.”

Christina rolled her eyes. “What the hell do you want?” she asked.

“We’re just here to deliver a little suggestion,” said the black-haired man. “We’re here to suggest that you and your wussy friend Paul both submit your resignations to the head of the company by 5:00 tomorrow afternoon. And you should also write a note that says you blackmailed David Allen into writing his statement paper, and send a copy to all the executives. If you don’t, something very bad will happen to both of you.”

“And what if I’m not afraid of a bunch of lame threats from a couple of William Allen’s hired thugs?” she asked.

“Aggressive little thing, isn’t she, Johnny?” said the black-haired man to his companion.

“She sure is, Slick,” responded the fat man. “But aggression isn’t going to get her out of this one.” He turned to Christina. “We’re here to put you in your place, blondie,” he said. “You’d better do as we say, or else.”

“I know where my place is,” said Christina. “My place is teaching lessons to ugly assholes like you.”

“Why, you little bitch,” growled Johnny. He took a swing at her. She danced out of the way easily and kneed him in the gut. Johnny doubled over in pain. Slick charged forward, but several fast punches to his face, courtesy of Christina’s fists, knocked him to the ground.

Johnny grabbed Christina from behind. She stomped hard on his foot. He howled in pain and let her go. Without looking, she kicked out hard behind her, hitting Johnny in the chest and sending him flying backward. She then turned her attention back to Slick, who had gotten up and was now shaking his head dizzily. He charged towards her and tried to hit her in the face, but she dodged his attack and high-kicked him in the jaw. Slick fell to the ground again.

Johnny was now trying to sneak up on Christina from behind. Just when he had almost reached her and was about to launch an attack, she suddenly drove her elbow into him. She then spun around, tripped him to the ground, and kicked him in the head several times, knocking him out.

Slick was lying on the ground, moaning in pain and making angry threats. She went over to him, lifted her right leg up until she was doing a full vertical split, and smashed her leg down onto his head. Slick bounced, then lay still.

Christina took out her cell phone and called the police. A few minutes later, a squad car arrived. She made a statement to the police, and Johnny and Slick were hauled off to jail.

The next morning, as David arrived for another long, weary day of closely supervised hard work, his cell phone rang. It was his uncle, William Allen. “Something went wrong last night,” came Mr. Allen’s voice. “Johnny and Slick didn’t check in. Something must have happened. I’m going to take the day off from work and devote my energy to getting this business straightened out. The police might come poking around, so if they ask you any questions, don’t tell them anything if you know what’s good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” said David. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ to no cops.”

“Good,” said Allen. “I’m going to teach that little bitch and her wimpy friend not to mess with the Allen family.”

Christina called Paul into her office. Once they were inside, she closed the door. “I’ll get right to the point,” she said. “Did anyone threaten you last night?”

Paul looked surprised. “No,” he said. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she answered. “Just that a couple of thugs tried to bully me into quitting last night.”

“What happened?!” he asked, alarmed. “Are you okay?”

Christina laughed. “I’m fine,” she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “But the guys who tried to attack me aren’t feeling so hot. I kicked their asses and now they’re in jail. They’d better hope that none of the other prisoners finds out that they got beat up by a girl.”

“Wow,” said Paul, impressed. He stared at her for several seconds, then said, “Can I ask you something? How did you learn to fight so well?”

“Well, I grew up in a rough neighborhood,” she began. “My dad walked out on us when I was six. My mom always said that women should know how to take care of themselves. She was a martial-arts expert and she taught me how to fight. Whenever I saw a bigger kid beating up on a smaller kid, I’d intervene and…”

There was a sudden knocking on the door. “Police!” came a voice. Christina talked briefly with the police. The cops then looked for Mr. Allen, but were informed that he was not available. After that, they questioned David, but he didn’t tell them anything. After questioning several employees, none of whom seemed to know where Allen had gone, the police left to see if they could find Allen anywhere.

After they had gone, Christina pulled Paul into her office and closed the door. “I watched the cops as they were questioning people,” she said. “And I noticed something. Jessica, that slutty girl who works in the front office, was very nervous when she was being interrogated. I’ve suspected for a while that the little whore’s been sleeping with Allen. I bet she knows where he is. If you see her do anything strange, keep an eye on her.”

A few minutes later, Paul noticed Jessica slip off. Making sure that she didn’t see him, he followed her. She went into an empty meeting room and closed the door. He walked up to the door and listened. He heard her on the phone. “Yeah, the cops were just here,” Jessica was saying. “I didn’t tell them anything, and neither did David. I’m pretty sure they don’t know what you’re up to.” A pause of several seconds, then, “Sure, I’d love to join you. You can get them to let me go for today? Great. I’ll be right there. Bye.” Paul quickly walked off before the door opened. He hurried to tell Christina what he’d heard.

“Let’s follow her,” said Christina. She handed him her car keys. “Go out and start the car, honey. I’ll be right out. I just have to make sure that David doesn’t get suspicious.”

Paul took the keys and turned to leave, then stopped suddenly. “Should we call the cops?” he asked.

“I think we both want to have the satisfaction of getting Allen ourselves,” answered Christina. “We can call the police after it’s all done.” Noticing the nervous expression on Paul’s face, she added with a wink, “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll be there to protect you.” This remark brought a smile to Paul’s face, as well as an erection underneath his pants. Covering his woody with his briefcase, he hurried out to the parking lot.

Christina darted back into the lab. Making sure that no one saw her, she grabbed David by the neck. “You’ve lucked out for a little while,” she said. “Some company big shot wants to have an emergency meeting with me. But don’t think you’re off the hook. You’d better be a good boy while I’m gone. Remember what I told you. If you try anything funny, I’m going to kick your ass really bad in front of everyone and really humiliate you.” She ran off, leaving David in the lab with a scared look on his face.

After making quick and clever excuses to her boss for both herself and Paul leaving, Christina hurried out to the car. The engine was running, and Paul was sitting in the passenger seat with his briefcase on his lap. “Jessica’s just leaving,” he said. Pointing, he added, “That red car right there is hers.”

Giving Paul a quick kiss on the cheek, Christina followed Jessica out of the parking lot and through the streets, taking care to stay far enough behind so she wouldn’t get suspicious. After about twenty minutes of driving, the red car pulled into the parking lot of a hotel. Jessica got out and went inside the building. Christina and Paul followed at a distance. Jessica walked quickly through the hotel lobby towards the back of the building, where the meeting rooms were. She knocked on one of the doors. It opened and she slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

Christina and Paul walked up to the door and listened. “Don’t underestimate her, Red,” a voice that was recognizable as Mr. Allen’s was saying. “She may be a little blonde girl, but she’s got kung-fu skills or whatever you want to call them. She beat up my nephew, and she probably beat up the two guys I sent after her yesterday. When you go to collect from her, take at least four men, and make sure they’re good men. Men who know how to fight. Even Little Miss Kung-Fu won’t be able to handle that.”

“Relax, Mr. Allen,” came a gruff voice. “When you hire Red, you hire the best. I have a good crew ready. We’ll take care of everything. Tonight, if you want it. Just make sure you have the money ready.”

“It’ll be ready,” came Allen’s voice. “Tonight will be great. I know where she lives. Here’s the address.”

A female voice was heard, presumably Jessica’s. “I’ll be happy to see her get taken down a notch,” she said. “She thinks she’s so smart.”

Christina opened the door and calmly walked into the meeting room, Paul right behind her. He closed the door behind them. The three people who were already in the room stared at the newcomers in shock.

William Allen, a large, ugly man with graying hair, was seated at the far end of the meeting table. On his left was a big, rough-looking man with red hair. On Allen’s right was a slender, athletic-looking brunette who was wearing a blouse that showed a lot of cleavage.

“How the hell did you find us here?!” shouted Allen angrily.

“Oh, we have our ways,” said Christina. She tossed her long blonde hair in a dramatic fashion. “You disappoint me, William. First, your wimpy nephew gets his butt kicked by me. Then, those two thugs you sent after me last night also get their butts kicked by me. Now, I catch you in the act of hiring ol’ Red here and planning to send even more thugs after me. If you have a problem with me, why don’t you get the balls to confront me on your own?”

“Watch your mouth, blondie,” growled Allen. “People like you need to be put in their place. You should have just done as I said when I told you to give that promotion to David. Now look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself and your wimpy boyfriend into.”

Christina advanced on Allen threateningly. Red pulled out a gun and pointed it at her. “Not so fast,” he said.

Allen grinned evilly. “It’s over, girlie,” he said. “You and Mr. Weakling over there had better start writing your resignations right now, or else you’re both dead. Get to work.”

Paul suddenly turned off the lights. The meeting room had no windows and was plunged into complete darkness. Loud, angry shouts came from Allen, Red, and Jessica.

Red pointed his gun around wildly in the darkness. Suddenly, a pair of booted feet impacted with his head as Christina performed a flying kick. Red flew backwards and crashed against the wall, his gun sailing loose.

Allen, meanwhile, had managed to reach the light switch and turn the lights back on, revealing the current scenario in the room. Christina was standing in a fighting stance, fists ready. Red was seated against the wall, holding his head in a daze. Paul was standing in a corner, while Jessica was still seated at the meeting table. With a loud roar, Allen charged Christina. She responded by doing a powerful spin kick that hit her opponent in the head. With a grunt of pain, Allen fell to the floor.

Jessica saw that Red’s gun had slid under the table and started towards it. Paul saw her and tripped her to the ground. She let out a string of curses and kicked him in the groin. Paul screamed in pain and fell to the floor, clutching his injured family jewels. Jessica got up and stood over him, laughing. However, her laughter was suddenly interrupted when she was tackled by Christina. “You slutty ho,” said Christina angrily as she punched Jessica repeatedly in the face. Christina looked around and saw that Red was getting up. “I’ll finish dealing with you later, bitch,” she said as she gave Jessica a final punch and turned her attention to Red.

Red pulled out a knife and advanced on Christina. Just when he was about to attack, she suddenly did a lightning-fast kick that sent the knife flying out of his hand. He growled and swung a punch at her face. She ducked and socked him in the gut. She then grabbed him and headbutted him, sending him backwards. He bumped hard into the wall.

Allen had now gotten up and was trying to sneak up on Christina from behind. She knew he was coming, however. When he got close enough, she launched a powerful back kick that sent him stumbling backwards. Spinning around, she kneed him in the family jewels. Allen clutched his wounded groin and fell to the floor screaming in pain. He tried to get up, but was knocked back down again when Christina’s knee smashed into his face. She then delivered a brutal kick to his head that knocked him out and shut him up.

Red shook his head to try to clear the dizziness from it. He picked up a chair and raised it as if he was a wrestler on WWF Smackdown. He swung the chair at Christina, who ducked under it, then kicked him hard in the chest. He sailed backwards and dropped the chair. Christina launched a roundhouse kick that hit Red in the head, then fired a flurry of strong punches into his face. He moaned and stood there shakily. Seeing that Paul was watching her from his position on the floor, she winked at him and performed a standing back handspring, kicking Red. He fell to the ground.

She looked around. Paul and Jessica were both lying on the floor, Paul still clutching his groin and Jessica shaking her head dizzily. Allen was out cold. Red was starting to get up again. Christina calmly waited for him to finish standing up, then launched a vicious high kick that slammed into his jaw. Red fell to the floor face first, and stayed there.

Christina walked back over to Jessica and sat on her (large) chest. She punched Jessica in the nose. “That’s for helping Allen,” she said. She punched her again. “And that’s for being a skank,” she said. She punched Jessica one final time, knocking her out. “And that was for Paul,” she said, with a determined look on her face.

Christina hurried over to Paul, who was just now sitting up. She helped him to his feet. “Are you all right, honey?” she asked, a concerned look on her face.

“I’ll live, I guess,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” she asked.

“Sorry that I couldn’t be of more help,” he answered, staring glumly at his shoes. “I guess Allen and his thugs were right. I am a wuss.”

Christina gave Paul a tight hug. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” she said. “You did great. You turned off the lights. You stopped Jessica from getting to the gun. And don’t let those guys make you believe that you’re a wuss. They’re the wusses, because they’re the ones who got beat up by a girl.”

Allen, with a groan, shook his head and opened his eyes. Paul took out his cell phone and called the police, while Christina picked up Red’s gun and pointed it at Allen, who was smirking. “You don’t got nothin’ on us,” he said. “Johnny and Slick, if they’re in jail, ain’t gonna talk. When the cops get here, I’ll just say that you were the ones who assaulted us. It’ll be our word against yours. We’re gonna walk.”

“I don’t think so,” said Christina. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tape recorder. “I’ve got everything you said right here on tape,” she grinned. “Even your big-shot high-priced lawyers won’t be able to get you out of this one.” Allen looked as if he was about to pee in his pants. Christina and Paul looked at each other and laughed.

Red and Jessica woke up a few minutes later. A few minutes after that, the police arrived to find Christina holding three very depressed-looking criminals at gunpoint.

Allen, Red, and Jessica joined Johnny and Slick in jail. As for David, he didn’t last long at the company without his uncle’s protection. He was soon fired for incompetence and eventually ended up working at McDonald’s.

Paul retained the promotion to the main lab that he rightfully deserved. Christina so impressed the company’s board of directors with her actions that she was given Allen’s old executive position.

Christina and Paul hugged each other after receiving news of their promotions. She then gave him another long kiss on the lips, as Paul smiled blissfully.


Corporate Warrior, Part 1

Paul sighed as he looked at his watch for the fourth time in the past twenty minutes. It was 4:45 on a Friday afternoon. Fifteen more minutes and he could go home for the weekend.

He decided to check his email one more time before going home. As his inbox appeared on the computer screen, Paul suddenly jumped up in surprise. Among the spam and other boring messages was a priority message from the boss. The message announced the sudden departure of one of the technicians in the main lab, creating an open position.

“This could be my ticket upward,” thought Paul. Right now, he was a technician in one of the small side labs. To get a position in the main lab would mean the chance to do some much more prestigious work, not to mention a substantial increase in salary.

Paul thought he had an excellent chance of getting the new position. He was 29 years old and had been working in the side labs for five years now, and had not yet been promoted. He was a hard worker, very reliable, and good at coming up with new ideas. He thought that surely now, his time had come.

Paul suddenly became aware of how many minutes had passed while he had been thinking. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was now two minutes past five. He grabbed his briefcase and got up to leave, hoping that on Monday his manager would tell him that he had been promoted.

As he was leaving, a large figure suddenly materialized in front of him, blocking his way. Paul groaned in disgust when he saw that it was David, the most unpleasant of his coworkers. David was one of Paul’s fellow technicians in the side labs. Although he had been with the company for only a year, David was very arrogant and rude, probably because his uncle was one of the corporation’s top executives (and had probably landed him the job in the first place). Everyone knew that David was not a good employee. He was lazy, often missed work, and was frequently late when he did bother to show up. He was also careless in the lab and had caused several accidents, luckily all minor ones so far. Although an ordinary employee who had done those things would have been fired long ago, David could not be fired due to his uncle’s influence. In addition, the knowledge that he was under the protection of his uncle had made David into a bully who pushed his coworkers around. Now, he was standing in front of Paul, scowling at him.

“What do you want?” asked Paul nervously. He had good reason to be nervous, since David was a lot bigger than him, not to mention very bad-tempered.

“I guess you got the email too,” began David. “And maybe you think you’ll get the position. Well, you’d better think again, because that promotion is mine. My uncle will tell our manager to give it to me. Now, I know you pretty well and I have a feeling you’ll be going off on some righteous crusade to get that position for yourself after they give it to me. So I’m giving you a warning. You can either keep your mouth shut and be content with your old job, or you can rock the boat and get your ass kicked.”

Paul considered letting David have his way. After all, he didn’t want any trouble and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for a beating. But the more he thought about it, the more he opposed the idea. All through school, he had been pushed around and bullied because he was small, nerdy, and shy. He did everything he could to avoid confrontations and had stopped standing up for himself. Paul decided that he was tired of hiding and backing down. He had to start standing up for himself, and this was the place to start. “No,” he said. “We both know that I’m the most qualified one for the job, and you only have a job here because of your uncle. I’m not going to let you shove your way into a position that you don’t deserve.”

David glared at Paul. “So that’s the way it’s gonna be, huh?” he snarled. “Well, you asked for this.” With that, David punched Paul hard in the stomach. Paul grunted and doubled over in pain. Struggling to stand back upright, he swung a punch at his opponent, but David dodged it easily and laughed. “You can’t touch me, wimp,” he sneered. David then punched Paul repeatedly in the face. When he was finished, Paul had a broken nose, a black eye, and several nasty bruises. David grabbed Paul by the neck and said, “I can mess you up a lot worse, so you’d better give up right now, wuss.”

Paul, semiconscious, nodded his head. “All right, you win,” he groaned. “I won’t say anything.”

David shoved Paul against the wall and released him. “See you on Monday, loser,” he smirked as he left. After Paul was sure he had gone, he went to the bathroom to clean himself up and tried not to cry.

All too soon, Monday morning rolled around. As Paul walked towards the building’s entrance, he told himself to just go on as if everything was all right and not to let David’s abuse get to him. As he entered the building, he saw Christina, his manager, walking towards him.

Paul had had a crush on Christina for a long time. It was easy to see why, considering that she was a petite, athletic hottie with long blonde hair and a great tan. Even better, she was a smart woman as well as a fair and compassionate manager. What he admired most about her, though (even more than her amazingly firm breasts), was the way she rejected David’s crude, arrogant sexual advances.

“Good morning, Paul,” said Christina as she approached him. “I have some…holy shit, what happened to you?” she gasped as she noticed his face, which was still cut and bruised from the encounter with David on Friday evening.

“Um, I worked late Friday evening and as I was leaving, a couple of thugs attacked me in the parking lot,” he lied. “They beat me up and stole my wallet.”

“Oh, that’s terrible!” said Christina. “You called the police, right?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” answered Paul. “I took care of everything. I made a full report to the cops and they caught the guys. I got my wallet back, too. Everything’s okay.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” said Christina. “Anyway, I have something important to tell you, so if you’ll come with me to my office…”

Once they were inside the office, Christina closed the door. “I’ll get right to the point,” she said. “You know about the lab position opening?” Paul nodded. “Good,” she continued. “After reviewing all the candidates, I concluded that you were the most qualified one to take the job.” Paul sat up straight in his chair in excitement.

Christina said, “Things are not as simple as that, unfortunately. I got a message from William Allen, one of our vice-presidents. Mr. Allen was basically ordering me to give the position to that asshole nephew of his, David.”

A frown appeared on Paul’s face. Christina noticed and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let him push me around. You deserve the promotion and I’m going to do everything I can to help you get it. I’m going to see Mr. Allen and have a talk with him. In the meantime, you can start work as usual. I’ll notify you as soon as I get more news.”

Paul smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” he said. He got up to leave, but stopped when Christina said, “Just one more thing.”

Paul turned around. “Yes?” he asked.

Christina walked out from behind her desk so she was right in front of him. The smell of her perfume and the view of her muscular, pantyhose-clad legs was making him very nervous and giving him an erection. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Is there anything more you want to tell me about what happened on Friday evening?” she asked. Paul gulped nervously. Did she suspect the truth? He considered telling her everything, but decided against it. If he told what really happened, he would get a can of whoop-ass opened up on him, and Christina might get hurt too. He couldn’t let that happen. As much as he hated lying to her, he had to do it.

“Um, no,” he stammered. “Nothing more.”

She stared at him for several seconds. “All right,” she said finally. “You can go now.” As Paul was leaving, she called out, “If you ever need to tell me anything, even if it’s embarrassing, I’m here for you. I won’t tell anyone else.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Now alone in her office, Christina began to pace around. Although she was only 27 years old, she was already recognized as one of the company’s best managers. She had the potential to advance quickly through the corporation’s ranks. However, all too often, connections, like Mr. Allen’s and David’s, counted more than merit when determining promotions. She had tried repeatedly to fire David, but Mr. Allen, protecting his nephew, had always overruled it, and the other executives didn’t care much one way or the other, so they didn’t try to stop him. Now, Mr. Allen was trying to get away with pulling his nephew up the ladder.

Christina knew Paul well enough to realize that he was not telling the whole truth. She suspected what had really happened, but had no way of proving it. She could only hope that he would find the courage to tell the whole story.

A while later, Christina asked Paul to come to her office. “I talked with Mr. Allen,” she began. “I tried again and again to change his mind, but he refused to budge. The only thing I can do now is to go to the head of the company, but I doubt that’ll work.”

All throughout that morning, Paul had been debating whether or not to tell her the truth. Now, seeing how far she was willing to go to help him, he decided he couldn’t lie to her any more.

Paul cleared his throat nervously. “First of all, thanks for everything you’re doing to help me,” he began. “I really appreciate it and I have to admit that I haven’t been telling you what really happened of Friday night.”

“I know,” said Christina.

Paul’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But… how…how could you possibly tell?”

“Oh, I have my ways,” she answered. “Go on, give me all the details.”

He told her everything that had happened on Friday night. When he had finished, Christina’s eyes were flashing with anger. “I’m so sorry he did this to you,” she said, coming over and hugging him tightly.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” said Paul. “I feel so bad about lying to you.”

“Don’t feel bad about it. It couldn’t be helped,” she replied.

“So what are we going to do now?” asked Paul. “Please don’t tell anyone else about this. You know what David’s going to do if he finds out I told.”

Christina’s eyes now had a determined look. “I’ll handle this from here,” she said. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve. You just go on and keep David thinking that everything’s going his way. I’ll have a surprise for him. Everything should be taken care of by tomorrow morning.”

Paul thought about asking her for more details, but then decided that she knew what she was doing. “Okay,” he said. “And whatever it is that you’re planning to do, I hope it works. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” said Christina. Paul left to go back to the lab, while Christina sat back down at her desk, going over the details of her plan.

That afternoon, David was just leaving when he heard someone call his name. Turning around, he saw that it was Christina. “I’d like to see you in my office, right now,” she said.

“This better be quick,” grumbled David. “Green Bay Packers are on Monday Night Football tonight.” He followed her to her office, leering at her shapely figure.

Once they were inside the office, Christina closed the door. “I’ll get right to the point,” she said. “I know what you did to Paul. You brutally attacked him, just because he wouldn’t let you steal the promotion that he rightfully deserved.”

David jumped up, furious. “So the little wimp squealed!” he yelled. “I warned him not to do that! I’m gonna pound him like a…”

He was suddenly interrupted by Christina. “You will do no such thing,” she said coldly. “Instead, you will apologize to Paul, and tell both him and your uncle that you are unworthy of the promotion, and that Paul deserves it.”

David began to laugh loudly. “Oh yeah?” he sneered. “Who’s going to make me? You?”

“That’s right, me,” answered Christina.

David snorted. “Little blonde you? I’d like to see you try! Maybe I should beat the crap out of both you and Paul, and then make him watch while I have my way with that hot body of yours.”

At that, Christina’s face went red with anger. “Now I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass even more,” she hissed. “I’m going to teach you that there are some things even your rich big shot uncle can’t protect you from.”

“Bring it on, bitch,” growled David. He raised his fists and moved towards her. Christina put up her own fists and approached her opponent. Even though he was considerably taller and heavier than her, she was not afraid. She was well trained for this kind of situation, and she knew that her opponent’s fighting experience consisted mostly of picking fights with smaller guys at bars.

David sized up his opponent as he moved towards her. He was confident that he could win easily. After all, she was just a little blonde woman, maybe 5’3″ and 120 pounds. She was certainly sexy, though. She was wearing a black miniskirt that showed off her muscular legs, and a tight white top that showed off her muscular forearms. He thought about what to do with her after he had beaten her.

“Are you going to fight or drool, you fat ugly wimp?” said Christina, smirking.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” snarled David, as he swung a punch at her face. She dodged it easily. He swung another punch at her, which she blocked with her arm. She immediately countered with a swift punch that landed right on his nose. He yelled in pain and staggered backward, touching his nose and feeling blood. He aimed a kick at her, but she grabbed his leg before the kick could land. Before he could do anything, she had smashed her fist into his gut and then kicked him in the face, sending him to the ground.

Christina taunted her opponent. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but this is supposed to be a fight,” she laughed as she waited for him to get up. David made a noise like a wild animal and got to his feet. He charged her, but his attack came to an abrupt end when she aimed a kick at his chest. He ran right into her outstreched leg. With a grunt of pain, he stumbled backwards. He charged her again. This time, she simply grabbed him and threw him over her shoulder. He landed heavily on the floor.

Christina rolled her eyes. “Damn, you’re even wussier than you are ugly,” she snickered. David got up and made another animal noise. Weakened by Christina’s attacks, he swung a slow, clumsy punch at her that she dodged without even having to make an effort. She then kneed him in the stomach, elbowed him in the face, and headbutted him. He let out a shout of pain as each attack landed and stood there, dizzy. Stepping back a little, she did a cartwheel, her legs slamming into his head one after the other as she completed her cartwheel and landed back on her feet. The force of her gymnastic attack knocked her opponent to the ground yet again.

“Ready to give up, you pathetic pussy?” asked Christina.

“Never!” yelled David as he got slowly back to his feet. As he finished getting up, he was greeted by Christina’s fist slamming directly into his right eye. “That black eye’s payback for the one you gave Paul,” she growled. She then balanced on her left leg while kicking him repeatedly in the face with her right leg. “And these are for being a jerk to everybody,” she snapped as she kicked him. After about a dozen vicious and lightning-fast kicks, she paused briefly to admire the damage that she had done to her opponent, who was swaying back and forth on his feet, barely conscious. “And this is for all those times you were leering at me,” she finished as she launched a powerful spin kick. The kick hit her opponent right in the head and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

Christina, grinning with excitement, stood over her defeated opponent. She smoothed her skirt and fixed her hair, which had gotten slightly messed up during the fight. She then stripped David to his underwear (discovering that he wore Barney and Friends underwear – his secret shame). After that, she poured cold water on him to wake him up.

David opened his eyes and saw little blonde Christina standing over him, smirking. “So, the big wimp is awake,” she said. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do. First, you will apologize to Paul for your cowardly attack on him. Second, you will write a 500-word statement on why you are unworthy of the promotion, and you’re going to give a copy to all the top executives of the company, including your uncle. Third, from now on you’re going to work like a decent employee. And finally, to teach you one more lesson, you’re going to go home today dressed in only that idiotic Barney underwear of yours. I know you’re going to do all of this, because if you fail to do even one part of what I just told you, I’m not only going to kick your ass ten times worse than what I just did, but I’m also going to do it in public and humiliate you in front of everyone. Now, are you clear on what you have to do?”

David nodded. “Are you going to do exactly as I tell you?” Christina asked. David nodded again.

“Say ‘Yes, ma’am’,” said Christina. He stared at her. “Say it,” she said coldly as she made a fist.

A look of fear came over his face as he stammered, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” said Christina. “Now get your ugly, hairy, Barney-underwear-wearing ass out of here, and be at work on time tomorrow.”

David, glad to be able to get away from her, ran out of the office and headed to his car. He hoped it was late enough that no one would see him, but as he was running through the parking lot a group of high school girls saw him and started pointing and laughing at him. Crying in shame, he jumped into his car and raced out of the parking lot as fast as he could.

Christina, watching him from her window, laughed at his public humiliation. She then went out to her own car and drove home, enjoying one of the happiest days of her life.

To be continued… (insert dramatic cheesy music here)

Tales from the Amazon Wars, Episode 2

Tales from the Amazon Wars, Episode 2: Enter the Princess: Her Royal Highness is sent to stop the Amazons

The citizens of the Colonial Capital were frightened, and rightfully so. Two weeks earlier, eight thousand of their soldiers had been massacred by an army of just three thousand teenage Amazon girls. Only three male soldiers had escaped alive to tell the tale. Four others had been captured by the Amazons. The men who had died were luckier.

In the days that had followed, isolated outposts were overrun by roving bands of Amazon maidens. Garrisons were slaughtered to the last man. The people had fled into the few towns on this large, partially explored island that were protected by city walls, leaving the Amazons to rampage throughout the countryside, burning crops and buildings. The Colonial Governor had sent for help from His Majesty’s army on the mainland, but due to the four-week round-trip travel time, it would be another two weeks before the earliest help could be expected to arrive. The town watch, on double guard ever since news of the battle had broken, was full of jitters, expecting every day to see lethal Amazon warrioresses riding out of the woods. The Governor tried to calm the citizens’ fears. “Even if they do come,” he said, “they can’t breach our walls with their primitive weapons.”

“We lost twelve cannons at the massacre,” a lieutanant, one of the three men who had escaped from the battle, pointed out. “And more from the outposts that were captured by the Amazons.”

“How would they know how to use them?” asked the Governor. “We just need to sit tight and stay calm. Reinforcements will arrive soon. Then we can teach those arrogant Amazons a lesson.”

And so with those words, the citizens of the royal kingdom tried to find strength and comfort. But it was not to last. On the fifteenth day after the massacre, a guard up on the city wall was making his usual rounds. Thinking he saw something in the woods, he tried to get a better look. Suddenly, something was flying directly at him with incredible speed. He let out the beginning of a scream which was abruptly cut short.

Three of his comrades rushed over at the sound. They found him dead on the wall, the razor-sharp tip of a spear embedded in his skull. Three decapitated heads had already been impaled on the spear before it had been thrown by an obviously very powerful arm.

They recognized the heads immediately. They were those of Major General Donner, the commander of the ill-fated army that had been massacred by the Amazons, along with his chief of staff and his artillery commander. All three heads were covered with bloody cuts and scars. That, along with the expressions of terror frozen on their dead faces, indicated that they had been subjected to sadistic torture before meeting their grisly ends. The youngest guard fainted at the gory sight. Another began throwing up. The last guard, the oldest, managed to scream for his commander. “Milord! Look!”

The officer hurried over, gasping in shock at the scene. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a cannon shot boomed. The stone wall in front of them crumbled away and all four men dropped stone cold dead, bodies blasted to pieces. More cannon fire came, more stones were blown loose from the wall, and more men dropped, some dead, some with arms and legs gruesomely blown off. “WHAT?!” The Governor came flying out of his mansion at the sound. All around the city, people were staring at the carnage that had come out of nowhere.

A figure emerged from the woods. It was a man, bloody, bruised, and battered, covered with scars from whips. His hands were tied, and on his broken body he wore the tattered remnants of a Royal Artillery captain’s uniform. Another figure came up behind him. This one was a girl, perhaps in her late teens, petite and slender, but well-muscled. Despite being far smaller than the man, she was clearly in dominant control of him.

She spoke in a commanding but feminine voice. “Cowards of the male kingdom! Did you think you would be safe behind your walls? Think again, fools! Your comrade here was kind enough to train us in the use of these cannons we captured from you, after a little ‘encouragement,’ of course. You cannot run and you cannot hide from the Amazon Nation! The Mother Goddess will never be denied her vengeance!”

“Kill her!” ordered the Governor. Dozens of muskets spit flame, but the girl had already begun executing a lightning-fast series of standing back handsprings, elegantly backflipping like a pro-gymnast into the cover of the woods, dodging all the musket balls easily. After she disappeared, the artillery officer was left standing there alone, staring up at the people he had betrayed. “Traitor! Coward!” came the shouts from the citizens.

“Please!” he begged. “They tortured me…”

“Silence, turncoat!” boomed the Governor. He pointed to the decapitated heads of the other three officers impaled on the spear. “They were tortured too, but they had the balls to stay loyal to their king and country! And you did not! By the authority vested in me by His Majesty, I sentence you to death for treason. Guards, kill him!”

The soldiers, in a bloodthirsty mood and wanting to lash out at something, needed no encouragement. They opened fire and the traitor dropped dead like a sack of potatoes, at least twenty musket balls in him. The citizens cheered at his death, the only thing they had to celebrate that day. Cheering loudest of all was the dead traitor’s own wife, a musket that she had snatched from a soldier in her silk-gloved hands. She had aimed for his groin and her shot had hit true.

The cheering stopped abruptly, however, as the Amazons began firing the captured cannons again. The soldiers fired back with the cannons mounted on the city walls, but the enemy guns were well hidden in the woods and trying to knock them out was blind guesswork.

And so it continued. Each day, another forty or fifty men died from Amazon cannon fire. Each day, the sturdy stone wall around the city grew a little weaker. To make matters worse, the Amazon girls also began using hit-and-run tactics, in which horsewomen would ride out from the woods, fire expertly aimed shots from their bows, dropping several males dead each time, and retreat back into cover before the defenders could respond. Soon, the wall became fully breached in several places, forcing men to be pulled off of other duties to keep each opening guarded. Makeshift barricades of overturned wagons and old furniture were placed at the gaps. Reserves for the dozens of soldiers who died each day were running thin, and boys and old men were starting to be pressed into military service. And to the defenders’ unending frustration, they had no way to tell whether their own cannon fire was having any effect on the enemy. The increase in the intensity of the enemy fire indicated that either it was not, the Amazons were bringing up more captured cannons from the overrun outposts, or both.

Getting news from the outside world was impossible. During the first few nights of the siege, scouts and spies had been sent out quietly from the walls to try to gather information about the enemy positions and what was happening in other towns. And each morning, like clockwork, the corpses of the spies sent out the previous night would be tossed out of the woods, perforated with arrows, impaled with spears, or simply sliced and diced into small pieces. After the fourth night, the Governor had ordered the spy patrols stopped.

The Amazon espionage missions had far more success. Under the cover of night, girl warriors snuck out of the woods with catlike stealth. Evading the gazes of the guards, they used their gymnast-like strength and agility to scale the walls, then wreaked havoc inside the town before escaping. Cannons were booby-trapped to explode when fired. Food, water, and ammunition were stolen. And men were executed by girl-assassins with knives, swords, axes, and bows. One night, two teenage girls slipped into the city, silently slaughtered thirty-seven male victims, and slipped back out into the woods without a single hair in their elegant coiffures being disturbed. Morale among the defenders plunged to rock bottom. As they waited for the inevitable mass attack, people even began talking about evacuating the city by sea. The great Colonial Capital that had stood proud and dominant on the island for two hundred years was being humbled by an army of tanned, long-haired, pretty girls.

The day of the attack was not long in coming. One cold morning, just before dawn, a terrifying, high-pitched female warrior cry came from the woods, directly opposite one of the breaches in the wall. The sound was accompanied by the pounding of footsteps and hoofbeats. “They’re coming! To arms, to arms! To the breach!”

Sleepy men grabbed their muskets and raced to the opening. “Positions! Take aim!” barked an officer. “Don’t fire until I give the order!”

The men waited. And waited. Suddenly, horrible screams came from across town, at one of the other breaches in the wall. The Amazons had cleverly lured the main body of soldiers to one part of the city, then attacked and overwhelmed the few defenders at one of the other openings. Amazon cavalry was riding through the city, shooting down men with their bows and decapitating them with their swords.

The soldiers manning the cannons on the wall prepared to fire. Suddenly, devastatingly accurate volleys of arrows slammed into the artillerymen. Male bodies dropped like flies, arrows sticking out of various parts of their corpses. The few survivors could do nothing more than crawl away. Meanwhile, as the main body of infantry turned to meet the threat inside the walls, a second wave of horsewomen rode out towards the breach they had orignally been guarding, ready to finish the trap.

From a window on the third floor of his mansion, the Governor looked out at the scene sadly. Was this how it was going to end?

Suddenly, just as the top of the sun peeked over the horizon in the eastern sky, there came the deep, familiar sound of a war horn. Not an Amazon war horn, but the one of the Royalist army!

A volley of artillery fire from a large mass of cannons boomed. Grapeshot and canister were poured into the horsewomen charging towards the gap in the wall, dropping many. Though taken completely by surprise, the Amazon riders reacted swiftly and efficiently. With expert coordination, the survivors wheeled about and rode back into the cover of the woods. The Amazon cavalry still inside the walls reacted with the same expert skill. Shooting or riding down anyone in their way, they fled as quickly as they had charged, mounted girl-archers in the rear firing backwards over their shoulders with impressive accuracy to discourage men from shooting them in the backs as they rode away.

Over the crest of a ridge in the east appeared a massive force of Royalist cavalry, three thousand riders. Leading them was a beautiful young woman on a white horse. “It’s the Princess!” came the joyous cry from the defenders of the city. “Princess Katarina has come!”

The Royalist cavalry formed up, the Princess riding in front of them, her sword raised. “Make safe our city, in the name of the King!” she cried, her commanding but feminine and musical voice audible even in the distance. “Forth, and fear no darkness!” As the war-horn bellowed again, the riders let out a roar and charged down the hill, following their female commander. The men in the city joined in the shouting.

The riders thundered across the plain towards the city and the woods. Suddenly, from the cover of the trees, a volley of Amazon arrows came flying towards them, followed immediately by another, two groups of girl-archers executing a well-coordinated attack. Princess Katarina, with her quick reflexes, raised the shield strapped to her slender left arm, stopping two arrows that would have hit her face. Most of the males near her, however, were not as quick. Some dropped dead instantly, arrows in their brains, throats, or hearts. Others, including some who had gotten their shields up, were hit in their exposed legs by the first volley. As they dropped their shields with cries of pain, the second barrage of arrows finished them off. Still others had thought they could save their money by buying cheap wooden shields instead of well-built metal ones. Their penny-pinching cost them their lives, as the powerful bows of the Amazons sent arrows straight through the wood and into male flesh.

More arrows came flying at them. A lesser commander would have turned and run, dooming many of his men to being shot in the back and wasting the effort of the charge. But the Princess had balls. Not literally, of course, but the figurative kind. She let out a high-pitched warrior shirek, rallying her men though soldiers and horses were dropping dead all around them, expertly deflecting another arrow with her shield, urging her soldiers on faster.

Another woman on a white horse was in the woods. She, too was a Princess, but a Princess of the Amazon nation. Her name was Jenova, and she was the second daughter of the Queen and the commander of the Amazon advance force in the forest.

“My Lady!” A mounted teenage girl-warrior with a bow in her hand rode up to her. “Forgive me, my lady Jenova. Our arrows were not enough to stop them. They’re going to ride into us.”

“Shh,” whispered Jenova. “You did well. You slew many of them. Now have your girls fire one more volley, then retreat. It’s time for another group to fight.”

“Yes, milady.” As the archer rode off, Jenova stared at the woman leading the charge in the distance, wondering who she was and why a girl was leading this band of males.

As the riders approached the trees, Katarina drew her double-barreled pistol, gripping it tightly in her leather-gloved right hand, her shield still on her other arm. Though riding at top speed, her trained dark brown eyes were carefully scanning the wall of green. Suddenly, a look of alarm appeared on her face. “Ambush! Ambush! They’re hiding in the branches!”

Sure enough, a petite but muscular Amazon girl, a blade in each hand, launched herself from the nearest tree with a powerful front tuck somersault directly at Katarina. The Princess fired her pistol, killing her attacker in midair. Another Amazon hurled a spear at her. Katarina ducked. “LOOK OUT!” she shouted. The male soldier riding directly behind her wasn’t fast enough, however, and got impaled right in the center of his chest, the powerful throw sending the spear straight through his armor.

As the Royalist cavalry rode into the forest, Amazon girls dropped on them like rain from high up in the trees. Thanks to Katarina’s warning, some of the men were able to save themselves with their pistols. Others, however, were blinded by the Amazons’ speed and gymnastic skills, and met gruesome ends by Amazon blades after missing their pistol shots. Katarina, seeing an enemy about to stab one of her men, fired her second barrel, shooting her straight through the heart. The Princess then drew her sword, decapitating an axe-wielding Amazon who was leaping at her.

The battle in the woods was long and bloody, and many died on both sides. But thanks to superior numbers and Katarina’s leadership, the Royalists won the fight. The surviving Amazon warriors retreated by backflipping away with incredible speed and agility, causing most of the shots fired at them by the male soldiers to miss.

Behind the cavalry, thousands of Royalist infantrymen marched down the hill, splitting into two columns and securing the space surrounding the Colonial Capital. Meanwhile, more Royalist infantry landed at the docks and marched directly into the city itself.

Princess Jenova of the Amazons rode up to her older sister, Princess Livia, heiress to the throne. The two made a striking pair. Both were incredibly beautiful, but Jenova’s curly shoulder-length black tresses contrasted sharply with Livia’s long, straight auburn hair. It had been Livia who had commanded the girl-army that had massacred the eight thousand Royalist soldiers in the earlier battle. The torture of the four male officers and the execution of three of them had also been done on Livia’s orders.

“We did what damage we could while preserving as much of our forces as we could,” Jenova reported. “We have about eight hundred dead and several hundred wounded, but the enemy has suffered heavy losses too. Our archers are still picking off men at the edges of their columns, but we’re going to have to retreat into the interior of the island soon, before they can organize a pursuit. Most of the wounded have already been put on horses and are back on their way to our fortifications.”

“Those males have been so cowardly and weak,” said Livia. “Why do they fight like they have balls all of a sudden? Our arrows should have cut their cavalry charge to pieces just like it did on the Plain of Victory four weeks ago. The city should be ours.”

“A woman leads them now,” Jenova replied.

“Ah, that explains that,” said Livia, nodding. “But that doesn’t explain why a woman is leading those males in the first place. Tell me, sister. What does she look like?”

“She is tall, slender, and beautiful. She would look exactly like one of us if she dressed like us. She even has darkly tanned brown skin like we do. It was her leadership that won the day for the enemy. Without her, the men would have crumbled. If we could capture her alive and convince her to join us, she could be a very powerful ally indeed.”

“An interesting idea, little sister. But we must also remember how dangerous she is. At any rate, now is not the time for such discussions. We must regroup and plan our next attack.” Livia clenched her fists. “I just hate losing battles. This is the first one I’ve ever lost. I need to let my rage out…hello, I think I see just what the herbalist ordered.” She turned to a young woman with a crossbow standing nearby. “Give me that.”

“Yes, milady.” The girl-archer bowed and handed the weapon over. About 300 yards away, a male soldier was helping a wounded comrade get up. He placed the injured man on a horse, then got on himself. Livia grinned wickedly and took careful aim. Her accuracy was lethal and perfect, despite the great distance. The large, thick, cruelly barbed steel bolt flew through the air with tremendous speed and power, impacting the second man in the back, driving all the way through his armor, through his torso, through the armor on his front side, and coming to rest in the body of the first man after penetrating his armor as well. Both soldiers dropped dead to the dirt. Livia handed back the crossbow, laughing aloud at her markswomanship. “Come on, let’s go.” She began to ride away, still smirking.

The Colonial Capital was saved. Two large scouting parties, one to the northwest and one to the southwest, had been sent out to investigate the status of other towns in the island colony. Cavalry now regularly patrolled the nearby woods. The broken sections of the city wall were already being repaired. “Thank you for saving us, Princess,” said the Governor, bowing before Katarina submissively.

“You may stand, Governor,” she responded. “You did the best you could with what little forces you had left, after General Donner foolishly squandered most of them.” The Governor smiled with relief.

“What news from the battle?” she asked her chief of staff.

“Milady, our army suffered a thousand men dead, seven hundred badly wounded, and six hundred walking wounded. That’s only from our arriving force, it’s not counting the casualties among the city guard and the civilians. We lost more men than horses, so we can reassign some of our infantry as cavalry. We estimate that we destroyed about one-fifth of the enemy force, though keep in mind that their army was significantly smaller than ours. Most of their cavalry escaped, and we only managed to recapture two cannons, so they still have significant artillery strength.”

“Thank you, General. And of the earlier battle, I heard there were three survivors?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“I wish to speak with them immediately. Have them brought to me. After that, I am calling a council of war in one hour at the Governor’s mansion. All officers of the rank of lieutenant colonel and above should be there.”

After the men scurried to carry out her orders, Princess Katarina, left alone in relative peace and quiet for the first time in a while, sat down on an ornately carved stone bench overlooking a fountain, the water still flowing despite the siege and battle. She put her head in her hands. A thousand of her men dead. Plus likely several hundred more dead in the city. It was a delicate balance inside her between the tough warrior who knew that deaths were inevitable and the compassionate leader who cared deeply for the soldiers under her command.

Her thoughts turned to the future. The Amazons. How was she going to handle this? Was she even capable of handling this? After a single battle, she could say without question that they were the toughest opponents she had ever faced. Her side had had every advantage. Superior numbers. The element of surprise. Superior artillery firepower. And yet, the battle had essentially ended in a draw, or at best a minor victory for her side. What was going to happen when she met the Amazons in an even fight?

After speaking with the survivors of the first battle, Katarina felt even more intimidated by the Amazons. The men had described the enemy as having near-superhuman speed, unbelievable accuracy with bows and thrown weapons, expert knowledge of tactics, unshakeable courage, and the ability to learn and adapt incredibly fast.

Katarina was a powerful warrior princess in her own right. Though only twenty-three years old, she had already fought many battles, personally slain dozens of men in combat, and led Royalist troops to victory over larger armies time and again. Tall and intimidating, slender but muscular, powerful yet feminine, she looked quite the stereotypical female warrior. The daughter of King Frederick IX and his first wife, an exotic-looking noblewoman from a far-southern tribe, she had inherited her mother’s long, silky black hair and darkly tanned brown skin. Some men joked that she looked almost like an Amazon herself, though the similar deep tans of the Amazons and those of her mother’s tribe simply came from both groups living in warm climates. Their homelands were thousands of miles apart.

Katarina did not think of herself as having much in common with the Amazons…at least not yet. For now, her curiosity about them was motivated simply by her desire to know her enemy. Yes, she came from a society with a long tradition of sexism. It was unusual for women, even princesses, to lead armies in the kingdom, and it had taken several victorious battles for her to become the well-respected leader she was today. Yes, women had far fewer rights than men in her country. But her father was a good man who was trying to make things better. He had issued an edict making wife-beating illegal, and another allowing women to join some of the guilds. Not all, but some. And the throne…

The throne. It might even be hers someday. According to the law of the kingdom, the eldest son was first in line to inherit the throne, and daughters got the monarchy only if there were no available sons. She had one sibling, a younger brother, also named Frederick, called Junior to his face, but Little F behind his back, for Little Fuck-up. Twenty-one-year old Little F was not only dim-witted and utterly incompetent at everything from battle to money management, but also a cruel sadist. Everyone knew that he would make a terrible king, though some people still supported him for their own reasons. Some were as sadistic as he was, some hated the idea of a woman in power, and some wanted an incompetent fool who would be easy to manipulate rather than a strong leader.

But there was the rule, the Roslyn Rule, named for the queen who had been a distant ancestor. Way back then, King Frederick III had named his intelligent daughter, Roslyn, the heiress to the throne over her incompetent brother. That had started the tradition of a monarch being able to name another of his children his heir, if he deemed the eldest son would be a danger on the throne. In the five hundred years the Roslyn Rule had been in existence, it had only been used twice after the original proclamation. By the gods, it was time for it to be used again. Surely her father would not let the useless Little F on the throne…

Katarina was used to being the only woman in a room, as she was now in this council of war, held in the large basement of the Governor’s mansion. She looked over the various males in attendance. Some were courageous and intelligent men that she could always trust in battle. Others were cowardly fools who had only risen to their ranks because of political connections.

“How many soldiers do we have available here in fighting shape?” she asked.

“Milady, we have 13,000 infantry, 2500 cavalry, and 55 cannons,” her chief of staff answered.

She nodded. “We will send out two armies, following the paths our scouting parties took, one to the northwest and one to the southwest, to reclaim our land. Each army will have 6000 infantry, a thousand cavalry, and 20 cannons. We’ll keep 15 cannons in defense of the Colonial Capital, and 500 riders to patrol around the city.”

“But milady, that would leave only a thousand infantry in the city,” said one of her generals.

“Yes, plus the town guard,” she responded.

“Princess, the men of the town guard were decimated by the Amazon attacks. There are few men among them fit to fight,” the Governor said.

“Few men. That is true.” Katarina tossed her long black hair. “But women, on the other hand…We should be able to recruit two thousand young, fit female citizens of the city and arm them with muskets and bayonets. With them, plus the men of the town guard, the thousand Royalist infantrymen, and the cannons, that should be enough to hold the walls.”

Murmurs and whispers broke out in the room at the Princess’s idea. Some of the men approved of it, some were stubborn sexists who did not approve, and some were closeted schmoes – men who were sexually attracted to dominant, aggressive, weapon-wielding women – who were secretly turned on by the plan, but felt the need to express opposition to it to cover up their fetish. Actually, there was quite a bit of overlap between the second and third groups.

“Young ladies defending the Colonial Capital with muskets and bayonets? Preposterous!” shouted a fat colonel. “Girls would run and hide as soon as they saw the enemy coming!”

“The enemy? You mean the Amazons? Who are girls, the last time I checked, and who have shown that they can fight damn well, a whole lot better than anyone else who has gone up against the King’s army. And probably a whole lot better than a fat rear echelon mother fucker like you,” Katarina snapped.

The overweight officer dropped to his knees. “Forgive me, my Princess,” he begged.

She rolled her eyes. “Get up, sit down, and just keep your fat stupid mouth shut.”

“Yes, milady.” His voice was now barely above a whisper. Some of the other men were snickering at him.

“Getting back to business,” said Katarina. She turned to her chief of staff. “Have the soldiers ready to move out as soon as the scouts return. Governor, you will be in charge of recruiting the young women for city guard duty. Together, we will restore this colony to its former greatness.”

As the people in the Colonial Capital waited for the scouts to bring back news, their mood was far brighter than it had been in the past few weeks, although fear of the Amazons still ran high. The calm presence and strong leadership of Princess Katarina, however, helped their morale immensely.

The training of the female militia was coming along well. It was customary for girls as well as boys to learn how to use muskets, swords, and bayonets while growing up, so most of the training they required was learning how to fight together as large, cohesive units. The girls picked their new skills up quickly, and many of the male citizens became intimidated by, and attracted to, the new look of their women.

As for the Amazons, they seemed to be laying low for now. Katarina had issued strict orders for the cavalry patrolling around the city not to ride past certain boundaries. One patrol ignored the order, went past the boundaries, and disappeared, never to be seen again, although other riders reported hearing terrified screams of men being tortured far in the distance. After that, the horsemen kept close to the town. The Amazons were staying away from the walls, at least for the moment.

There was a knock on the door of Katarina’s large bedroom. “Come in,” she said.

An officer entered. “You wished to see me, milady?”

“Yes, Major. I was told that you’re the best military historian we have here. You know more about the Amazons than anyone else. I need you to tell me everything you know about them. Have a seat, I expect this will take a while.”

“Thank you, Princess. As far as we can tell, the Amazons have been on this island for at least several hundred years, maybe longer. We don’t know if they were the first inhabitants or if they were later conquerors. What we do know is that until relatively recently, they were split into warring clans that fought with each other as well as with male armies from other peoples. About a hundred years ago, a great warrior queen became the leader of one clan and conquered and unified all the others. She set up a well-organized monarchy that has been passed down through generations of daughters. The unified female empire began making war on the various male-dominated indigenous tribes of the island. The males didn’t stand a chance and fell one after another. But then, the queen realized that if the Amazons didn’t have any outsiders to fight, they might break up into squabbling clans again. So they set up a system that continues to this day. Basically, they handle the male-ruled tribes like cattle, keeping them boxed in, culling them from time to time, but never completely finishing them off.”

“Most interesting,” said Katarina. “Is there any chance of our exploiting old clan divisions within the Amazon nation?”

“I’m afraid not, milady. Even in the ages of warring clans, the Amazons had a strict rule. No band of female warriors was ever allowed to make an alliance with outsiders against another group of Amazons. The old ‘me against my brother’ policy, but with sisters.”

“Me against my sister, me and my sister against my cousin, me, my sister, and my cousin against the clan, the clan against the nation, and all of us against the outsider,” said the Princess, nodding. “A primitive but effective policy. Now, you’ve talked about the Amazons’ relationships with other tribes, but what about with our kingdom?”

“Although we’ve never had diplomatic relations of any kind with the Amazons, there was a sort of unwritten rule that as long as we stayed on our part of the island and they stayed on theirs, there wouldn’t be any trouble. A gentlemen’s agreement, or in this case a gentlemen’s and ladies’ agreement. Sometimes small groups of curiosity seekers would go into Amazon territory. None of them ever came out alive. Since it was obvious that the intrusions weren’t sanctioned by the kingdom, the Amazons were content with taking vengeance on the explorers themselves and not starting any bigger wars with us. I think they feared our modern technology. Unfortunately, now that they’ve faced it and seen its limitations, they’ve lost their fear of us, permanently, I’m afraid.”

“Well, we’ll just have to rekindle that fear,” said Katarina with a slight smile. “We show them we are not to be trifled with, we can restore the old borders, end their attacks, and bring back peace. Now can you tell me something of their social structure?”

“The Amazons have a strict hierarchy based on class. At the top are the warrior women. Every girl is trained in the arts of war as she grows up. When she comes of age, she must pass a test. Those who make it join the ranks of warriors and become full-fledged citizens of the Amazon Nation, with all the rights and privileges that come with it. Girls who fail their warrior test are not allowed to join the army and become farmers or merchants. They are second class citizens. Below them are the male slaves. There are two categories of slaves, the higher category being breeders. Strong, athletic men who are needed to mate with the women to produce strong babies. At the very bottom is the other category of male slaves. Those are simple laborers and are usually treated with sadistic cruelty, and are sometimes hunted and killed for sport. It’s actually the second class women and the breeder slaves who are the most cruel. The second class females go through their whole lives with resentment at not passing their warrior test, and take it out on the slaves. And the breeder slaves take out their anger at their enslavement on the lower slaves, beating them and sometimes even buggering them.” The officer shuddered at the thought.

“Most interesting,” said the Princess. “Since it’s the lower class women who seem to be the most fanatical and violent, it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to use class divisions either against the Amazon power structure. Thank you, Major. You’ve been most informative. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, milady.” The officer bowed and left the room. Katarina sat on her bed for a long time, thinking. Defeating these Amazons was not going to be easy, if it was even possible.

The Princess met with her senior officers again later that day. “We are going to make some changes,” she announced. “Too much of what we’ve been doing hasn’t been working. First of all, all infantry officers will instruct their men to fire at will in battle instead of firing volleys, which are too easy for the Amazons to dodge by doing timed backflips. Second, our armor. We’re getting rid of it. It can’t stop Amazon arrows from their longbows, it can’t stop bolts from their crossbows, and it can’t stop spears thrown by their powerful female arms. All it’s doing is slowing us down. Without it, we’ll be much faster both marching and riding. Cavalrymen will keep their shields. Any rider who somehow managed to survive the last battle with a cheap wooden shield is strongly urged to purchase a metal one instead.”

“Now, to the issue of command structure and rank. Those of you who reached your positions through nepotism, cronyism, or corruption, and you know who you are, hear this. You may be able to get away with the things you do on the mainland. But out here, there is no room for incompetence. I will be posting a list of officers whose rank has changed. Some of you will be promoted, and some demoted. If anyone has any objection to these changes and feels it is an insult to their honor, I am accepting challenges.”

As she had expected, there was quite a bit of grumbling among the officers who had been reduced in rank. Two former lieutanant colonels who had been busted down to major took her up on her offer and challenged her to duels. She chose pistols as the first weapon. Showing off her speed and markswomanship, Katarina shot her opponent in the hand before he could even take aim, causing him to drop his weapon with a cry of pain. For the second fight, she went with swords. She parried her attacker’s first swing easily, stunned him with a backflip kick to the face, and swiftly pressed her blade against his throat. After that, both officers humbly accepted their new positions, and there were no more challenges. The fat colonel (remember him?) who had objected to girls being made defenders of the city had been busted all the way down to private. He had blustered and threatened louder than anyone else, but hadn’t had the balls to challenge her. Everyone who had had to serve under him was overjoyed at his demotion, as he had been utterly incompetent and a total asshole.


The scouts had returned, reports had been made, battle plans had been drawn up. The massive Royalist army was assembled in the main square of the Colonial Capital, standing at attention as Princess Katarina addressed them. “The day you have been waiting for has arrived!” she shouted. “It is time to reclaim the land that our forefathers paid for with their blood. Today, we march! As we planned earlier, we will divide our forces in two. I will personally command the first army, which will advance to the northwest, where the scouts reported that the largest force of Amazons is located. The other will be commanded by General Norton. His army will sweep towards the southwest, liberating our towns and neutralizing any Amazon forces they encounter along the way. Now advance, in the name of the King!” The soldiers let out a loud cheer.

Katarina’s army advanced cautiously towards the northwest, deeper into the interior of the island and away from the safety and familiarity of the coast. Knowing what the Amazons were capable of and having seen their feminine handiwork up close and personal, the men couldn’t help feeling nervous. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing. Yet the cold fear was still there. Only the presence of Princess Katarina saved morale from getting too low. She rode from place to place along the long column of marching men, sometimes in the front, sometimes in the rear, speaking with them, checking if everything was okay, making sure that any problems that arose were nipped in the bud.

Right now, she was riding ahead of the main column with a scouting force of about fifty cavalrymen. She liked to spend as much time as she could with the scouts without neglecting her responsibilities to the rest of the army. She liked to know what was going on, what was coming up ahead.

As the trees on either side grew taller and thicker, she frowned. “I don’t like this, Captain,” she said to the scout commander. “The forest is getting so dense. It would be so easy for the Amazons to ambush us here.”

“The woods extend all across this part of the island, milady. There’s really no getting around them.”

“I understand, Captain. Still, we’d better be on extra alert until the trees thin out.”

“With respect, milady, I don’t expect an ambush here. We’re still relatively close to the coast, and our force is so large. I doubt the Amazons would bring an army of their own large enough to make an impact on us so far from their own lines.”

“Still, I just have this feeling…” She suddenly froze, stopping her horse. “Listen.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s just it. The birds. They’ve stopped singing.” She shouted as loudly as her feminine, musical voice would carry. “AMBUSH! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

Even as she spoke, the arrows came flying. Katarina’s shout saved many lives, as men raised their shields or took cover behind the wagons. It could only do so much, however, and many Royalist soldiers still fell, arrows sticking out of their bodies. Then it got worse. Artillery, captured by the Amazons, began booming. More men fell, the grapeshot and canister taken from the King’s army doing devastating damage to the very forces that had invented it.

The Princess forced herself to remain calm. She saw men panicking all around her, some firing wildly into the trees, some curling up on the ground, simply waiting to be impaled with an arrow or blown apart by cannon fire. She knew she had to act fast. She began screaming orders, hoping to save as many of her men as she could. “Infantry! Don’t just sit there! Odd numbered companies, advance into the woods and flush them out! Don’t fire unless you have a target! Even numbered companies, guard the supplies and stay covered by the wagons! Cavalry, ride with me! For the King, for the land!”

All along the column, men sprang into action. Remembering their training and fighting their fear, the strong leadership of the Princess reminded them that curling up into a ball was not the best way to go. The Royalist infantry began advancing. Men were still falling from arrows and cannon fire, but the lines did not break.

Katarina issued fresh orders to her cavalry. “Six companies of riders,” she called out, pointing to the commanders of each. “Ride around and double back. Try to trap the enemy between yourselves and our infantry. The other four companies, follow me. We’re going straight for the Amazon artillery.”

The Amazon girls firing the cannons, gleefully laughing as each shot resulted in horrified male screams in the distance, were shocked to see four hundred male riders, led by a woman, burst out of the woods and charge straight for them. Katarina, her pistol in her right hand, fired both barrels, killing two girls who were about to light the fuses to cannons. The men joined in, firing their pistols and carbines, dropping more Amazons. Some of the artillerywomen managed to turn and fire their big guns, blowing a few dozen men and horses to pieces, but the charge had been too sudden and swift to be stopped.

A band of girl-archers that had been placed nearby for just such an occasion fired a volley, killing several men in the front line of cavalry who couldn’t get their shields up in time. The Amazons took the opportunity to begin doing their trademark back handsprings to retreat, elegantly backflipping like pro-gymnasts to their horses, which they quickly mounted and rode away. The Royalists only managed to shoot down a few of the flick-flacking, difficult to hit women, and the horses were well out of range before the men could get the cannons turned around.

Katarina turned to an officer next to her. “Stay here until you can have infantry called up to guard the cannons. Even then, don’t pursue the Amazons, they’ll be long gone. Just secure the area. I’m going to help our men in the woods.” With that, she rode off, reloading her pistol as her horse galloped.

The battle in the forest was brutal and bloody. An Amazon could get four or five shots off with her bow for each shot a Royalist musketeer could fire. Still, the men preferred shooting at a distance, because in hand-to-hand combat the girl warriors could literally slice males to pieces with their swords before the men could even try to make a stab with their bayonets. The Royalist infantry was losing, being slowly pushed back, until their cavalry suddenly appeared on the other side of the Amazons. Not wanting to be trapped, the female fighters moved swiftly to the south, away from both the Royalist infantry and cavalry, to escape, firing arrows to cover their retreat.

Just as Katarina was about to reach the trees, a lone Amazon burst of of the woods, running. She hurled an axe at the princess, who got her shield up just in time. The weapon buried itself in the shield with a THUNK. Katarina continued her charge, simply trampling the girl underneath her horse.

Amazons were retreating, swiftly but not panicking. Katarina shot two of them dead with her pistol, then rode through them, slaying several of them with her sword, dodging spears thrown at her, and blocking arrows with her shield. She met up with her cavalry officers in a small clearing. In the distance came the sound of muskets still firing and arrows still whooshing.

“How was it?” she asked. At the edge of the clearing, a male soldier had been pinned to a tree by an arrow through his heart. Next to him was a pile of arms, legs, torsos, and heads – it was difficult to tell how many men they had belonged to.

“Bad, but it could have been a lot worse. They ran when they saw us about to close the trap. It was a near run thing, our boys were losing.”

She nodded. “Get the wounded to the wagons and secure the area. When it’s safe, we’ll bury the dead.”

Livia and Jenova, the Amazon princesses, stood by the large command tent, watching as the female army that had been sent to ambush the Royalists came riding up. The leader of the strike force dismounted and bowed to the princesses. “My Ladies.”

“How did the battle go? Did you annihilate them?” Livia asked eagerly.

“Um…not exactly, my Princess. We got them good at first, but instead of sitting there and waiting to be slaughtered they actually found their balls and counterattacked. It was their female leader, she was the one who gave them that strength. Then we were beating them again, but their cavalry appeared behind us and we had to retreat to avoid being trapped. The good news is that our casualties were relatively light and we killed a lot more of theirs than they killed ours.”

“Where are the cannons?” Livia demanded.

“I’m sorry, milady. We had to leave them behind.”

“I see.” Livia turned her back, then, in a lightning move, drew her sword and brutally decapitated the girl!

Jenova grabbed her sister’s arm. “What the fuck are you doing?! This is not the Amazon way!”

Livia shook Jenova off. “It is MY way, and I am the heiress to the throne! This fool committed the ultimate sin! She let herself be run off by a group of MALES! That is unforgivable! And to add insult to injury, she lost ten cannons to the enemy! Not only that, but those males may be becoming less scared of us! We rely on our reputation as invincible goddesses to strike fear into the hearts of men before battle even begins! Do you know how much weaker we will be if we lose that?”

“In all fairness, sister, they were led by a woman. It’s not like she lost to a male commander. Anyway, you can’t just execute an Amazon warrior without trial. The Queen will not approve.”

“We shall see what the Queen approves. You do not speak for her, little sister. Now let’s get back to business. I guess the old saying is true. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. I will personally command the next attack. Now here’s what we’re going to do…”

The Royalist army had made camp for the night. The sentries were on double duty. Katarina turned to her chief of staff. “Do you have the count?”

“Yes, milady. Five hundred of our men are dead. Three hundred more are wounded too badly to fight, and will have to be evacuated to our nearest fort. Enemy casualties were relatively light, maybe 150 or 200 dead, but we recaptured all ten cannons they used in the ambush.”

The Princess nodded. “The men also now know that the Amazons are not invincible goddesses, and it is possible to survive an ambush by them. They are human. Extremely strong, fast, and lethal humans, but still just humans. That’s the good news. The bad news is that they are very swift at learning from their mistakes. I fully expect us to be ambushed again before we reach Amazon territory, and it will be more clever next time.”

Katarina saw several men gulp. She tried to give them an encouraging smile. Overhead, the once clear, starry sky was clouding up. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.

THE END…for now