Katrina looked at her surroundings. In a coconut tree nearby, she saw movement.
Perched high in the coconut tree was a woman wearing camouflage and holding a sniper rifle. She gestured to Katrina to look around. Katrina scanned the area. When she looked carefully, she could see dozens and dozens of commandos disguised in the foliage. Many were also perched in tall trees and holding sniper rifles. All of them, it appeared, were young women.
The sniper in the tree next to Katrina held her finger to her lips for silence. Katrina clung to the tree and remained still.
Minutes later the throng of the Red Sword army rushed toward them. Katrina watched the sniper carefully take aim through her scope, sighting a man who was running a few steps ahead of the others. The woman’s finger was on the trigger now, gently pressing . . . squeezing . . .
The rifle fired a silenced shot. Katrina watched as the pith helmet on the lead man flew off his head. He did a little Texas two-step to the side before dropping like a brick.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
Quiet, lethal shots rained down on the surprised men. The female snipers swatted them like flies.
“Yeeeeuuurrhhh!” screamed one man as his guts got ripped with a high-caliber round. He looked down at the awful wound and twisted his face in agony. With graceless motion, he crumpled up and bit the dust.
Another man got nailed in the center of the chest. He staggered a bit and fired his machine gun ineffectively into the sky. He plopped down, dead in the weeds.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
A man got caught in several snipers’ scopes. He got splattered with red in three places as the bullets ended his terrorism career prematurely.
Soldiers dropped to their bellies and fired back, but the female commandos shot them dead. A row of Red Sword men lying prone bounced against the dirt when rifle shots raked over them. Another cluster of soldiers was scurrying around in disarray when sniper fire picked them off; they tripped over each other and fell, forming a pile of dead men. The young hotshots were no match for the deadly sniper chicks; they knew if they stayed where they were, they’d be fertilizer for the next crop of coconuts.
“It’s an ambush! Retreat!” shouted one soldier before his head got blown off.
The men turned and ran. Many of them took slugs in the back as they fled, their dead bodies falling headfirst and skidding in the dirt.
The sniper girls gave chase as the men headed for the hills.
Katrina slid down the trunk of the coconut tree and rushed over to the first sniper she’d seen, who was also descending her tree.
“Thank you!” said Katrina effusively. “You saved me! I can’t thank you enough!”
“Just doing our job,” said the sniper. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” said Katrina. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“We’re commandos with GSL,” the woman replied. “We were sent in to extricate you and neutralize the Red Sword threat on this island.”
“But I thought I was supposed to do it alone,” said Katrina.
“Alone?” said the sniper in surprise. “Who gave you that crazy idea?”
“Laura back at GSL.”
“Well, I don’t know who ‘Laura’ is, but I’ve never heard of the Super Agents doing jobs alone. The Special Forces Commandos are almost always called in to assist.”
Katrina frowned. “I’m really confused.”
“Quite understandable,” the sniper said, “considering you nearly DID wipe out the Red Sword without our help. We got our orders a little late because of a technical glitch. We were worried you might be dead.”
“No, I’m still alive,” said Katrina, “but I’m barely hanging on right now.”
“We’ll get you out of here soon,” said the sniper. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Christine and Jen here will take you back to the landing craft. I’ve got to join my girls and hunt down the rest of those scumbags.”
Katrina walked toward the beach accompanied by two pretty but tough-looking Special Forces girls carrying machine guns. They led her aboard the landing craft and told her to wait there. Katrina welcomed the chance to lean back and relax after several days of nonstop action.
Katrina kept wondering, What happens next? What does Laura have in store for me?
Before nightfall, the commando team returned to the landing craft, victorious in their battle against the Red Sword. As the women shuffled aboard the landing craft, bruised and exhausted, they carried trophies claimed from the dead bodies of their victims: seashell necklaces, goofy pith helmets, and pairs of red swim trunks, many of which had curious stains on them.
Katrina sat up expectantly and looked into the eyes of a girl marching aboard the landing craft.
“How’d we do?”
“Kicked ‘em in the balls,” the girl smiled. “All dead. No survivors, no prisoners.”
“Did we lose anyone?”
“Not a single one. Some wounded; that’s it.”
As the tired women filed onto the boat, Katrina swelled with pride. She was proud to belong to such an elite organization with so many other badass women, all doing their job to keep the world safe. She sat back down, eager to get started on the voyage home . . .
The next few days were a blur to Katrina. She returned to GSL Headquarters and was inundated with physical exams and debriefing sessions. It wasn’t until three days after her return that she finally saw Laura, her mentor. Katrina angrily demanded to know why Laura had given a low estimate of the number of Red Sword terrorists she would face. Laura explained to her that they had no intention of making Katrina wipe out the second Red Sword base, just the first. They thought that that alone was an ambitious objective. But Katrina had carried out her mission flawlessly, and had even taken the initiative to attack the second island base. For that, Laura was full of praise.
“You’ve exceeded our expectations,” said Laura. “You’ve performed better than our wildest dreams.”
Katrina sulked. “It was misleading. I could’ve been killed; there were hundreds of ‘em just waiting to take a crack at me for what I did to their first island base. Why didn’t you just tell me what I was up against?”
“We were conducting an experiment,” said Laura. “We wanted to see if you were capable of wiping out 200 enemy soldiers by yourself. We had no idea you’d hop the ferry and actually try to hit the magic number.”
“You lied to me.”
“Lying to an operative is part of the business.”
“Then I don’t want anything to do with this business,” said Katrina as she stood to leave.
“Katrina, you might reconsider quitting when I tell you your compensation for this mission,” said Laura as she pulled an envelope out of her folio and handed it to Katrina.
Katrina opened the envelope and looked at the check printed inside. Her eyes bulged.
“You can’t be serious!” said Katrina. “This is more money than I thought I’d make in a lifetime!”
“It’s all yours, Katrina,” said Laura. “But somehow I think the pay is not the only thing that will keep you employed with us.”
“What do you mean?”
Laura smirked. “Let’s face it, Katrina: you and I both have Lesch’s Syndrome. I’m sure you’ve already discovered one of the curious side effects of our condition – the sexual stimulation that occurs from the thrill of the chase, the defeat of the enemy?”
Katrina blushed. “Yeah, I noticed that.”
“You get sexually aroused, turned on, when you’ve got a man in your grip,” said Laura breathlessly, as if remembering covert missions from her own past. “You hold his life in your hands. You can let him go . . . or you can CRUSH him like a bug. He pleads for his life . . . he begs for it . . . but it only makes you hotter, hornier . . . You feel a swelling in your loins . . . you have to satisfy it . . . there’s only one way . . . He looks into your eyes . . . he knows he’s had it . . . you smile . . . the feeling overtakes you . . . and then . . . and then . . .”
Katrina stared in amazement as Laura stuck her hand down her blouse and caressed her own breasts.
“And then . . . you take his life . . . you slay him with whatever means you have at your disposal. He dies . . . horribly, violently . . . maybe even cumming as he’s killed . . . and you . . . you stand over him, triumphant . . . the superior sex . . . Your arousal carries you away . . . bliss . . . paradise . . . Yes, paradise . . .”
Laura’s voice trailed off. Sweat beaded on her skin. She regained her composure.
“Well, those were the old days,” said Laura, straightening up. “I’m not authorized to go on missions anymore, but I’ve never forgotten that feeling. You’re lucky, Katrina. You’re just starting out. You have a lot more experiences like that ahead of you. There’s nothing quite like it, nothing in the world. So enjoy your paycheck, and enjoy the thrills.”
Katrina stood to leave. “I know what you mean, Laura. I know that feeling, too. So tell me: when’s my next mission?”
Laura was glad that her protégé was eager to get back to work. “Soon enough, dear. It appears that some leadership elements of the Red Sword are already trying to regroup and form a so-called ‘New Front.’ There will undoubtedly be many fresh recruits among their ranks in the near future. I suggest you take some time off. We’ll contact you when we need your services again.”
Katrina’s face lit up. “Does that mean . . . I can go home?”
“Yes,” said Laura. “You can go home and visit your family and friends. Of course, you can never speak a word to them about it. And be careful not to grandstand with your physical power or your money, okay?”
Katrina was too excited to speak. She just nodded her head and hugged Laura before turning and running.
When Katrina came home, everyone was thrilled to see that she was still alive. When she disappeared after the GSL abducted her on her high school graduation night months earlier, no one thought they’d ever see her again. Yet here she was, looking strong, healthy, and happy. Her mother was overjoyed. Her friends were glad to see her again. All of them wanted to know where the hell she’d been . . .
“I ran away and traveled the world,” Katrina told them.
They didn’t really buy it, but they were too happy to have her home to question it.
Months passed, and Katrina happily spent her free time with friends and trying to spend her money inconspicuously. Only once was she tempted to use her special abilities: a guy at a nightclub was dancing and rubbing himself lewdly against Katrina and her friends. She just gave him a nasty nut-squeeze that made him puke and run away.
One day Katrina was having her nails done when her cell phone rang.
Katrina felt a sudden twinge in her stomach. It was the call she’d been both dreading and anxiously awaiting.
“What is it?”
“We need you to report back by this Thursday.”
“Thursday?” said Katrina. “So soon?”
“You’ve had plenty of vacation time,” said Laura. “We need you right away.”
Katrina had been having a lot of fun, but she knew it couldn’t last. Although it felt like the end of summer break and she had to return to school, she was excited about the prospect of new adventures.
“All right,” said Katrina, “Tell me where to meet you and I’ll be there.”
Katrina abruptly told everyone that she was taking another trip. Before they could ask her to explain her mysterious behavior, she was on an executive jet with Laura back to GSL Headquarters.
“The Red Sword is regrouping in Southeast Asia,” Laura informed Katrina. “They’re calling it the ‘New Front of the Red Sword,’ the NFRS, or something silly like that. These people are brutal, Katrina. They have no serious political agenda; all they want is to sow anarchy and mayhem around the civilized world. They’re hedonistic, nihilistic, and they’re armed to the teeth. Naturally, that sort of philosophy attracts a lot of young males. They’ve grown exponentially in number; they may have more forces now than when you last confronted them.”
“Unbelievable,” said Katrina as she read the mission file. “These bastards murder little children.”
“True,” said Laura. “They have no qualms about killing others, so you need to have no qualms about killing them.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“We know that they have several bases of operation throughout Southeast Asia,” said Laura. “But we need to know specifics. Your first job is to track down one of their officers, a man nicknamed Big Ting.”
Katrina giggled. “Big Ting? Are you shitting me?”
“I shit you not,” laughed Laura. “Ting is in Bangkok right now. He’ll know where some of these bases are. We want you to get the information out of him before you terminate him. Do you think your interrogation skills are good enough?”
“I think so.”
“Good. We’ll get you on the first plane to Thailand . . .”
Katrina got herself ready in a filthy room located in some flophouse in the red light district of Bangkok. She laughed, thinking how appropriate the name ‘Bangkok’ was for this city of sin.
Just in case someone might recognize her from the last mission, Katrina wore a shocking violet wig to conceal her blonde hair. She dolled herself up with lots of makeup, trying to look as trashy as possible to disguise herself as just another hooker. Next she donned a rhinestone-studded tube bra, a very short and tight red latex miniskirt, and a pair of stiletto-heeled, thigh-high boots whose patent leather fit snugly over her shapely legs.
Katrina posed in front of a full-length mirror. “Dressed to kill,” she said.
After walking far too long in heels that were far too tall, Katrina finally found the address of the sleaze joint where Big Ting was getting his fancy tickled. She strutted inside and headed straight upstairs to the VIP rooms.
Outside Ting’s room was a scurvy dog of a man who looked like a bodyguard. He stood leering at Katrina as she sashayed up to him.
“What’s cookin’ big fella?”
“Go away, bitch,” hissed the bodyguard. “They’ve already got three girls in there.”
“I didn’t come here for them,” said Katrina as she put her hand on his balls, “I came here for YOU.”
The towering bodyguard jumped slightly at the hand on his nuts. He smiled, flattered that the boss had finally coughed up the dough to give him a whore of his own.
Katrina shoved him in the chest toward the open door of a bathroom. He didn’t resist. She slammed the door shut behind them and backed the man up against the sink.
“Now strip!” Katrina commanded him. She was enjoying playing the dominatrix.
The man, however, was a little skeptical of being the submissive. He played along and took off his clothes. Katrina stood face to face with him. His breath stank, but she tried not to show her displeasure. Placing both of her hands under his butt, Katrina lifted the big man up and onto the porcelain bowl of the sink. It was a miracle the sink didn’t collapse under his weight.
The bodyguard was surprised at Katrina’s strength. He leaned back on the sink and stared at her, wondering what she was going to do next. Katrina slowly fondled his cock, exciting him with playful fingers over its stretching skin. The man moaned joyfully as the ‘dominatrix’ stroked him to a grand erection.
As Katrina stroked him and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, she secretly reached behind him and took the metal faucet of the sink in her hand. With a powerful twist of the wrist, Katrina bent the faucet from the horizontal so that it stood straight up.
“Oh, feels good,” the bodyguard moaned as Katrina kept stroking him.
“If you think this feels good,” said Katrina, “then tell me how THIS feels.”
Katrina lifted the man again, this time impaling his ass on the bent faucet. He howled, but Katrina quickly shut his mouth with her hand. The man’s eyes crossed as the plumbing fixture rode up his rear; he was clearly in a state of intense pain and unparalleled pleasure. His whole body shook upon penetration.
Katrina kept him down and twisted him on the faucet. She ground him into it, so that he took the faucet deeper into his ass. The man fought with her, but he couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of him. She relentlessly forced him down, occasionally lifting and dropping him so that he was getting butt-fucked by the faucet.
“Feels good?” said Katrina in a sexy voice. “I bet you like it up the ass, don’t you?”
The man only made muffled screams.
Katrina made him ride the pipe harder and harder, eventually slamming him down so that his ass was wrapped tightly over the faucet.
“Now comes the good part,” said Katrina as she reached over and turned on the water.
His innards immediately began to fill with hot water as Katrina kept him pinned down on the faucet. The sensation was too much for him: he was in pain, but it was an exceptionally exquisite form of pain. The man turned beet red as his belly distended from all the water he was soaking up. Katrina wouldn’t let him up.
“There you go,” said Katrina. “Just feel that nice, warm water filling you up. Don’t try to fight it.”
The man twitched and screamed more muffled screams. His cock flopped around and, possibly because the sink fixture was pressing against an erogenous part of his prostate, his seed shot out in big sprinkles.
The bodyguard suffered a little longer, then finally succumbed to the fatal ass-screwing. He slumped over the sink as Katrina let him go. Water was pouring over the floor now, so she turned off the tap. She left him there, planted on the sink.
“Gotta go, big guy.”
Katrina kicked down the door to Big Ting’s room. She immediately counted three women and three men sprawled out on mattresses in the room. However, they weren’t all paired off. One prostitute was getting it doggie-style from one man while she sucked the cock of another. Big Ting was several yards away with the other two whores, drilling one of them while the other licked her partner’s tits. They all jumped when Katrina barged in.
“Get lost, girls,” Katrina commanded the hookers. “These guys are mine.”
The three women seemed to get the idea that something bad was happening, so they quickly extricated themselves from the men and scuttled naked out the door.
Big Ting motioned to the other two men to throw Katrina out of the room. The two guys were clearly pissed off; Katrina had given them both a bad case of coitus interruptus. Their balls were blue and their dicks were ready to burst as they marched angrily toward Katrina.
The two men clapped their hands on Katrina’s shoulders and were about to shove her out when she windmilled her arms around and broke their grip. They looked stunned. They tried to grab her again, but she deflected them. With a savage look on her face, Katrina reached forward and grabbed both men by their throats. She lifted them off the ground and let them dangle in her grip. The men looked so surprised by this turn of events, they had no idea what to do. Their feet kicked in midair. They vainly clawed at Katrina’s hands to break free, but that didn’t work. It quickly dawned on them that they were choking. Katrina compressed their throats further, flattening their windpipes and constricting their arteries. They turned blue. Their eyelids drooped. Their arms and legs stopped kicking. But because they’d been interrupted right at the point of sexual release, their dicks were still hard. Katrina delivered the fatal squeeze to their throats right as they started to shoot their loads. White stuff drizzled on the floor as the two men asphyxiated in Katrina’s grip. They pumped a little bit of their genetic juice even after they were dead; when they we finished spurting, Katrina flung their wasted bodies down onto the mattress.
Big Ting looked at Katrina in awe.
“I know you,” he said. “I know who you are! You’re the assassin woman who destroyed our island bases off the Philippines!”
“That’s me,” said Katrina.
“Please . . . don’t hurt me. I’m not really a Red Sword member. I don’t care about them at all. Why don’t you let me go?”
“Maybe I’ll let you go,” said Katrina, “if you give me some information about this ‘New Front’ of the Red Sword.”
“What do you want to know?” said Ting. “I’ll tell you anything if you promise to let me go.”
“Tell me where your bases are.”
“That’s easy,” said Ting as he reached for a pocket in his trousers lying on the floor. “I have a list of them right here.” He pulled out a small piece of paper. “They’re all over the place: Laos, Indonesia, Thailand, the United States, Canada, United Kingdom . . . all over the place.”
“Which ones are the biggest?”
“Right now, the one in Laos.”
“Thanks for that information.”
Katrina sat down on the mattress next to Ting and took the paper from him, shoving it into her glittery tube bra. She smiled and leaned closer, but Ting looked at two of his dead associates lying nearby and recoiled in fear.
“What’s the matter?” asked Katrina. “Don’t you want to play with me?”
“Play?” said Ting apprehensively.
“Yeah, play. When I walked in on you, you certainly looked like you knew how to play with girls. Why not play with me now?”
Ting knew it was a ruse, but he didn’t have an alternative. Katrina’s lethal efficiency was already legendary among the surviving ranks of the Red Sword, so he figured this was his last chance to get some pussy.
Ting reclined on the mattress as Katrina moved in on him. She rubbed his chest and moved her hands down to his prick, working to get it up again. It didn’t take long for the man to grow erect; he looked into Katrina’s sexy eyes, looked up and down her smooth, scantily clad body, and he wanted her.
Katrina leaned back and spread her legs apart so that Ting could see up her skirt. She wasn’t wearing underwear. This made him wild with anticipation. His dick throbbed as he leaned forward, hoping to poke it under that red latex miniskirt and get a touch of her bush. But Katrina shoved him back down with her legs.
“Not so fast, mister,” said Katrina. “I don’t want your ‘big ting’ sticking my ‘little ting’ just yet.”
Katrina rubbed the man’s chest with her boots, the tall, patent leather shafts sliding easily over his skin. Ting touched them with his fingers; he seemed to like the boots immensely. Still feeling like a dominatrix, Katrina shoved the sole of her boot into the man’s face.
Normally, a badass like Ting wouldn’t take orders from a woman, but because he knew that Katrina was a Super Agent assassin from the GSL, he had no choice. He stuck out his tongue and began to lick the sole of her boot, tasting some of Bangkok’s finest grit in the process.
“Now the other one!”
Katrina shifted the other foot in Ting’s face, and he obliged her by running his tongue over the sole. When he cleaned it off, Katrina reached down and began to unzip one of her thigh-high boots.
“Since you seem to like them so much,” said Katrina as she slowly slipped off the tall, shiny boot, “I’m going to give you a closer look.”
Katrina crawled over Ting’s chest and held the unzipped boot in front of his face. The warm scent of leather and sweat seemed to evoke an untamed feeling in the Red Sword officer. His eyelids fluttered as Katrina rubbed the shiny leather across his cheek, its odor causing him to make heaving sighs. Katrina drew the five-inch stiletto heel of the boot across his lips. His mind seemed to go to another place as he closed his eyes and drank it up. Katrina straddled him the whole time, her damp snatch hovering just inches above his pulsating shaft.
“You wanna know what’s funny about these boots?” said Katrina. “It kills to wear them. And I’m not talking about wearing them on your feet.”
Quick as lightning, Katrina wrapped the supple leather of the boot once completely around Ting’s throat and yanked down hard, holding the top of the shaft in one hand and the foot in the other. Ting’s eyes opened wide as he coughed and gagged. His face twisted in horror as he realized how he’d been seduced and fallen into the assassin’s trap. She lured him in with sex and instead gave him death. He jerked around and tried to break free. His fingers tried to pry away the strangling boot. Nothing worked. He was history. He was finished. A young woman was choking the life out of him. He had no choice but to try to wank himself one last time.
Ting reached down and grabbed his cock with both hands. He was losing air, losing consciousness, but he had to make a last stand. He felt the underside of his stiff cock rubbing against the smooth latex of Katrina’s miniskirt, and he knew he could do it. He banged and banged on it, the whole time feeling his vitality slip away. It was impossible to breathe with Katrina wrapping that boot tighter and tighter over his throat. He turned colors. His lungs burned. But after a few more seconds of cock slapping, he felt it rise within. He plastered the front of Katrina’s red miniskirt with white jism.
Katrina felt Ting let go, so she finished him off with a final, strangling tug of her leather boot. This final jolt caused him to send a high-flying blast of cum that splattered Katrina right in the face.
“Ewwww!” said Katrina as she wiped it off her face and released her hold on her boot.
Ting fell back against the mattress, dead but with a faint smile on his face.
Katrina finished wiping clean and looked down at her victim, shaking her head.
“I gotta admit,” said Katrina, “you got me good. Now I know why they called you ‘Big Ting.’”
Katrina slipped on the boot she’d just used to kill Ting and zipped it up. At the door she turned around to look one last time at the three men she’d strangled to death. She smiled and left, her deadly high heels clicking on the floor.
It didn’t take long for GSL Headquarters to analyze the information Katrina obtained from Big Ting. They verified that it was authentic, and not long afterwards they approved a reconnaissance and infiltration mission for the base in Laos.
It was Katrina’s mission.
Katrina studied maps and plans of the area for several days. She also honed her fighting skills and did some conditioning exercises. Once Laura and GSL were satisfied that Katrina was ready, they let her go.
Katrina hiked through the forests and into the highlands where the Red Sword base was located. It was a long and lonely trek, but Katrina enjoyed spending time outdoors in a new place.
GSL had outfitted Katrina with plenty of gear and clothing for the mission. She carried it all in a large backpack. She wore her favorite type of clothing for the warm climate of the tropics: a bikini. It was a black g-string bikini that showed off her fabulous curves and her superior level of fitness. She had discarded the wig disguise and was a natural blonde again. She wore a new pair of trendy running shoes and, as always, her special gold anklet with a heart-shaped charm. This was all she needed; her body was the weapon, and the less she had to encumber it, the better.
Katrina came across the first landmark that told her she was near her destination: a deep river gorge with a rope bridge suspended across it. She consulted her map and decided that she needed to cross the bridge. She was about to set foot on it when she saw a group of men approach the bridge at the opposite end. Shirtless and wearing only red Speedo-style swimsuits, the eight men were unmistakable: Red Sword. They began to cross the rope bridge.
“Don’t these guys watch any movies?” said Katrina to herself. “Whenever there’s a scene with a rope bridge, it always ends in certain death.”
Katrina crouched in the bushes and waited until all eight men were on the bridge. When the last man set foot on the rickety span, Katrina jumped out of the bushes and grabbed the anchor points at her end. She started rocking the ropes, causing the bridge to sway more violently than the strongest wind could manage. The bridge twisted and rippled, catching the men off guard. Four of them didn’t grab hold of the ropes in time, and they were instantly cast over the side, plunging them more than a hundred feet to the rocks below. They landed in quick succession, making four, gruesome ‘thuds.’
The other four men were still hanging on, but by now Katrina had managed to shake the bridge so badly that all of them slipped over the side and were just hanging on by their hands, dangling at a dizzying altitude. As quickly as she started the swaying, Katrina stopped the bridge from moving. She traversed the span toward the first man hanging over the side.
The man looked up at Katrina and at first thought someone was going to rescue him. But then it occurred to him that she was the one who’d shaken the bridge in the first place, so it wasn’t likely she was a friend.
“Please help! Save me!” the men shouted in unison.
Katrina looked down at the first man and said, “I don’t think so.”
Katrina stepped down on the man’s hand with her foot, grinding the sole of her shoe into his fingers. He let one hand go. Katrina put her foot down on his other hand and stomped the fingers. The man tried to hold on, but his fingers slipped off and he was riding gravity to his grave.
“NOOOOOoooooooooo . . . !”
Katrina stood over the second man. He had seen what she’d just done to his buddy, and he knew he was fucked. He tried to hold on, but as soon as Katrina crunched his fingers under her feet, he lost his grip and fell. His cries echoed off the walls of the gorge:
“AAAAAaaaaahhhhh . . . !”
The third man trembled with fear as Katrina stood above him. He looked up at her, standing there in her black ass-floss bikini, and he immediately had a mixed reaction of mortal fear and sexual arousal. Her body was beautiful, and her face was intoxicating. She was a nubile goddess, the likes of which he had never seen. This was the closest he would get to it; he was going to die a virgin, killed by the kind of woman he’d hoped to bed someday.
“You Red Sword guys aren’t as strong as you think you are,” Katrina taunted the man. “Look at you: you can’t even pull yourself up to the bridge? How weak! Your fingers are already giving out. You won’t last another minute.”
The man was shocked to see Katrina reach down into her bikini bottoms to begin fingering her snatch.
“Oh, that’s right! I’m turned on! I’m turned on watching you dangle helplessly in the breeze, knowing that at any moment your muscles are going to fail and you’ll plunge hundreds of feet to your death. Oh, yeah! You’re barely hanging on! You’re clinging on for dear life, aren’t you, little boy? Yes, you know you’re gonna fall, and I’m not gonna do anything to save you! I’m just gonna stand here and watch you die while I jerk myself! Oh, oh! Is it turning you on, too?”
There was a considerable bulge in the man’s red swim trunks.
Katrina slid her fingers up and down with increasing rapidity. “Oh, you’re almost finished! You can’t hang on! You’re slipping . . . slipping . . . Oh!”
At that instant the man let go. He cupped both hands over his package as he tumbled downward, thrusting his hands madly in an attempt to ejaculate in the seconds before impact.
“AAAAAaaaaaiiiiieeeee . . . !!”
Katrina leaned over the edge to look down at him, still rubbing her insatiable cunt. “Oh, that guy bit the dust with his gun still loaded for sure!”
Katrina moved over the fourth and final man. He looked like he was having trouble holding on. He was on the verge of letting go. Katrina sat down on the edge of the bridge so that her legs dangled on either side of him. When the man could hold on no longer, his fingers slipped off the bridge. He was in freefall for no more than a few microseconds when Katrina’s feet clamped down on his neck and stopped him. He hung there in midair, surprised by the sudden act of mercy shown by Katrina.
“I couldn’t let you fall just yet,” said Katrina. “I haven’t reached orgasm!”
Katrina held the man tightly in place with the soles of her feet squeezing his neck. He had trouble breathing that way, but the alternative was a hundred-foot drop into the abyss. Katrina continued to pleasure herself, reaching down and tugging back on her pussy lips, teasing her hood ever so gently. She was dripping wet with excitement.
“Oh, man, you’ve gotta hold on just a bit longer down there while I jack off,” said Katrina. “Why don’t you jack off, too?”
And so the man did. He didn’t know why he did it, dangling like that over a high river gorge wedged between an assassin chick’s feet, but he did it anyway. He reached down and slipped his skimpy red briefs off his legs until they floated to the ground far below. He started honking the horn. He was prodded onward by the sight of Katrina sitting on the bridge just above him, her hand plunging into her black bikini bottoms with reckless abandon.
Katrina scooted her butt to the edge of the bridge so that one of the vertical support ropes was lodged in her crotch. She rutted herself up and down on the vertical rope, clutching her breast to it, drawing herself nearer and nearer to orgasm. The man trapped in her feet was getting close as well.
“Oh, we’re both getting there! Simultaneous orgasms blow my mind!” Katrina panted as she cried out, her voice bouncing off the canyon walls. “Oh, yeah! I want to see you shoot the rocket right when I get there! I’m almost there! So are you! YES!”
The now-naked, dangling, masturbating man was jerking mightily as he began to squirt his spunk into thin air. A happy smile that crossed his face quickly turned to an expression of horror as Katrina suddenly pulled her feet away and let the man drop.
“YYYYYAAAAAaaaaahhhhh . . . .!”
The man held his still-pumping cock as he plummeted toward earth. Looking back up at Katrina, he could see her legs spread wide apart as she slid her sopping-wet cunt against the rope support. He dejectedly realized that she was having an incredible orgasm at his expense; that she had used him for her selfish purposes and, having reached her mountaintop, had thrown him away like worthless trash. He would be dead in seconds, but she would survive to torment and kill more men. Drops of cum raced him down to the bottom.
He was dashed against the rocks just like the other seven men before him. The only difference was he had some sticky residue on his now-fading erection.
Watching the last man fall to his death had sent Katrina into unheard-of ecstasy. She humped that rope with her legs kicking out wide, enjoying the scratchy feel of each thrust. She threw her head back and screamed to the heavens. Birds in the nearby forest took flight.
As the muscle contractions subsided within, Katrina regained her breath. She was dripping with sweat, but her body felt warm and relaxed now.
“That’s just what I needed to start out this mission,” said Katrina as she stood up and continued down the bridge to the other side of the river.
Several miles further down the trail, Katrina thought she was getting very close to the Red Sword base. She sensed the presence of men in the forest around her, so she crept stealthily through the growth. When she reached a shady cluster of trees, she saw three men dozing on the ground.
“Typical Red Sword patrol – spends more time asleep than awake,” said Katrina.
Like a tigress moving in for the kill, Katrina silently crawled on her hands and knees toward the man nearest to her, who was snoring as he lay on his back. She got within a few feet of him, and then pounced with feline speed.
Katrina’s chest landed on the man’s face. He awoke with a start to find his nose and mouth buried in a pair of delectable tits. He made some muted cries for help, but Katrina looked over at his two colleagues and neither one was stirring. They didn’t hear a thing.
The young patrol guard was dismayed by his inability to take a breath. Katrina straddled him like a succubus, a nightmare made real. He had been fast asleep and now he was struggling for survival. No air got in and no sound escaped as Katrina tit-smothered the poor bastard. He couldn’t even move his limbs, her hold was so forceful. About the only part of his body that seemed to move was his pecker, which was inexplicably rising in his swimsuit. He didn’t want it to – it seemed so inappropriate when staring death in the eye – but he couldn’t help it. The assassin girl just smelled, tasted, and felt so good on top of him with her breasts smashed against his face, he didn’t have any choice but to raise the flagpole.
Katrina felt the man try to breathe, but he was having serious problems now. His body shivered. He was passing out, slipping into death. She held him tighter, pressing him flush to her cleavage. It was about all he could take. At that instant, she felt his hips lift slightly, then collapse. He went slack; he had finally asphyxiated.
Katrina stood back. The dead man lay there with a spreading stain in his shorts. He came and went.
The other two men were still fast asleep. Katrina stepped over to the next young stud, who was snoozing on his tummy. She slid in from behind, simultaneously clamping one hand over his mouth and the other in his groin.
The man’s yell was muffled by Katrina’s hand. He felt her other hand clutching his balls from behind. His arms and legs shuffled in the dead leaves and dirt as he tried to get away. Katrina kept him in place as she lay on his back and grabbed his nuts. She scrunched them in her fingers and twisted them around, causing the guy to pound the dirt out of sheer agony. Against all conventional wisdom, her clutch somehow gave the man a rigid erection.
Using her special, lethal touch, Katrina applied a parting ‘kerrr-rrrrunch’ to the stud boy’s dangling seed packs. Straight away he filled his swim trunks with cock custard. His death throes would have been wild and uncontrolled if Katrina hadn’t kept him down. As it was, his thrashing made the third guy start to stir from sleep.
Katrina quickly jumped ten feet into the air and clung to a tree branch. The ball-busted dude rolled onto his back and twitched a few more times before he finally kicked, his red swimsuit displaying a large, dark spot.
The third man in the patrol woke up and blinked his eyes. He stood up and looked at the other two men. They were sprawled out on their backs, dead, their shorts splashed with wet slizz.
“What the fuck?”
The third patrol guard didn’t have time to figure out the situation, because Katrina jumped from the tree branch and landed right in front of him. She gave him a split second to comprehend the fact that a very attractive, eighteen-year-old blonde chick in a black g-string bikini was standing before him . . . then she wasted him.
Katrina delivered a withering punch to the man’s well-defined six-pack. The blow made a loud ‘smack’ and caused him to stumble backwards. He grabbed his gut and doubled up, looking like he was about to toss his cookies. Instead, blood trickled out the sides of his mouth. He toppled onto his back and his legs kicked into the air, sending his rubber flip-flops flying off his feet. They fell back down onto his dead body.
Katrina rifled through one of the patrol guard’s backpacks. Inside she found a map of the Red Sword base. It was written in code, but she could tell from the drawings that she was close to an outlying facility that was several kilometers from the main barracks.
“I wonder what this outlying facility is, and why it’s so far from the rest of the base,” wondered Katrina as she folded up the map and placed it in her own backpack.
Deciding to check it out first, Katrina headed down the trail that led to the outlying buildings. She was careful not to tip off her whereabouts to any more guard patrols. Slipping easily through the facility’s defenses, Katrina eventually crested a small hill that overlooked the buildings.
One of the buildings looked like a large, steel tank. It was more than fifteen meters tall and easily as wide. Attached to it was a smaller, cylindrical structure with a reinforced steel door on one end. A few other buildings were either attached to it or located nearby. Katrina immediately figured out what it was.
“This must be where they test their poison gas. That’s why it’s so far away from the rest of the base.”
As Katrina watched and waited, a team of a dozen red swimsuit-clad men drove up to the facility in a truck. They hopped off the truck and marched into one of the nearby buildings. Once they were all inside, Katrina ran down the hill and hid next to the building they entered.
Peeking through a gap in the building’s wooden slats, Katrina could see something like a locker room. The dozen Red Sword men were changing out of their red Speedos and into what looked like black wetsuits. Although they looked just as slick and rubbery as a wetsuit, these suits were clearly built for a different purpose. They had tight-fitting gloves and boots, and the men wore helmets that attached right to the necks of their suits. The helmets looked a bit like motorcycle helmets, but they had two hoses that came out the sides that bent over the shoulders and into compressed air tanks. Katrina listened to the men chatter.
“Another day, another friggin’ test.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why they keep wanting us to test these suits; they already know that they work really well.”
“I wish we would stop the tests. It freaks me out to keep going inside that gas chamber.”
Katrina got a wicked idea . . .
The men soon started filing out of the locker room. Katrina waited behind a corner. One of the men who emerged from the room looked about Katrina’s height and build. As he strode outside in his protective suit, Katrina quietly grabbed him from behind and pulled him around the corner.
“Whaaa – ?”
Before the man knew what hit him, Katrina kneed him in the crotch with her fatal power. The man slumped against the wall of the building and slid down onto his butt, killed instantly by Katrina’s whack to his balls.
Katrina hastily unzipped the dead man’s suit and removed all his gear. She slipped off her shoes and her bikini and stepped into the form-fitting suit. The black rubber suit fit like a glove.
“Thank God there was a shorter guy with them,” said Katrina.
Next Katrina attached the gloves and boots securely, then put the yellow air tank on her back. She put on the helmet and attached the air hoses. Finally, she flipped down the tinted visor of her helmet so that the others wouldn’t see her face.
Acting as if nothing had happened, Katrina joined the rest of the Red Sword guys. They filed into the small, cylindrical chamber that was attached to the larger tank. Apparently this cylinder was an airlock or decontamination chamber. The doors were thick steel and the ceiling had water sprinklers overhead. The eleven men and (now) one woman waited inside the antechamber.
“Okay, the tank is filled with gas,” said the squad leader. “Make a final check of your hoses and let’s go in.”
He opened the main door and stepped inside the tank. Katrina followed the others inside. The large, round chamber was dimly lit by a few fluorescent lights. The air was thick with hazy gas. The men gathered around in the center of the chamber and just stood there. Katrina hovered around them.
“Okay, today’s test is ten minutes,” said the leader. “I’m setting my watch . . . now.”
They stood there quietly at first. Then they started chatting with each other. As the men gossiped idly, Katrina walked around them. She carried a small razor blade in her hand. Surreptitiously standing behind one man, she quickly made a tiny slit in one of his air hoses, then walked innocently away.
The man with the incision in his air hose started spluttering. He coughed and grabbed his throat.
“My suit! My suit is leaking!”
He started to head for the door, but he fell to his knees. He clutched both hands to his throat and wobbled. The others gathered over him as he fell, twitching on his side.
“What the hell happened to him?”
“We need to get him outta here!”
“Fuck him, let’s get ourselves outta here!”
“Hold on, hold on, everybody!” said the leader. “Let’s not panic! We’ve still got nine more minutes to go!”
The choking man was on the ground, convulsing and flailing his arms and legs. It was too late to save him, and the other men knew it. They just hovered over him, morbidly watching him suffer and die.
As the men stood over the victim, Katrina snuck up behind them and slit the hoses of two more men. They suddenly started gagging and wheezing as they ran for the door.
“Let us out of here! Let us out!” cried the first man.
“Sarge, you’ve got the key! Let us out!” pleaded the second.
“Okay, okay,” said their leader as he fumbled with the keys. “Just a second.”
The leader found the key as the two men with torn hoses frantically scratched at the door. They begged him to hurry as he slid the key into the lock. Even if they were able to get into the decontamination chamber right away, they would have to wait before all the poison gas dissipated. They didn’t have that long. Death was imminent. They slid down the side of the tank, their bodies shakin’ and groovin’ as they succumbed to the deadly gas. The team leader opened the heavy door too late: the two men were dead but still twitching on the floor.
“Hurry! Let us out of here!” the other men cried as they piled up at the door.
The men shoved and pushed as they tried to escape the gas chamber, lest their suits “malfunction,” too. Meanwhile, Katrina calmly brought up the rear. Just for kicks, she slit the hoses on the two men standing in front of her. They started gasping and choking.
“Help! Save us!” the two men cried hoarsely as they clutched their burning throats and fell to the floor.
The other men looked over their shoulders at these last two victims, still stuck in the tank behind them. There wasn’t much of an effort to rescue them.
“They’re screwed! Get me outta here!”
“Yeah, forget them! Let’s move!”
The two men sank to the floor where they began twisting and jerking. Katrina stepped over the writhing men.
“Some friends you’ve got there,” said Katrina. “Really cared about your fate. Oh, well.”
The two men stopped twitching and faded into death as Katrina exited the main tank and stepped into the decontamination chamber.
The leader closed and locked the tank door, leaving behind the five men who’d just been gassed to death. Katrina sat down on a bench with the six survivors. The water sprinklers overhead came on, spraying a heavy stream over them. Electric fans began whirring. Everyone sulked and stared silently at each other.
“Those suits never malfunctioned before,” said the leader. “I don’t know what happened this time.”
One man lifted up his tinted helmet visor and squinted at Katrina. She felt a nervous impulse to run.
“Hey, Rico,” said the man to Katrina, whose face was still obscured by the tinted visor, “I didn’t know you had tits!”
Another man stared at the smallest member of the team. “That ain’t Rico! That’s a GIRL!”
“Uh-oh,” gulped Katrina.
Katrina leapt to her feet and kicked down the heavy door leading to the outside. She flew out of the chamber as six men in rubber suits gave chase. Katrina scrambled toward the door of a building. She ran inside and locked it shut behind her. She was in some kind of equipment room with many compressors, generators, pipes, and electrical panels.
The six men outside were banging on the door, trying to knock it open. Katrina climbed the wall above the doorway and wrenched loose a large, metal pipe. Water started pouring down to the floor right as the men busted through. The falling water confused them just long enough for Katrina to drop the length of pipe on their heads. She threw it down with such force that it practically broke their helmets. The six men fell together, all of them knocked out cold.
Katrina descended the wall and stood looking at the six unconscious men. They were nice, virile specimens, their biceps and pectoral muscles bulging in their tight, black suits. She took off their helmets to admire them some more. All of them had young, fresh faces – these terrorist bad boys looked almost angelic as they slumbered.
“They’re so cute, I just HAVE to do something naughty to them!”
Katrina looked around and found some rope. She bound all six of the men, tying their hands behind their backs and knotting their ankles together. Next she propped them standing up against the wall in a row, tying them in place so that they remained upright. The men’s heads sagged forward against their chests.
Katrina formulated a devious plan. She noticed long electrical conduits running the length of the equipment room. Finding the main circuit breaker, she cut the power. Quickly severing one of the electrical conduits, she took a long length of thick, copper wire and strung it out. She spliced it to some wires and threw a switch to test it; the bare copper wire sparked with electricity.
Katrina turned off the power and picked up the long copper cable. She drew it in front of the six unconscious men, placing it just below hip level so that it was only an inch or two away from their crotches. Katrina secured the cable in place with several clamps.
“There,” said Katrina when she had finished. “Now I just have to wait for them to wake up.”
Slowly but surely, the six men came to. They were groggy and dizzy, but they quickly realized that their hands and feet were tied.
“Hey!” one of the men said, “What the hell’s going on?”
Katrina stood in front of the captive men, smiling at them.
“Good morning, boys,” said Katrina with a trace of sex kitten in her voice. “Hope you had a good rest, ‘cuz I’ve got a surprise for you!”
The six men were all awake now and staring at Katrina. She had taken her helmet off so that her long, blonde hair flowed freely over her shoulders. She was still wearing her black rubber suit, which clung sleekly to her curves.
The men woke up with hard-ons, anyway, so the sight of gorgeous Katrina in her rubber suit excited them even more. The men – who were also still in their rubber suits – began to show bulges in their groins.
Katrina laughed at the stiffening men.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” said Katrina as she flipped a switch. “Look down in front of your wet willies. That’s an electrical wire with hundreds of amps running through it. Might I remind you that your rubber suits are still soaked with water, so if your peckers point outward too much, you might be in for a little shock.”
Panic-stricken, the men all looked down at their growing stingers. They tried to pull their hips back, but Katrina had the men tied so tightly in place that they couldn’t move. One man with a particularly long prick couldn’t keep his back; the little pyramid of rubber in his crotch touched the wire.
Sparks flew as the current zapped his cock. His whole body vibrated and oscillated as the lethal electricity coursed through his muscles. The other men looked at him in horror as he was painfully electrocuted through his prick. Flames, smoke, and the acrid smell of burnt rubber filled the room. The circuit broke when the man’s hips sank slightly; his head fell forward against his chest. He was history.
“You just killed Seth!” one man shouted at Katrina.
“No, I didn’t kill him,” answered Katrina haughtily, “HE killed HIMSELF! It was his own fault; no one told him he had to have a boner. He’d still be alive if he weren’t so horny.”
“That’s impossible!” said another man. “We never see women like you! Do you know how many women there are out here in the woods with us? Zero! Zilch! How do you expect us not to be horny?”
“Too bad for you. Make your choice.”
Katrina stepped closer to the five remaining men. With a twisted smirk on her face, she slowly began to unzip the front of her rubber suit. The men panted breathlessly as the inner curves of her beautiful tits began to spill out. It was enough to skyrocket their stiffies again.
“No, men!” cried their leader. “Don’t look at her! Resist the temptation!”
“I . . . I . . . I can’t resist!” whimpered one man. “Can’t . . . hold . . . back!”
The man’s one-eyed weasel stretched out inside the rubber confines of his suit. It flopped straight out until it grew a few millimeters more, and then . . .
Like the man before him, this guy sucked up electrons through his dick. He bounced around as much as his restraints would allow, his rubber suit searing with fire. His head snapped back as he screamed murderously. He smoked and sizzled until he could bear no more. His dick drooped and the circuit broke, but not before it had zapped him into oblivion.
“William’s dead! She just fried him to death!”
“When are you dumbshits gonna learn?” said Katrina testily. “I didn’t do anything! All I did was unzip my suit . . .”
At that, Katrina continued tugging down her zipper, exposing her smooth, tanned skin. She pulled the zipper all the way down, eventually showing off her flat abs and her little bellybutton. At the sight of it, one of the men moaned desperately.
“Ooooh, not the bellybutton!” he cried. “Anything but her bellybutton, please!”
“Look away, Rusty!” their leader shouted. “Fight it! Close your eyes!”
“I can’t, I can’t!” said Rusty, beside himself. “I love it! Oh, what a great belly!”
Katrina strutted forward so that she stood just a few feet from Rusty.
“You like this, Rusty?” said Katrina as she ran her fingers in circles around her navel, occasionally plunging a fingertip inside the little dent. “If you like it, why don’t you show your appreciation and get it up!”
Rusty couldn’t avert his gaze despite his friends’ shouts. He looked down at Katrina’s bellybutton, sweat dripping from his brow. He looked like he wanted to bend down and kiss it, but the ropes kept him stock straight. He moaned again as he watched Katrina tease her navel and lick her lips suggestively. She threw her hips forward slightly and did a softly undulating belly dance for him.
Rusty looked down and saw his cock swelling. It was poking forward through his rubber suit, dangerously close to the copper wire.
“I think I can make it,” said Rusty as he eyed his throbbing erection. “I think I can cum in my suit without touching the wire!”
“Don’t do it, Rusty! It’ll kill you!”
Rusty salivated at Katrina’s sexy belly dance. His navel fetish was driving him off the cliff. His pelvis jerked upwards a tad; he was starting to spew his white honey.
“Yeah, yeah!” cried Rusty. “Oh! I’m doing it! I’m doing it! I’m . . .”
Rusty got fried. The electricity shot through his rubber suit, came in contact with his sticky spunk, and forked like lightning through every cell in his body. He did his own belly dance as he got electrocuted.
“Ha! Gotcha!” said Katrina triumphantly as she watched Rusty’s death spasms.
Katrina stood before the last three men, who all had their eyes closed. She slowly began to slide the rubber suit down her hips. As she did, it made some squeaking sounds that caught the attention of one of the men. He opened an eye and caught sight of Katrina as she stepped out of her rubber suit, standing in naked glory.
The sight of Katrina’s dark patch of pubic hair mesmerized the man. He was a young guy, maybe no more than eighteen years old himself, and still a virgin. He had never seen a real woman’s pussy before. He opened his eyes and stared in awe at the nude woman.
“Hey, Michael,” said the young stud to the similarly-aged hunkster next to him, “check her out – she’s naked!”
The second guy hesitated and then opened his eyes, too. Now both of them were staring with their mouths agape.
“Do you boys like what you see?” said Katrina. “Do you have a sudden urge to . . . mount me?”
Katrina threw her fingers to her pussy lips and pulled them back, revealing the fleshy, pink cave there. Her fuzz was speckled with her dew. The two boys felt their cocks lurch upward and outward, straining to reach that glorious snatch before them.
“So close, and yet so far!” Katrina teased them, running her fingers past her mound.
The boys were fighting their lust, trying to contain a desire so deadly it could kill them at any moment. Their survival instinct competed head-to-head with their mating instinct. Their rubber suits stretched and bulged as their peckers ached to break free.
“Don’t look at her, boys!” said their leader. “She’s trying to trick you! Don’t fall for it!”
“Aw, come on!” said Katrina. “Let go! Listen to the siren song and give in to your desire!”
Katrina toyed with her sex, bringing herself some measure of gratification. She moaned and purred as the two young males looked longingly at her. Their joysticks were ready to burst. They turned and looked at each other.
“We won’t touch the wire, will we?”
“Nah, we can’t be that big! We’ll just miss it!”
“That’s it, boys,” said Katrina coyly, “Just shoot your wads and it’ll be all over!”
The first young man panted madly. “I think . . . I think . . . I think I’m gonna let it fly!”
“Me, too!” cried the second man. “I’m going . . . I’m going . . . I’m . . .”
The two young stallions let the tips of their cocks brush against the wire at the same time, right as they began to spill. Katrina hollered with excitement as she ran her knuckles along the folds of her wet cunt. She watched through barely-opened eyes as the two studs died violently in their rubber suits, strapped against the wall. When they finished getting electricity-fucked, they fell motionless and dead in their harnesses. Katrina had a thermonuclear orgasm as she saw the two, snuffed hunks smoldering there.
“OH!” yelled Katrina. “They jacked at the same time! How pretty!”
Katrina rolled around naked on the floor for a few minutes as she let her orgasm run its course. The last man still alive was the squad leader, and he had his eyes shut tight.
“Oh, come on, now,” said Katrina. “Why fight it? If I wanted to kill you the easy way, I could’ve just shot you. Play along with me and have a nice sex-death!”
“No,” the man said defiantly.
“Please reconsider,” said Katrina as she walked up to him. “It’s definitely more fun for me and for you!”
“Fine. Have it your way.”
Katrina left the room. The man wondered where she had gone. A minute later she returned, hauling her huge backpack. Katrina unzipped the bag and removed an MP5 submachine gun. She threw in a cartridge and loaded the gun. She then took it in her hands and, standing naked in front of him at point blank range, aimed it at him from her hip.
Somehow, the sight of that nasty, black submachine gun pointed at his chest changed the man’s mind.
“Okay, okay!” he said. “Don’t shoot me! I’ll let you play with me!”
Katrina lowered the machine gun and smiled.
“That’s much better,” said Katrina. “So tell me: what’s your fancy? Tits? Bellybuttons? Ass? What? Come on, don’t be shy! All men have some kind of fetish!”
“Shoes,” said the man haltingly. “I like high heels. You don’t have any high heels in that backpack, do you?”
Katrina went through her pack. “As a matter of fact, I do. I still have these thigh-high boots I used in Bangkok when I was posing as a whore.”
Just the sound of the word ‘boots’ made the man’s dong jump. Katrina noticed it.
“Ah, I see you like these!” said Katrina as she took out the shiny, patent-leather boots and sat on the floor to put them on. “Watch me, then, as I slip them on!”
With a wily smile, Katrina stuck one leg into the air and slipped her foot into the shoe part of the boot. She let her leg hang there, the long, unzipped leather shaft of the boot flapping around her bare leg. With a deliberate, tantalizing motion, Katrina began to zip the boot, dragging the zipper from her instep, then over her ankle, up her calf, and around the knee, until it was fully zipped. She flexed her calf muscles, and the snug leather made faint creaking sounds as it shimmered in the light.
The man swallowed hard. He looked down and saw his member pressing outward against his rubber suit. He didn’t think he could handle any more of Katrina’s show.
Katrina then spun around on her rear and repeated the same, tantalizing show with the other boot, slowly zipping it up and driving the man wild. Now both of Katrina’s legs were sheathed in shiny, black leather. She traipsed around, the five-inch stiletto heels of her boots clacking against the floor.
“How do I look?” said Katrina as she showed off the only article of clothing she wore. “Do I have nice legs? Or is it hard to tell with all that tight leather surrounding them?”
The man had an anxious look on his face as Katrina pranced up to him. He could feel the head of his engorged cock straining against the fly of his rubber suit. He desperately wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde vixen in the boots.
Katrina rubbed her foot against the man’s calf, playing footsie through the rubber leg.
“You’re the last man standing,” said Katrina softly. “Congratulations on resisting my charms . . . so far!”
Using her amazing dexterity, Katrina lifted her leg over the electrical wire and began to rub the shaft of her boot against the man’s crotch. He began to sweat profusely and whimper.
“Oh, lord. Oh, no. Oh, no.”
“They’re just boots,” cooed Katrina as she continued to stroke him. “What’s the matter?”
The man’s dick reached the breaking point. Katrina felt it push harder against her boot, so she quickly pulled her foot away to clear a path for the man’s snake. It leapt forward, forming a little tent out of the rubber suit. The man moaned and cried as the inevitable unfolded before his eyes. His cock had a life of its own now; no matter how badly he wanted to live, it was going to drag him down and destroy him. His dick would be his downfall. It inched closer . . . and closer . . . The man accidentally spied Katrina’s boots one last time . . . That’s all it took . . . He felt the warm cum frothing and pumping . . . Then . . .
With a quaking yell, the man’s cock bumped the wire and filled him with current. He jerked and jiggled as much as the ropes holding him would allow. Sparks shot out of his body and smoke billowed in the air as the brutal frying continued. It seemed to last forever; he kept jerking and twitching because his sticky pecker was still in contact with the wire. The zapping and buzzing sounds quickly stopped when he fell flaccid. The man was withered and dead as he stood tied to the wall.
Katrina cut the circuit breaker. She looked at the wall: six dead men, all violently electrocuted, were tied up in a row. Although they were still strapped down, they hung limply in their rubber suits.
The thigh-high boots on Katrina’s feet clicked against the hard floor; it was the only sound in the room as she surveyed the carnage she’d inflicted. She faced the line of dead hunks and made a speech.
“Sex is every man’s Achilles heel,” said Katrina imperiously. “As long as you boys never learn that lesson, we girls are always going to have a secret weapon against you. Goodbye, now! I’ve got more of your dumb friends to whack.”
Katrina dressed again in her black thong bikini, tied the laces on her running shoes, and was off to the main section of the Red Sword base.
Her superior sensory perception detected something ahead just off the trail. She crept closer and peered through the bushes. Once again, another patrol of Red Sword guards was sound asleep under some trees.
“They make it so easy for me,” said Katrina. “Hmm, I wonder what game I should play with these guys?”
There were five men lounging in the dirt, clad only in their red swimsuits. Katrina tiptoed around them with a small cloth soaked in a sleeping agent. She held the cloth under their noses, just to give herself some insurance that they wouldn’t wake up prematurely.
Now that the five guards were deep asleep, Katrina looked around and found a long length of rope coiled nearby. She cut off some smaller sections and used them to bind the men’s wrists and ankles. Next she cut off five longer lengths and formed a noose in one end. She threw a noose around each man’s neck and then tossed the other end of the rope over a sturdy tree branch.
The sleeping agent wore off an hour later, and the five men awoke. They couldn’t move their hands or feet, and they were surprised to find rope encircling their necks.
“What’s happening?” one of the men said.
They saw Katrina standing there in her bikini, looking satisfied with her prep work.
“Now that nap time is over,” said Katrina, “it’s time to play a game. Do you boys know how to play ‘Simon Says?’”
The men nodded feebly, not sure if they should try to remove the nooses.
“Good,” said Katrina perkily. “We’re going to play ‘Simon Says,’ but I’m going to call it ‘Simone Says,’ because it suits my gender a little better, okay? And don’t even think of running away or not playing, ‘cuz I’ll mow you down with my machine gun!”
The stupefied men just stared at her as she tapped the MP5 slung over her shoulder.
“Let’s begin,” said Katrina. “Simone Says touch your toes.”
The men hesitated but finally bent down to touch their toes.
“Don’t look at your neighbors!” scolded Katrina. “Simone Says touch your chin. Now touch your nose.”
One of the men placed his bound hands on his nose, but the others stood still. He looked at Katrina expectantly.
“I didn’t say ‘Simone Says!’” said Katrina reproachfully. “You’re out!”
With that, Katrina hoisted the rope connected to the loser. His body jerked off the ground. Katrina staked the rope in place on her end and let the man hang by the neck. He twisted and twirled in his noose, his neck crushed by his own weight. There were some slight gasping sounds coming from him, but he was losing it. His body swayed in the breeze as he strangled and died.
“Make sure I say ‘Simone Says’ before you do anything,” said Katrina in her best camp counselor voice. “Simone Says touch your right knee.”
One man, apparently confusing left and right, touched his left knee. Katrina quickly strung him up. As he kicked and bucked on the rope, Katrina put her hands on her hips and smiled at him.
“A nice terrorist boy your age should know the difference between left and right.”
Katrina continued the game while the second loser hanged. Now only three men were left in the game. She increased the tempo of her instructions.
“Simone Says blink your eyes three times. Simone Says blink your eyes four times. Blink your eyes once.”
The idiot in the middle blinked once. He promptly felt his feet leave the ground as Katrina lynched his sorry ass. Dangling and wheezing, he turned lots of colors as he faded. It wasn’t long before he snuffed out, but before he died, he managed to cream his swimsuit. Katrina scowled at him.
“I didn’t say, ‘Simone Says jink your shorts!’” said Katrina in mock indignation. “And I’ve already killed you, so I don’t know how I can punish you! Let’s just keep playing, shall we?”
“Simone Says bark like a dog.”
“Woof! Woof! Woof!” The two remaining men barked in unison.
“Simone Says moo like a cow.”
“Mooooooo . . .”
“Meow like a cat.”
There was a lone ‘meow’ from one man as the other kept his lips sealed. The one who’d muttered the ‘meow’ looked around, panic-stricken. He realized he’d fucked up and was going to pay for it.
“Tough luck, kitty cat,” said Katrina, “but it looks like your nine lives are up!”
With a swish of the rope, Katrina yanked the unlucky man off his feet and hanged him high. He spun around, choked, and twitched pitifully. Within moments he hosed his Speedos and was just another dead yokel.
“You’re the last man standing,” said Katrina, “but that doesn’t mean you automatically win. You have to do a few more tests before you win.”
Katrina called out various commands, occasionally slipping in one that wasn’t preceded by ‘Simone Says.’ The man didn’t fall for any of them.
“Hmm, you’re a tough nut to crack,” said Katrina. “I didn’t think any of you Red Sword boys were this smart. What can I do now?”
An idea hit Katrina; her face lit up.
“Aha!” said Katrina as she faced the last man. “Simone Says touch your pussy.”
The man started to reach toward his crotch, but stopped halfway. He looked up at Katrina, angry and puzzled.
“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” he said.
“That’s your problem, not mine,” said Katrina as she gripped his rope. “Anyway, you lose. I win. Bye!”
The last guard became airborne and joined his pals swinging from the tree. He suffered miserably, kicking around for a few minutes before he finally decided to give in to his suppressed desire for the pretty hangwoman who’d just done him in. He thrust out his hips and let his bald buddy shoot the juice. Finished with his final act, he shucked his soul. The five, young men dangled from the tree in a slow, twisting rotation. Katrina sighed.
“All my playmates end up dead. Why is that?”
Katrina picked up her backpack and continued onward. She was only a few hundred yards from the main fence of the base. Inside there had to be dozens of Red Sword thugs just waiting to get offed by a hot babe . . .
Katrina discovered the main fence of the Red Sword base. It was a chain link fence that didn’t appear to have any electronic warning systems or other alarms. She easily pried open a large hole in the fence. As she was about to step through, she heard someone approaching and was forced to pull back into the bushes.
Two guards shuffled into view. When they were in earshot, Katrina called to them from her hiding place.
“Psst! Over here!” said Katrina in a small voice.
The two guards jumped back, startled. They held their guns at the ready, looking around for trouble.
“I’m over here,” whispered Katrina. “On the other side of the fence!”
The men spotted the hole in the fence and stepped closer to inspect it. No one was in sight.
“Who’s there?” one of them called out.
“I’m . . . um . . .” said Katrina with hesitation, “I’m lying in the grass right there in front of you. Right through that hole in the fence. Can you see me?”
The men looked at the tall grass just beyond the gap in the fence.
“I don’t see nothing.”
“Look closer,” said Katrina. “Get down on your hands and knees and look really closely at the grass.”
The two morons did as she told them. They got on their hands and knees and scanned the grass for the source of the voice.
“Move forward a little,” Katrina told them. “That’s it; just a little more. There!”
The two guards were now sticking their heads through the gap in the fence, wondering who could possibly be hiding there. They were about to say something else, but Katrina jumped from the bushes, took the aluminum fence in her hands, and quickly bent the wires and closed the gap on the men’s necks. They were trapped now in the fence.
“Suckers,” said Katrina to the ensnared duo.
The two guards made grotesque gurgling sounds; their throats were constricted in the fence. They had no idea who had attacked them, because they could only see Katrina from the calves down. Judging by her shaved legs and charm anklet, they figured it was a girl, but that only made them feel slightly humiliated . . . and horny.
“You cheeseballs are in a tight spot there,” said Katrina. “I’m not gonna let you go, and the breathing is only gonna get more difficult, so I suggest you give in to temptation and enjoy your last moments on Earth. That’s right; let your hands get acquainted with your dicks.”
Unhappily drooling as they asphyxiated, the two men decided that the girl was right: why bother being shy if you know you’re checking out? They reached down and slid off their terrorist-issue red Speedos, letting their thick sausages flop in the wind. Their hands ranged back and forth as they worked themselves into a sublime state. Time was of the essence – they could feel their lungs getting heavier and their heads getting lighter.
Katrina simply stood over them and made sure the fence was clamped tightly around their necks. She lifted a foot and placed it one guy’s head, just to make him feel conquered. The men jangled the fence as they converged on orgasm and death.
The guy with Katrina’s foot on his head was the first to go. He spanked his love liquor all over the ground as his face twisted up. He propelled every last drop of it out of his system, and then seemed to wait for something else to happen. Still alive, he seemed to be lingering at the edge. Katrina noticed he wasn’t dead yet, so she spoke up to him.
“There’s no need to hang around once you’ve spilled your jazz,” said Katrina matter-of-factly. “Finish on a high note. Here; let me help you.”
There was a grisly cracking sound as Katrina pushed her foot down on top of the man’s head and broke his neck. His body reared up and then fell still.
The second guard was losing his struggle for life. His tongue hung out of his open mouth and his eyes stared blankly ahead. His whole face was purple; oxygen was no longer inside him. His hand waved more slowly over his prick until it wasn’t moving at all. There was a final, quivering heave to his hips and shoulders, and then he went. He had choked to death between the wires of the fence.
Katrina bent over to see if he had come. His prick was still long, swollen, and purple. Within a few seconds, drops of pearl juice began to spurt out. Even though the guard was way dead, he still managed to dump his load.
“I wonder,” said Katrina, “if he felt even a hint of that before he croaked.”
Buoyed by her success at entering the terrorist base, Katrina skipped along toward her target. She stopped to pick some pretty flowers along the way and array them in her hair. She looked like a nature goddess with the bright blooms tucked in her hair and behind her ear.
Katrina heard voices ahead so she ducked behind a tree trunk. A group of about ten Red Sword goons milled about in a small field. They looked as if they were practicing their hand-to-hand combat, sparring with each other. Katrina dropped her backpack, stepped forward, and showed herself to them.
The men stopped what they were doing and stared at her. Who did this girl in the thong bikini with flowers in her hair think she was?
“Who the hell are you?” one man asked. “And what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to join your organization,” said Katrina with a straight face. “I would just KILL to be a Red Sword soldier!”
“You can’t be one of us!” scoffed one man.
“You’re a GIRL!”
“Girls can do anything boys can do,” said Katrina pertly. “And they usually do it better than boys.”
This brought howls of laughter from the large, cocky men. Despite their derision of Katrina, there was a noticeable change in the shape of their red swim trunks – the bulges of their packages got considerably bigger.
“Get lost, bitch,” said a man, “before we kill you.”
“Is that a threat?” said Katrina with fire in her eyes. “Are you bastards THREATENING me?”
The biggest man, who stood more than six feet, six inches tall, stepped forward. He towered over Katrina, glaring at her, pushing out his chest so that it bumped her.
“Yeah,” said the tall man, “we’re threatening you. What are you gonna do about it?”
Katrina planted a vicious straight-leg kick right in the tall guy’s package.
The man flew backwards several yards, crashing into the rest of the men and knocking them down like dominoes. They picked themselves up off the ground – all of them, that is, except the tall guy. He lay there trembling, his hands cupped over his ruined genitals. The nine other men watched him expire before their eyes; the lethal energy in Katrina’s kick had killed him.
Two more men immediately rushed at Katrina, their fists flying. She ducked their punches and delivered chopping blows to their tight bellies as they flew past her. The belly hits jarred the men and caused them to flip over into the dirt. They rolled around, clutching their guts, moaning despondently.
“Ohhhh, my guts!” cried one of the men. “She busted my guts!”
“Ugh! It hurts like a motherfucker!” cried the other. “How did she do that?”
“Dunno, man,” said the first. “Didn’t see what happened. Just felt the shit get socked outta me.”
“Ohhh,” groaned the second, “I think it’s bad. Real bad. Think she did me in. Not gonna . . . make it . . . ohhh! Tell . . . Tell my girlfriend . . . that I loved her.”
“You dumbass,” grunted the first, “You ain’t got a girlfriend! Unless you mean that hooker you banged last night.”
“Yeah, that one,” said the second. “She was real . . . Ohhh! . . . special. She did this thing with her tongue . . . She . . . Gghhk! Grckkk!”
The second belly-chopped dude started gagging and spitting up blood. He doubled up and shook wildly, causing his now-stiff pecker to pop out of his swimsuit. It waved around and released his fuck-juice. When it was done squirting, the man fell still . . . quiet . . . and dead.
The first belly-chopped man saw his buddy depart and just laughed.
“Dude, you just blasted your spooge in front of everyone,” he said. “What a way to go . . . Ohhh! Wait a minute! Oh, I think I’m . . . I can’t . . . No, this can’t be happening!”
The first man coughed and wheezed. Blood trickled out of his mouth. He rolled onto his back so that he lay there, pecker up. The bald devil slipped out the top of his Speedos and started to blow its load. White stuff formed a puddle in the man’s bellybutton. He grunted low and loud as he came, his breath fading away in a raspy hiss. Once his last breath was expelled, he threw out his arms and kicked the bucket.
The remaining men watched the display with unwavering attention. They couldn’t believe what Katrina had just done to three of their friends.
“Hmm,” said Katrina, “I seem to remember all of you laughing when I said girls can do things better than boys. Who’s laughing now?”
Angered beyond words, three more men charged at Katrina. They were big, young, virile men, and they were ready to level this sadistic woman. The other four chanted and cheered them on.
Katrina jumped and spun at the last possible instant, kicking her leg around in a sweeping arc. The kick landed on the chests of two of the men and glanced off the third. The men were whipsawed around. Two of them fell to the ground while the third ricocheted a distance away. Katrina ran him down. He staggered on his feet as he tried to figure out where Katrina was. She tapped him on the shoulder from behind. He whipped around. Her hand went low, below his waist. He felt sudden, excruciating pain. Pangs of hot fire shot through his body. He looked down; her hand was on his balls, squeezing them. His senses seized up. Light seemed to fade. His arms flapped at his sides, even though he wasn’t making them do it. He felt the ground disappear beneath his feet; he wondered, Am I in the air? An explosion filled him. It felt like his brain was collapsing. There was a distant sensation of sticky dampness below his bellybutton somewhere. Finally, he felt like he was falling . . . and then . . . nothing.
Katrina tossed aside the ball-crushed man and let his corpse land in the bushes. She turned her attention to the other two men she’d kicked and knocked down. They were trying to get back on their feet. Katrina ran up to them. They had just stood up when she jumped at them and kicked out both legs toward their stomachs. The kicks hit their bellies and sent them tumbling backwards.
When the men rolled to a stop, they were prone and dazed. Their bodies shook as they held their hands over their abdomens. Katrina walked up to them and stood over them, looking down. She could see the fear in their eyes; it only made her more eager to waste them.
“Ohhhh,” moaned one man, “No! Please, don’t!”
“You win,” conceded the other man, “Let us live!”
“No way,” said Katrina.
Katrina jumped into the air and pulled up her legs, coiling them back for as much force as possible. When she started to fall back to earth, she thrust her feet downwards. Her feet landed on the men’s bellies so hard, she almost thought they’d pierce right through them.
The two men lurched, kicking their legs into the air as the fatal stomp hit them. When their legs fell back to the ground with a thud, they were finished. Their eyes remained open, a vacant death stare on their faces. The pattern on the soles of Katrina’s running shoes was etched on their obliterated abs. Their swimsuits still bulged with their boners, but there was no satisfaction for them.
Only four men were still standing. They shifted uneasily as they eyed Katrina, unsure if they should risk another attack or just turn and run. Katrina seemed to read their minds when she spoke up to them.
“Don’t bother trying to run,” said Katrina. “I can outrun any of you.”
The four men looked at each other. They wanted to piss themselves, they were so scared. If they ran, she’d catch them. But if they stayed and fought, they faced certain death. There was no way to win. They felt a strange combination of emotions: fear, shame at the prospect of losing a physical battle to a young woman, and arousal. This last emotion made their dicks involuntarily swell in size. They tried to hide their crotches with their hands, not wanting Katrina to see their obvious attraction to her.
“No use being embarrassed,” said Katrina, “I’ve seen it all before. Men always get hard right before I kill ‘em.”
It was a profound dilemma. The men had a sinking feeling that their lives were about to end.
“Dude, we’re totally fucked,” said one of the men.
“I know,” said another. “She’s gonna blow us away.”
“I think ‘blow’ is the right word,” said a third man as he rubbed his thumping cock.
The men all laughed nervously.
“Well, here goes nothing,” said one man as he began to run full speed at Katrina.
The other three hunks followed. Katrina calmly stood her ground.
What happened next transpired so quickly that even Katrina wasn’t sure how she did it. There was a profusion of fists and feet. There was a blur of nearly naked skin. There were screams, yells, and curses. In a matter of seconds, the tumult subsided. Katrina was sitting on her butt. One man was lodged between her thighs, his face stuck against her pussy. A second man was face-planted between her breasts. The third and fourth men were lying facedown, their faces buried in a shallow mud puddle with Katrina’s feet on the backs of their necks, holding them down. All four young hunks were immobilized. All four were sucking on something other than air. All four were on the road to asphyxiation.
“Whoo-hoo!” hollered Katrina. “I kicked your butts! All four of you at once!”
The four men writhed and wriggled in Katrina’s clutches. They wanted to get away. They wanted nothing to do with this deadly blonde in a g-string bikini. Well, maybe they wanted to do ONE thing with her: all of them had raging erections.
Katrina was strong enough to keep them all in place. She did it easily, without breaking a sweat. She waited patiently as the four men gradually showed signs of their impending doom: changing colors and jerking limbs. But the most telling sign of their demise was found between their legs.
All four of the trapped men reached into their swimsuits and pulled out their cocks. They jacked off with lustful fervor, knowing that it was the only thing they could do before they were finished. Katrina smiled as she looked over her victims.
“It’s so nice to see you bitches smack it before you kick!”
The two men under Katrina’s feet got shoved deeper into the mud. The man between her tits got a mouthful of cleavage. And the man sandwiched between her thighs tasted her nectar as his face rode up her love tunnel. Death was creeping up on them; their torment was nearly over. They tried to breathe but simply choked. They wanted to live, but all they could feel was icy death licking at their heels. Their kicking and squirming grew more forceful; they made a last attempt to escape, to survive. Maybe there was a way out?
But when their kicking and squirming did nothing to save them, their energy was spent. Their legs stopped moving so rapidly. Their toes scraped through the dirt. Their hands fell away from their straining erections. Their whole bodies seemed to relax, except for their hips, which kept thrusting.
The two men under Katrina’s feet went first: they humped the mud and sent their discharge into the muck. Katrina felt them fade and die. She lifted her feet from their necks and wrapped her ankles around the guy buried in her snatch.
The cunt-smothered man was next. He throttled his cock against the dirt and greased it with slizz. His body tensed and released. He was gone. When his face fell away from her snatch, Katrina’s pussy sauce dribbled from his mouth.
The last man to die was the one suffocating in Katrina’s breasts. His cum shot out in lazy arcs as he snuffed it in that pair of delicious tits. Katrina parted her boobs and let the man’s face slide down her belly, where it came to rest just below her navel. His face bore an expression of faint bemusement.
The battle was over. Ten Red Sword studs had challenged Katrina to hand-to-hand combat, and she had swiftly rubbed them out. She pushed aside the dead man on her bellybutton and stood up. The clearing was littered with ten, nicely muscled but rapidly cooling male bodies.
“It’s been fun,” said Katrina to the dead men, “but I’ve got a mission to complete. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
Katrina cleaned the mud off her body, retrieved her backpack, and started toward her next encounter.
Katrina checked her map. There were two, different paths she could take to reach the main barracks of the base. She closed her eyes and placed her finger on the map; it landed near the western path. She set out on the narrow, dirt trail, walking downhill.
In the distance, strange sounds reverberated. Katrina stopped to listen. There was a series of high-pitched, twangy sounds and muffled explosions. It sounded like a bizarre orchestration of bizarre music.
“What the heck is that?” Katrina wondered. “I’ve gotta check it out.”
Locating the direction of the odd sounds, Katrina followed a path that branched off from the main trail. The sounds grew louder. Through the trees, bright flashes of light caught her attention. She lay low and crawled through the dense undergrowth to get a better view.
Katrina saw a row of more than a dozen men standing with their backs to her. They were wearing black suits and helmets almost identical to the tight, rubber suits worn by the Red Sword guys in the poison gas chamber. The only difference was that these suits had no air tanks or hoses on them. Also, the men seemed to have some type of breastplate over the fronts of their suits. But what caught Katrina’s attention most of all was not what they were wearing; it was what they were doing.
The men were standing in an open air shooting range, firing at targets. Their guns, however, were most unique: they were laser guns.
“Cool!” said Katrina as she shielded her eyes from the blinding flashes of light emitted from the guns. “It’s like something in ‘Star Wars!’”
(When she was a little girl, Katrina saw ‘Star Wars’ and got a strange thrill watching the Stormtroopers get blown away with laser guns.)
Tyoo! Tyoo! Tyoo! Tyoo!
The men shot the lasers downrange. Bright white, razor-thin beams shot out of the guns. The rays blasted apart various objects many yards away. Old oil barrels, cars, and other debris took a beating as the lasers burned holes through them, mangling them and leaving them in smoldering pieces.
Somebody blew a whistle and the men stopped shooting.
“I’ve gotta try one of those guns!” said Katrina eagerly. “These guys have the best toys!”
Katrina glanced across the line of Red Sword soldiers in their rubber suits. When they turned around, she could see that they wore some kind of breastplate that stretched from their shoulders down to their abdomens.
“It must be some kind of body armor,” said Katrina. “Maybe the guns emit some radiation or something. If I wanna try out one of those guns, I better find a suit I can wear!”
Katrina scanned the men as they took a break from their target practice. There were a couple of men who looked about the right height and build. Fortunately for Katrina, one of them started to move away from the others.
“I’ve gotta take a piss,” the man said as he dismissed himself from the group.
The man headed into the bushes. It was an elaborate process to get his dick out of that suit to urinate: first he had to take off his helmet and gloves; he took off his breastplate and set it down; then he unzipped the suit all the way; next he slipped his arms out and shimmied the tight fabric past his hips so that the suit sagged over his legs. He wore no undergarments, so now he was free to relieve himself.
As the man sent his golden rainbow into the plants, Katrina quietly snuck up behind him. She graciously let him empty his bladder . . . then she struck. Both hands closed over the man’s throat. Katrina lifted him off the ground; his boots swung back and forth in the air. He made gruesome gasping sounds as she choked the life out of him.
“At least I let you finish pissing,” Katrina whispered in his ear.
Some minutes passed. Another whistle sounded; the men were being called back to the firing range – but the man in Katrina’s grip wasn’t going to make it back there. He was blue in the face. His eyes were bloodshot. His lungs were depleted. Katrina continued strangling him until he ceased to move. When he was finally dead, she set him down and immediately stripped him of his rubber suit.
Katrina hastily dressed herself in the suit. She zipped it up and found that it fit quite nicely. She put on the helmet, gloves and breastplate next. As she adjusted the chest protector, she realized what advantage it afforded her.
“With this thing covering up my boobs,” said Katrina, “they’ll never be able to tell that I’m a woman. Plus, the tinted helmet visor will be covering my face. They’ll never know!”
Katrina heard the men start shooting the lasers again. She quickly picked up the dead man’s laser gun. It was about the same size and weight as her MP5 submachine gun, but it had some unique controls and features on it. There was a knob that controlled the power setting; it was scaled from 1 to 10, with a red line at the 7 mark. This particular gun was set at 9. Katrina also noticed a fire mode selector, which was currently set to ‘single shot,’ but could also be switched to ‘full auto.’
When Katrina had finished studying the gun, she ambled toward the shooting range and took her place at the end of the line. The man next to her paused and turned.
“About time, Martin,” the man said to Katrina, “That was the longest piss I’ve ever seen. What the hell have you been drinkin’?”
Katrina just shrugged her shoulders at him. She faced the targets downrange and took aim. As she pulled the trigger on the laser gun, she discovered a cool feature of the weapon: when the trigger was depressed halfway, a tiny range-finding laser marked the target. When she completely depressed the trigger, the gun shot a spike of light that hit the target almost exactly where she aimed it. There was no recoil at all. The laser blast cast a shower of shrapnel in several directions as it blew up the metal object.
‘This is so cool!’ Katrina thought.
Katrina practiced for a while alongside the Red Sword men, who were completely unaware of her presence. She grew confident in her ability to use the laser gun and thought it would make a nice addition to her arsenal.
As Katrina continued to shoot, out of the corner of her eye she noticed the man next to her staring. He had stopped shooting and was looking at Katrina’s feet.
“Hey, Martin,” said the man, “what happened to your boots?”
Katrina looked down and muttered, “Oh, shit.”
In her haste to get dressed in the protective suit, Katrina had forgotten to put on the knee-high rubber boots that came with it. Instead, she had mistakenly slipped on her sneakers. Fashionable running shoes were not standard issue among Red Sword terrorists - she was caught!
Katrina slowly turned and faced the man next to her. Like most Red Sword guys, he wasn’t very bright, but it was slowly dawning on him that this wasn’t Martin standing next to him. He faltered as he considered pointing his gun at Katrina.
Katrina raised her laser gun and quickly blasted him in the guts.
The powerful beam knocked him backwards several feet as it seared through his navel. He skidded in the dirt, killed instantly. Wisps of smoke rose from the little hole in his rubber suit where his bellybutton had just been incinerated.
The rest of the men were dumbstruck. They made the fatal error of trying to figure out what had happened, but there was no time for that, because Katrina had switched her laser gun to full auto mode and was gunning them down.
“YAAAHHHRR!” “UUUNGHHH!” “EEEYAAAA!”
Several men fell as the rapid laser bursts raked over them and penetrated their suits. They dropped their guns and collapsed awkwardly, their dead bodies lying in contorted positions.
The men scrambled for safety, firing back at Katrina as they ran. She dropped and rolled, just missing several laser bolts. She dove for cover behind a concrete wall, returning fire.
There was one man who couldn’t decide which direction to run. He backpedaled until he stood with his back against the wall of a building. He was caught out in the open – a sitting duck. Katrina leveled her sights at him and smiled. She relished moments like this, when she was about to fuck up a guy and he knew it but couldn’t stop it. She wondered what kind of panicked expression must be on his face behind that opaque helmet visor as he began to shit bricks.
“You’re mine and you’re fucked,” said Katrina coldly as she fired her laser gun.
The man flung out his arms and legs as Katrina nailed him with a straight line of automatic laser fire from his crotch up to his neck. Sparks flew everywhere as his chest armor took hits. His back slammed against the wall. He slid down the side, his head hanging forward as he landed on his butt with his legs stretched out wide. There was a column of burn marks on the wall where the laser beams had zapped right through him.
Katrina enjoyed the way her laser gun functioned in full auto mode. Laser pulses fired at an incomprehensibly rapid rate from the muzzle of her weapon. The men around her were firing back in full auto mode, too, and the air was ablaze with intense beams of light. The high-pitched whine of the guns was deafening. It was a wild laser shootout.
“This is just like playing laser tag!” said Katrina as she fought back.
(Katrina flashed back to fond memories of playing laser tag with her high school friends. She always managed to win every game, beating the boys as well as the girls.)
Dirt kicked up near Katrina’s feet, but it wasn’t caused by a laser blast. Bullets ricocheted and there was the unmistakable sound of machine gun fire.
“Hey, lasers only!” said Katrina as she located the source of the machine gun fire.
There was a guard tower at one end of the shooting range manned by two Red Sword guards with AK47s. They were shooting at Katrina. They were wearing their standard-issue uniform of bare chests and red Speedos.
Katrina switched to single shot mode and took aim at the men in the guard tower. She slowly pulled the trigger. A split second before the gun fired, she saw the targeting laser light up on one man’s crotch.
The beam hit the man right in his Speedos. He grabbed his burning crotch and grimaced in agony before falling over the side of the tower. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Katrina aimed at the second guard in the tower. Her targeting laser pointed to the man’s rippled six-pack.
A long stream of light slashed through the guard’s belly. He screamed and fell backwards out of the guard tower.
Katrina switched back to full auto mode and turned her attention to a man who was moving closer for a better shooting position. She aimed her laser right at the center of his chest and fired.
A huge shower of sparks erupted from where the man’s chest plate took the fusillade of hits.
“I love it when they spark like that!” said Katrina gleefully as she watched the chest-shot man fall dead.
Another man dropped to one knee and began spraying laser blasts in Katrina’s direction. She had to jump aside to avoid the chunks of concrete it blew off the building. She popped around the corner of the building and shot back.
The blast shot clear through the man’s visor and helmet. His brains were fried and there was no more resistance from him.
Katrina spotted another man running for cover in the woods. She fired at him.
Sparks flew as the lasers cut through the man’s body armor and rubber suit. He dropped his laser gun and stopped dead in his tracks, just standing there as if he were dumbly considering what to do next. . . but he didn’t really have a choice, because Katrina had shot him dead. He soon toppled over and sunk into the grass, making himself fertilizer.
Young studs in their black rubber suits hid in the woods and waited for Katrina to make a move. She’d already killed a bunch of them, and they were reluctant to give her more chances.
“I don’t think that’s Martin shootin’ at us,” one of the men said to his buddy. “Martin was never that good a shot. I bet it’s that assassin chick who wiped out our island bases in the Philippines!”
“Yeah,” agreed the other man. “Man, she’s good with that laser! And did you see her curves in that rubber suit? Shit, I’m getting’ hard just thinkin’ about it!”
“I know what you mean! My dick is trying to push out of my suit!”
The men were lying flat on their bellies, looking around anxiously as they felt their boners growing and rubbing against the lining of their suits. When they heard the sound of snapping twigs behind them, they rolled onto their backs with their laser guns (and their pricks) pointed up. It was too late: Katrina was standing over them with her laser gun ready on full auto mode.
Orange sparks shot from their chest armor as the lasers penetrated it. The two men thrashed and jerked on their backs; it was a savage point-blank shooting. Their arms fell limp at their sides and the toes of their boots twitched a little bit, but they were done. Katrina watched the big mounds in the crotches of their suits rise and fall in a pulsating rhythm; the dead men were creaming the insides of their suits.
“It’s the only part of ‘em still moving,” Katrina idly remarked. “That sticky shit must get all over the place in those tight suits!”
Katrina crept through the woods and looked for the last three men. She could hear them hiding nearby; her superior sense of hearing guided her toward the faint rustling sounds. She eavesdropped on their conversation.
“I say we run for it!”
“No! He’ll see us!”
“He? That’s not a man, you friggin’ idiot; that’s the babe who slaughtered all our guys in the Philippines!”
“You think so?”
“I know so! I ran past Martin’s dead body! He was lyin’ there, totally naked! That chick killed him and then swiped his suit and laser gun.”
“And did you see how fast she ducked out of the way of our shots? They said she has superhuman speed and strength.”
“Yeah, and she was wearing different shoes.”
“She’s a woman, you guys! Doesn’t that make you feel kinda . . . funny?”
The three men touched the ‘funny’ bulges in their suits.
“I can’t believe a girl is fuckin’ us up this bad!”
“Believe it, boys!”
Katrina’s voice suddenly sounded nearby. The three men hopped to their feet and started firing their lasers randomly. The only problem was, they were shooting in the wrong direction. Katrina had a bit of ventriloquist in her, and she had tricked the men into thinking she was in front of them when she was really right behind them.
When the men realized they hadn’t killed the woman, they stopped shooting and panicked.
The three men turned and ran straight towards Katrina. She popped out of the bushes and began firing at will.
The man on the left grabbed his belly as the laser beams gave him a terminal case of stomach ache. He flopped onto his back and jived around wildly.
Flames danced across his rubber suit as the second man got blasted in the gut right where his chest armor ended. He, too, flopped onto his back and began writhing in the dirt.
The third man had already turned in the other direction and was a good distance away when Katrina fired at him.
A shot pegged him in the lower back. The man wailed and fell to the ground. He was injured, but still alive.
Katrina walked between the two gut-shot boys who were squirming on their backs as they moaned and clutched their wounds. Their charred suits smelled terrible. As Katrina stood there, she took off her helmet. Her long, blonde hair tumbled down, its golden hue contrasting starkly with the jet-black color of her rubber suit.
The visual confirmation that this was, in fact, a woman who had wasted them drove the men into a frenzy. They slowly slid their hands away from their burning bellies and passed them over the surging bulges between their legs. When Katrina took off her breastplate, revealing the shapely curve of her tits, the two hunks starting milking their cocks through their suits. Their eyes were filling with longing as they stared up at the gorgeous woman who’d gunned them down. But they were shot up so badly that death was already stealing them away. Their hands fell to their sides as their bodies convulsed in short spasms. Their movements gradually ceased, until they gave one, last thrust of their hips toward the sky. When their butts fell back on the ground, the only part of them still moving was the area of their loins. Their rubber suits throbbed softly up and down as their cocks pumped out sweet jism for the last time. After that, there was nothing to keep Katrina’s interest in the dead men.
“The cleaning bill on those rubber suits must be sky high,” said Katrina as moved on to the last man, who was wounded and not getting very far.
The wounded man was crawling away, dragging himself forward on his belly. As he made his slug-crawl through the woods, Katrina passed him and blocked his path. The man kept moving toward her; his vision was blurred, so all he could see was a person in a black rubber suit just like his. He thought it might be someone who could save him; he had no idea it was the person who’d shot him in the back.
“Come to mama,” said Katrina under her breath.
Katrina waited for the man to arrive at her feet. He finally dragged himself to that point. He blinked his eyes as he stared at Katrina’s feet; these weren’t the boots he was used to seeing worn with the protective suits. These looked like a pair of running shoes – he thought he could make out the adidas logo on them. He stretched out his hand and touched her feet. He looked up her leg and raised his eyes to her face. His worst fears came true: he had crawled his way right to his enemy.
“Please don’t kill me,” he begged Katrina.
“I’m definitely going to kill you,” said Katrina without a trace of compassion, “but I’ll give you a choice: I can fire a laser blast between your shoulder blades and make it quick, or you can choose another method of your demise.”
The man pondered his options. Finally, he tugged on the laces of Katrina’s shoes.
“Smother me,” said the man. “Smother me with your feet.”
Katrina looked around; the coast was clear. No one seemed to have noticed that she’d just massacred more than a dozen men with her laser gun.
“All right,” said Katrina, “if that’s what you want.”
Katrina used her foot to roll the man on his back. He winced from the pain. Then she kicked off her running shoes, exposing her sockless feet. She stepped on top of the man’s face, placing the sweaty soles of her feet against his nose and mouth. The man immediately started coughing and gasping.
“Don’t do that,” said Katrina. “It tickles my feet!”
The man sucked in the pungent but feminine odor of Katrina’s feet. Her toes wiggled around on his nose. He felt her full weight pressed down on him; there was no way to escape. He tried to inhale, but couldn’t. His breathing became desperate and shallow. His face became clammy and changed several shades. His body quivered and began to buck as it instinctively fought for survival. Meanwhile, the man’s hands stroked his crotch, working his cock through the rubber of his suit.
“There ya go,” said Katrina. “Gimme that dicksplash!”
The man was shaking violently now under Katrina’s feet, but she kept her balance and carried out the asphyxiation with deadly precision. He continued jacking off with berserk fury.
“Come on; do it!” yelled Katrina. “Do it before you bite the dust!”
The man was in a race with death. His legs started kicking – it was time to meet his maker. He gave a flurry of pelvic jabs as he humped the air. He was losing it right now.
“That’s it!” said Katrina. “Fill up that rubber suit with your cock custard!”
The man plunged headlong into death, his rigid dick rising and falling the whole time inside his suit. Although Katrina couldn’t see his cumshot, she knew it was big.
“Wow, you did better than any of the others!” Katrina congratulated the snuffed male beneath her feet. She clapped her hands and cheered, “Way to go!”
Now that the man had suffocated and spunked, Katrina stepped off his face. She stripped out of her rubber suit; she was still wearing her black g-string bikini underneath. She slipped on her sneaks and picked up her laser gun.
“This is gonna be useful,” said Katrina as she admired the weapon. “I don’t mind taking one of these with me into battle.”
Katrina searched for her backpack, passing by many dead men strewn about in their tight, black suits and helmets.
“It looks like there was a bad accident at a luge race.”
Night was falling, and the main facility of the Red Sword base remained untouched. Fortunately for Katrina, they were unaware of her infiltration because she’d killed all the soldiers in the outlying areas she’d encountered so far. No one had survived to sound the alarm. So the major component of the terrorist forces at the base was quite ignorant of the fate in store . . .
Before starting her attack, Katrina made a call to Laura at GSL Headquarters on her secure communication line.
“I’m about to go into their central compound,” said Katrina.
“Good,” said Laura. “We estimate between 300 and 400 soldiers at this base. That’s including the ones you’ve already liquidated, of course.”
“Are you telling me the truth this time?”
“Of course,” said Laura. “That’s our best intelligence report.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Katrina as she looked through a pair of binoculars at the barracks.
“Do you want us to send in Special Forces? They can be there in thirty minutes.”
“No,” said Katrina confidently, “I can handle this on my own. Just have them waiting for me near the pickup point in case I have to haul my ass outta here.”
“Very well.” Laura paused and said, “Good luck, Katrina.”
Katrina cut the line. She studied the layout of the compound. Troop quarters were just in front of her; there were several other buildings next to it, including a small armory and power generating plant. She watched some of the lights go out in the barracks.
“I’ll wait until most of them are asleep,” said Katrina. “Then I’ll do my thing.”
Several hours passed, and it looked as though all the lights in the sleeping quarters were out. Random guard patrols forced Katrina to stay low, but she casually offed a few of the guys who got too close to her. She waited until she had a clear path to the dormitory, and then ran for the door.
Katrina crouched in the shadows next to a wall, making sure to avoid the glare of security lamps. She easily picked the lock on the door to the rickety wooden building and slipped inside.
The sounds of snoring men reverberated in the room. Katrina was standing at the end of a long and narrow space. The half of the room nearest to her was filled with bunks, each filled with sleeping Swordsmen. In the second half of the room, most of the men lay on sleeping bags on the floor. All in all there were probably fifty men asleep in the room.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” said Katrina as she licked her lips.
Katrina climbed on the top bed of the bunk closest to her. A handsome young lad was sound asleep. He lay on his back with no sheets covering him – the hot climate made them unnecessary. All he wore were his easily recognizable red swim trunks.
“I wonder if they ever take them off to wash them,” said Katrina as she crinkled her nose at the disgusting thought.
Katrina straddled him with a knee on either side of his thighs. She was so adept at being stealthy, the man didn’t notice a thing. She admired him a moment; many of the men she fought were actually physically attractive to her. It was a shame, she thought, to destroy such young and virile hunks, but her mission was her mission.
“I wouldn’t mind a romp in the hay with this guy,” said Katrina as she looked at the man’s face. “He’s not bad-looking at all. Oh, well. Too bad I’ve got to kill him.”
Katrina started to reach forward with her left hand to cover his mouth. She pressed down her palm over his lips and effectively silenced him. The man awoke with a start and found himself pinned underneath a hot babe in a bikini. It was, in a way, every man’s dream, but this somehow seemed like his worst nightmare.
The man’s voice was well suppressed by Katrina’s hand over his mouth. No one in the barracks heard a sound.
Normally, when Katrina smothered or strangled a man, she didn’t mind if he made a bit of a ruckus, kicking and jumping around as he suffered. In fact, she enjoyed it MORE if the man jumped around. But tonight she had to make sure that her victims didn’t wake up the others, so Katrina had to keep the man’s entire body totally still. His trunk was immobilized as Katrina leaned forward and pressed her own body against his. His legs were kept in check by her thighs. Finally, Katrina lifted her left hand from his mouth and grabbed both of the man’s wrists, lifting them over his head and pinning them against the pillow. To keep the man from raising his voice now that her left hand was off his mouth, Katrina quickly took her right hand and squeezed his throat tightly. She did all this in one, fluid motion. It happened so fast that it was almost invisible to the eye.
Katrina leaned forward and whispered in the man’s ear.
“I’m going to kill you now by strangling you to death,” said Katrina in a soothing voice. “I just thought you’d like to know, since this is a very traumatic event in your life. If it makes it easier for you, feel free to cum in your shorts. That seems to make it a more pleasant experience, I’ve found.”
Katrina’s right hand closed up the man’s throat. He stared into her eyes with a frightened look. It was a surreal experience; he didn’t want to die this way at this particular moment in time, but his youthful cock had never had the pleasure of being so close to such an alluring girl. The thought crossed his mind that he was going to die a virgin. A nervous surge pounded in his groin. Katrina seemed to read his mind. . . or at least his dick.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” asked Katrina.
The choking stud managed a terse nod ‘yes.’
“I thought so,” said Katrina. “I can always tell. I’m not a virgin, you know.”
The lad stared at Katrina, hoping to hear more before she strangled the life out of him.
Katrina smiled and said, “You know that move I just pulled on you? Twisting your arms over your head, pinning you down and choking you so that you can’t make a sound? I learned that when I was sixteen while having sex with one of my boyfriends.”