Ulfa stretched and staggered to her feet. Her boobs were bare, big and beautiful; all she wore was a wolf pelt wrapped around her loins so that the tail hung down between her shapely legs. Half her face was a mass of scar tissue from having a burning torch thrust in it during a night attack years ago. She aimed a gob of spittle at Lalage and laughed loudly when it hit her cheek. ‘I hate your bimbo beauty, you cow…Just wait till we get you to Lakshmi…I’m sure I’d give up a cut of the reward for the pleasure of wasting your pretty face, baby-doll!’ snarled Ulfa. Her companion laughed as the raven-haired bounty-hunter walked over to a nearby clump of bushes to take a piss. Katya wore only a short black leather mini-skirt, her tip-tilted little titties bared. A vicious livid scar ran from her upper lip along her broken nose and across her brow until it mercifully lost itself in her brown hair. Her left eye was covered in a black leather patch. She straddled the cringing and crouching bimbo, prodding her belly with the tip of her long sword. ‘When I have my piss, honey, I’m gunna shower it all over you…bad hair day for bimbo-babe, see?’ she laughed. Over by the bushes, Ulfa had stripped off her wolf fur and was squatting to shit noisily. ‘An’ when I take a dump I’m gunna drop my cookies on you,’ added Katya to the white-faced and shaking spy.

They were her last words: boar spear in hands, Draca dropped lightly from her hiding place in the sweet-scented branches and landed just behind Katya. The foot long, six inch broad blade drove down between bare shoulder blades to rip out through the waist band of the sexy black leather skirt. Katya keened her agony, her one eye staring in terror at the steel spear-head that thrust through her body, impaling her skinny beauty. The blade forced its way further out from the exit wound, driven by the force of Draca’s jump from the tree. About two feet of shaft jutted bloodily from the bounty-hunter’s ripped tripes and the scarlet blood coursed down her long bare legs as she sagged in a ghastly way that tokened oncoming death. On her knees she could only clutch the bloody shaft that impaled her and cough out spurts of scarlet bubbling blood. She quivered and then toppled forward, dead before she hit the ground. Already Draca had her crossbow at the ready and was turned to aim at Ulfa. She hooked back the bowstring and flicked the first bolt into place. Ulfa was crawling towards her axe, propped by the tree where she had hung her wolf-skin loin- covering. Her bare buns presented an excellent target and Draca squeezed the trigger in grim satisfaction. The black-feathered bolt struck savagely in her asshole and she jerked up on her knees with a wild scream as the pain tore through her. She could feel steel in her shitpot, driven deep in her dung. Feebly she began to pluck at the tuft of feathered flights that stood out from the cleft of her pretty butt, her fingers trying to pull out the bolt that was so deep in her entrails she could feel its steel head cut at every twist of her agony-racked body. Now she lurched to her feet and stumbled for her axe. With blood dribbling down her legs she caught up the axe and turned on Draca.The redhead put down her crossbow and drew her short sword. She met Ulfa half-way and side-stepped a murderous swing of the razor-sharp axe. Ulfa grunted, ‘Fuck you, you bitch! I’m gunna gut you for this, I’m gunna rip your tit off, you fuckin’ cow!’ Again the axe head whizzed close by Draca’s buckskin top as Ulfa went berserk with pain and shame. She lurched and staggered, swinging the axe from side to side, forcing Draca back towards the body of Katya. Terribly wounded, the bounty-hunter was still full of fight and, as Decimus had said, as dangerous as a cornered rat. The raven-haired war-chick side-stepped, still in control, and the mighty blow of her blade nicked deep in Draca’s arm just below the barbed wire tattoo. Stung, he jumped back, letting Ulfa stumble from the force of the blow and loss of blood. The bounty-hunter reeled and sagged down onto one knee, the axe lowered as she panted for breath and sought the strength to rise to her feet. But Draca was now behind her, one hand clawing back the glossy raven tresses. Ulfa was staring up at her, saliva frothing on her lips as she spat out her hate. ‘You fuckin’ slut…’ Slowly the razor-sharp edge of the short sword was drawn across Ulfa’s tightly stretched pallid throat, blood gushing from the neat, surgical slit that ran from ear to ear. The dark blood gurgled noisily in her open mouth and poured from her wide, gaping lips as she twitched in spasms and died.

Draca let her lifeless body drop to the ground and retrieved her bolt from her butthole. She walked over to the blonde spy and gently unhooked her bikini top. She used the warm gold lame bra to bind her flesh-wound and smiled as Lalage made the most of her full and luscious breasts, flaunting them at Draca while she moistened her glossy, pouting lips with her tongue and opened her long and sexy legs in unmistakable invitation. Draca loosened her halter top and cut Lalage free. They stood clinging to one another, their full boobs pressed close, nipples erect in lust. Lalage was rhythmically rubbing her sex against Draca’s warm mound as she glued her lips to the redhead’s mouth. ‘My saviour!’ she moaned. ‘Oh, those whores would have defiled my legendary beauty….but you, babe, oh, be my lover, please, please!’ Draca knew it was all an act, that the blonde was scheming how to kill her even as they kissed so hotly. She slipped off her belt and then peeled off her thong to reveal her love triangle of auburn curly hair. ‘Take me now, sweetlips’ she urged as Lalage sank to her knees and began the most erotic clit-licking the redhead had ever experienced. It was difficult to keep on the alert with that wonderful supple tongue working miracles in her cunt but Draca could see Lalage reach for her dirk where it lay in its scabbard on the fallen weapon-belt. She moved with all the quicksilver speed and ease of a trained gymnast, a yoga mistress. Her glorious, sleek and muscular thighs tightened around the spy’s throat. Lalage choked, her face forced against Draca’s dripping-wet pussy, the thighs squeezing the air from her. Draca dropped to the ground, taking the bimbo with her, forcing her on her side, squeezing, squeezing. Only pathetic, stifled gasps came from the blonde now, as her body convulsed in a desperate fight for air. The hitgirl grinned as she tightened her wicked thighs and felt, simultaneously, the release of a blissful orgasm and the spasm that told her she held a corpse between her legs.

Draca lay spread-eagled on the crisp grass, luxuriating in the climax that rippled through her. Her legs open wide, her arms flung out, a blonde head lolling limply on her crotch. After a while she got up, dressed and examined Lalage’s lovely corpse: typically she had pissed her bikini bottoms in death, the cowardly bitch. A flash of the short sword and that blonde head was rolling across the ground towards the bodies of Ulfa and Katya. Draca stripped Katya’s bloodstained black skirt and used it to wrap up her trophy. Princess Lakshmibai would be very grateful. There would be rich pickings in gold and jewels, the favour of a tribal leader, the chance of further assassinations….and hadn’t she heard something about a harem of male sex-slaves? Oh, and, if at all possible, a love potion to work on Lapland witches. That sweetie the magus deserved some reward for his very accurate and invaluable information.