SCARLETS DOMAIN

Two rows of supple brown-skinned war-babes were dawn up in Lakshmi's palace, the guard of honour, their blue-black hair cascading to sweet buns, clad only in ivory silk loincloths, holding tall javelins, their black doe-eyes smouldering as the tall hit-girl strode between their ranks. Shot-silk hangings in gold and scarlet decked the walls of the palace and the air was thick with the perfume of joss-sticks. Ahead of Draca, Princess Lakshmibai sat on a throne on a raised platform covered with thick Persian rugs. She was totally stunning: willowy legs in black gauze harem-pants and full breasts in a skimpy scarlet satin bra, her navel filled with a lustrous pearl, tinkling ear-rings and belled ankle chains jingling as she stretched languorously on her satin-cushioned chair of state. Her lips were slick with red gloss and keen anticipation at the sight of the redhead.

Draca stopped just short of the dais and the two women made serious eye-contact, realizing instantly that they each wanted the same thing. The rich kohl lining Lakshmi's huge lovely eyes added to their seductive sexiness. She stretched out a slender brown foot, each toe wearing a delicate gold ring, her toe-nails coral pink. Draca went down on one knee and let her lips brush the arch of that satin-skinned dusky foot sufficiently to tease the princess.
'You have acted as my antidote?' she asked in her low tones.
In answer Draca dropped the black leather skirt and let the bloodied blonde head, the platinum tresses clotted in coagulated gore, roll to Lakshmi's feet. At once the tall princess sinuously rose from her throne and clapped her hands, her almond eyes glittering with revenge and spite as she looked on the staring baby-blue eyes of the executed bimbo. Attendants silently shimmered in to take Draca's weapons, bathe her hands and face in water scented with attar of roses, and remove the hideous head from the room.
'Rewards!' barked Lakshmi.
A group of her youngest handmaidens approached, two bearing pale blue cotton bags heavy with gold and jewels which they laid at Draca's feet.
'Now, come and tell me how you took the worthless life of that vile slut.'
A cool, long-fingered hand took Draca's fingers and the princess led her off to an alcove behind peacock-blue silk hangings.

A wide, low bed filled the space, its sheets pistachio green silk, raw and sexy. Somewhere a sitar and tabla began to play slowly, plangently. Lakshmi turned to Draca and smiled, her teeth small and brilliantly white.
'This, too, is part of your reward, brave beauty,' she whispered as her deep red lips touched Draca's midnight- blue- glossed mouth. The tall hit-girl stroked that satin-soft skin of the princess' shoulders and ran her hands down to the clip of the scanty scarlet bra. Lakshmi was also untying the halter that cradled the redhead's tits and soon both were kissing hotly, rubbing erect nipples slowly together. Draca moaned as practiced fingers lowered her thong and then, before she could reciprocate, Lakshmi shimmied out of her harem-pants: she was now swaying to the sitar music, her ear-rings and anklets tinkling with tiny, clear bell-sounds as she sashayed close to the naked assassin. Draca glimpsed a dense wedge of glossy black pubic bush between those slinky brown thighs and then they fell entangled in each other's arms onto the soft, yielding bed. Fingers explored warm, wet slits and tongues flicked nipples. As they knelt facing one another, teasingly kissing while tweaking bare nipples, Draca's killer's instincts told her that they were not alone in the room. She tensed, ready to move fluidly into action.
'Relax, sugar….it's just the next part of your reward….and mine,' giggled the brown beauty.
Behind Lakshmi she could see a tall, naked man, muscular and hung like a goat; he knelt behind the girl who was wriggling in keen anticipation. Draca felt a weight on the bed behind her and gave a sigh: it was half a lifetime since her last experience of a man…fifteen years of sweet Sapphic sex…and now. She let the hemp-laden air enter her lungs and relaxed her lithe body, sleazily rotating her hips to let her sex-slave get his yard inside her. Both girls whimpered softly at the same time as they were gently penetrated by hot hard-on.
'Mmmmmm….so big!' sighed the princess, her lips on Draca's mouth, her eyes shut and her tits jiggling.
'Ooooooh! Shit, he's huge!' grunted the hit-girl as she felt the hot dick slide deeper.
The sitar and tabla began to play quicker rhythms and the two chicks kissed and moaned and wriggled as they were screwed with deliberate and slurping thrusts. Sweating profusely, they both climaxed together gasping obscene delight in the animal fucking that finished the sex act, the slaves jerking hard, jack-hammer pounding in their sticky cunts.

It was late at night. The slaves, after six more mind-blowing screws, had been dismissed exhausted. Lakshmi lay in Draca's arms, nuzzling the nipple of her left breast, exploring her scars with a soft finger, their semen-soaked slits rubbing slippily together as they relaxed in sated bliss.
'If you would like to win more from the treasury of my quim…..'sighed Lakshmi.
'I don't hear myself saying, 'No,' at the moment,' whispered Draca.
'Good! Then you can lead a picked war-band of my guards and take out the Rasta outpost at Zambu….only a day's journey. You can go in at night, dispatch the sentinels, kill Xanga, the bitch who wiped out my foray party, and bring me back the thongs of your victims. You up for it?'
'What do you think? And….oh, yes, just do that again, honeycunny, do it slow, so slow.'

The night was, warm, sticky and still; even winter in post-Apocalypse times was humid and hot. The four young guards were fanned out around Draca as they lay, near naked, in the tall, silky grass. The stars twinkled down and they could see the moon begin to rise, etching the Rasta fort in silver. It lit up, only feet away, an outlying sentry. They could hear the click of ivory anklets as the tall black babe walked towards them. She was a real looker…her boobs big and firm, her legs seemingly endless. Her eyes shone white in the moonlight as she came closer and almost stood on Draca. At once, fluid like a panther, the hit-girl uncoiled from her crouching position among the thigh-high grasses. Her flick knife darted out like a striking cobra and slit the sentry's windpipe. She gagged almost soundlessly, choking on her own hot salty blood, swaying in shock, her boobs juddering as she convulsed in dismay. Draca held her tight enjoying the feel of warm thong against her own crotch, letting the girl's dreadlocked head hang back as he went sickeningly limp in death. Draca rolled the sticky sleek satin thong off the dead bitch's quim and slipped it into her ration-bag. One prize for Lakshmibai. The tall willowy redhead signaled her companions to make a stealthy advance on the high wooden walls of the fort. The four dusky babes made a slender human ladder and Draca climbed from hand to hand till she slipped over the spiked parapet. Then she lowered a length of rope and brought up the girls to stand beside her.

They could see a sentinel on each wall, pacing in the moonlight, tall, statuesque lovelies with proud full breasts and slender legs. Draca signaled the guards to take one each, all except the youngest who accompanied her to her own target. They padded softly along the parapet and came up behind the dreadlocked sentry. Draca held her garotte of knotted rawhide at the ready and speedily looped it over the unsuspecting chick's head. Her helper grabbed the dropped spear that fell from the hand of the black slut who was scrabbling at thin air as the thong tightened round her slim throat, the knot pressing her windpipe harder and harder. Life swam in front of her bulging eyes, her pink tongue lolled from her purple-glossed lips as she choked out her pathetic last breath. Draca held her, pulled back against her own body, her right leg between the dying girl's thighs. She felt the hot wetness spread down her bare leg and spat, 'Dirty cow! You've pissed on me!' She let the babe slide to the wooden decking and tugged off the sodden satin thong. So far, so good: she glanced around seeing that one ebony babe was now flat on the planking with a dagger handle jutting from the small of her back as her thong was peeled lovingly from her hot buns; another was reeling back in the grasp of her killer, who had one brown hand firmly over her working mouth and the other pushing a knife deep into her left tit. But at the fourth wall there was big trouble: the long-haired guard was struggling in a grapple with the Rasta sentinel…both were slashing with blades, gasping out yelps as steel slit ribcage. Draca gestured to her young companion: 'Follow me! Down to the HQ! This will waken the dead, the stupid little cow!'
As they hurried down the steps to the compound they saw the outcome of the noisy struggle above them. Both chicks teetered agonizingly on the edge of the high parapet then toppled over, down in a flailing of long bare limbs onto the stone flags beneath them. The guard lay still, her long glossy black hair fanned out in her mess of blood and brain; the Rata was flopping horribly close by, her back broken in two places.

Draca and Siva sprinted for the door of the HQ and burst in, the hit-girl sensibly dodging to one side as she entered. Siva it was, then, who took the assegai in her dusky belly, the steel blade ripping sweetly through her defenceless guts and tearing out of her back to pin her to the door behind he. She screamed in stark horror as the pain gnawed her tripes and the blood pumped hotly from her ruined navel, staining her ivory silk loincloth a virulent scarlet. Draca sped her dirk at the black warrior who had thrown the spear, taking her neatly between small, pert breasts and killing her instantly; she went down like a pole-axed steer, flat on her back, her heels drumming on the floor. Only one girl was left in the room, the totally gorgeous and completely naked Xanga.
'You piece of shit!' she yelled, 'You've killed my bed-babe! I'll have your eyeballs out, you slut!'
The magnificent war-chick launched herself at the now unarmed redhead. They toppled over together in a smash of shattered furniture, clawing and pounding with nails and fists, kneeing undefended groins, gasping in pain as blows made contact, spitting blood from burst lips. Not for nothing had Draca spent her adolescence as a catfighting tart: she rabbit- chopped Xanga's kidney and then twisted the ebony babe's arm up her back until it left its socket. Xanga fainted in appalling pain and Draca, sitting astride her sweat-sleeked back, took Siva's fallen blade and rammed it hard between her thin shoulder blades till it rang upon the stone floor under her.

The tall assassin got unsteadily to her feet and took in the dead Siva, flopped forward over the assegai, hair trailing and hands still tightly clinging to its shaft. The other two guards stood in the doorway, shocked at the shambles within. Draca went off to get the two thongs from the rumpled bed so lately vacated by Xanga and her lover. They were wet and musky, streaked with purple lip-gloss. More for luscious Lakshmi, she thought as she slipped them into her ration-bag.

In the warming light of the next morning's dawn, Draca and her two companions headed back through the forest towards Lakshmi's tribal lands. They had not slept; they were exhausted, especially Draca, from battle; they were stunned by the loss of two of their companions. As the day wore on and sweat and humidity took its toll, the insects settled in increasingly infuriating numbers on Draca's scratches and bruises. She beat them off in desperate irritation, stung by their bites. She was not thinking straight: her mind was divided between the events of last night, the victory spoiled by the loss of two of Lakshmi's best warriors, the fierce fist-fight with Xanga, the sight of the impaled Siva; the other part of her mind was fixated on pussy, on Lakshmi's bushy tush. It was bad to let sex get in the way of slaughter, you never knew….. It was then that it all happened with gut-wrenching swiftness. The two long-haired brown lovelies were sprung high in the air above her head, shot skywards by nooses that caught around their ankles. They gyrated wildly, squealing in fear as the spun above her. Shit! A trap! She had walked straight into a fucking trap! Draca leapt back in self-preservation, hiding in the thorny, skin-tearing undergrowth, crossbow up and loaded. The squeals of her companions were abruptly terminated by high gurgling screams; she looked up and saw them hanging lifeless, waist-length black hair hanging down in a wave of jet silk, brown bare arms dangling limply, an arrow through each girl's pretty throat.

Out of the bush on the opposite side of the track came four Cave-girls, two archers and two spear-babes. Their hair was tied up in top-knots with a bone driven through to hold it in place and, apart from a thin leather girdle around the midriff, they were completely naked. Draca aimed at the taller of the two archers and fired. The heavy bolt obliterated her left nipple , the head buried in her heart. She coughed softly and her eyes rolled back; then she was dead in the dirt. The other archer was eagle-eyed and fast. As Draca reloaded she let fly a shaft that hit the redhead's right shoulder, zipping through flesh to tear out the other side. The crossbow jerked up and the bolt took the archer in the right eye, pulping it horribly as it bit into her brain. Now the spear-girls were racing over, their short spears with fire-hardened wooden heads. In terrible pain from her mangled shoulder, Draca got the bow readied just in time; the leading Cave-girl stopped the bolt with he throat and flew onto her back from the impact of such a weapon at very close range. The bolt had torn her throat out and gone on to bury itself in the forest behind her. She writhed desperately on her back, trying to keep in the blood and vomit that splattered in gushing spurts from her terrible wound. Draca was struggling to draw her dirk with her left hand when her movements attracted her one remaining foe. The spear lunged down; she swerved aside and back but it drove its hard point into her calf below her knee, grating on bone as it dug in. Draca clenched her teeth and kicked out with her unhurt leg, catching the Cave-girl off balance. The smelly, naked bitch crashed down on top of her, her head butting her face, smashing her nose. As the Cave-girl's hands clutched Draca's throat the hit-girl slashed wildly with her dirk, hacking at the right breast as it dangled above her. Howling in grief at her ripped boob, the Cave-girl got to her knees, hugging the bloody breast tightly as it gushed blood. Draca saw the hairy tush in front of her, the parted thighs, the coral pink of the quim. She drove her dirk up into it. The Cave-girl's ululations shot to banshee volume as her pussy was torn by steel. She reeled away, crawling in agony into the bushes, then she arched her back and began to flop around in her death-throes. At this point Draca passed out.

She had never been so deliciously warm. Warm without and glowingly warm within. Luxury. Something infinitely soft and silky, heavy and warm enveloped her. She dared not open her eyes: this could be Valhalla for all she knew. But her senses spoke to her: she was under fine fur, sable or mink; she was on soft sheets over a springy heather mattress, its perfume mingling with the scent of eucalyptus and pine that filled her nostrils. Bits of her hurt when she stretched out to luxuriate in it all and once more she drifted into oblivion.
Still gloriously warm, serene, contented, tranquil. She dared to open her eyes and saw above her a crocodile swimming through space. She must be mad or in hell…..That black thing by her pillow? Some beaked demon?
'Draca! Draca! Dishy Draca!' it cawed raucously.
She lay back and laughed. Only Matthias Corvinus called her that, the magus' tame crow, his servant, ambassador and spy.
'Feeling better, I trust?' A familiar baritone voice, never more welcome.
'At the risk of a cliché, how did I get here?'
'Matthias, who knows far too much for even a highly intelligent crow, told me. He had, I'm afraid, headed for the two rope-trapped guards of Lakshmi, aiming to take luncheon on them. Then he saw you. For once, he assured me, you were not a pretty sight. I summoned Orca and Wyrd and we brought you here so I could treat your wounds.'
'I'm naked…my clothes…?'
The sorcerer coughed.
'Orca and Wyrd. They stripped and bathed you. Not that it would matter had I done so as my affections are directed elsewhither…'
'You are a man, Magus, in spite of the irritating show of dessicated academicism. How bad was I?'
'Fairly. One arrow through the right shoulder. Barbed head, not, fortunately toxic. One spear-wound in calf. Deep, wide, poisoned. Not, fortunately, fatal, simply a nasty hallucinogenic venom concocted, at a guess, from what were called by the vulgar, 'magic mushrooms.' Multiple scratches, cuts, contusions. Oh, and a broken nose.'
'Not bad, then.'
'No, your beauty is saved by a nasal splint that will leave you with not too much of a corkscrew in the nose…'
'Ha, ha. When can I go home?'
'Three more days before I could consider letting you stir from that bed.'
'Your bed.'
'True. I am camping on furs and rugs. Lakshmi…'
'Yes?'
'Was in two minds…happy to receive, via one of my agents, the clothing of your victims, not so happy to lose her four best guards. There is your original reward and ….one of her golden toe-rings as, she said, a memento. No charm to allure a Lapland witch, but then, I did not really anticipate that she would have one. A flighty young woman, I thought. Now, if you will rest, I shall make you some of my late grandmother's chicken broth. It was always considered a panacea.'
'That's fine by me, Dec. Remind me to rest on my laurels for a month or two.'
'Ha! Chance would be a fine thing! Would you accept a wager that says that you will be out scalp-hunting within the fortnight?'
'No….I probably will be, knowing me…..'