" A Silenced Outpost " by Knobarius

[esercito sconfitto]

OUR STORY SO FAR: near a lost temple, while searching for the mysterious Black Lotus, the evil spy Jessika managed to kill the muscular “Black Ops” agent Red, who fell into quicksand and was quite dead when Jessie gloatingly dragged her scantily clad body out. She also killed the young Indian who had been her guide, lest he reveal the location of the temple and the much-coveted Black Lotus. After cleaning the quicksand from Red’s impressive body, the spy packed up her dead victims and prepared to return to her base camp, with a suitable cover story….


A SILENCED OUTPOST


by Knobkerrie


When Jessie rode into the remote guard outpost with the dead, naked body of Red slung across the saddle of her horse, and the equally nude corpse of her young Indian warrior tied to one of the mules following, the young captain of secret police who was her (well-bribed) contact and current lover gazed open-mouthed in amazement.

Jessie smirked. The captain’s look of surprise only made her look sexier as she stood there with hands on hips, dressed in epauletted, short-sleeved khaki shirt tied up under her full breasts to expose her navel and taut brown belly, khaki shorts, and desert boots below rolled-down khaki socks, a Browning Hi-Power automatic in a flapover holster at her hip. She was a mestizo girl, with long black hair, high cheekbones, flashing black eyes, and fine Spanish features. Her white teeth flashed in a smile.

“So, you have killed the great Red, eh?” Captain Lola’s grinned broadened, and Jessie returned her smile. Then the policewoman noticed the Indian boy’s corpse. “But Pablo…he is dead too?”

“Afraid so,” lied Jessie coolly. “Red managed to kill him before I threw her into the quicksand. I didn’t see it. You know how men can get careless around a beautiful woman,” she added, rubbing her hand across Red’s smooth bare buttocks. She explained to Lola, more or less accurately, how she had arranged for Red to suffocate in the quicksand before retrieving, stripping, and washing off her dead body.

Lola approached the mule bearing Pablo’s body and grasped his long black hair, pulling his head up and gazing into his slack, handsome face. She checked the pulse at his throat, lifted one eyelid with her thumb, and kissed him on his parted lips before letting his head flop forward again. “He was too much trouble anyway. Let me help you with these bodies.”

Pausing only to let Jessie dismount and to admire Red’s well-muscled corpse slumped over the back of the horse, the secret policewoman untied the dead agent’s bare ankles and wrists, then grunted as both women unslung the heavy body and eased it to the grass. They stood with the body between them, gazing in awe upon Red as she lay displayed naked in death, toes and tits up, head tilted slightly back, fine lips parted, eyes closed. Her arms were straight at her sides, hands palms up, her legs spread slightly. Despite her impressive muscles, she was a masterpiece of feminine beauty as she lay dead. “Magnifico!” exclaimed the captain, her gaze lingering on the dead spy’s glorious breasts, nipples pointed skyward, and moved down to the red patch between her strong parted thighs. “You have won a great victory.”

The two women embraced over the flame-haired agent’s naked body and kissed passionately. “We shall take her to bed,” Lola half-gasped, pulling her lips reluctantly away. Jessie smiled and nodded.

At first Lola seized Red’s bare ankles and began to drag her over the grass, but Jessie protested that her hair would get too dirty. “And we don’t want dear Red to get too scratched, do we?” She laughed musically. Jessie then grabbed the dead spy under the armpits, while the policewoman lifted up her bare legs at the knees. Red’s head slumped forward onto her magnificent boobies as they bore her, naked feet first, into the hacienda and into Jessie’s bedroom, placing her on the very large bed with her head on the pillow. “Comb out her hair,” directed Jessie. “The poor girl could use it.” Lola smilingly smoothed out the dead woman’s shining red tresses while Jessie went outside and untied the slain Indian and pulled back on his hair. The slim, naked body tumbled into the dust, manhood limp against his thigh. She began to drag him off by his bare feet – cave girl style, she thought – then thought better of it, and grabbed his limp arm at the wrist. She slung the dead boy over her shoulder, savoring the feel of his impressive organ against her body, and his utter limpness in her arms, and patted him on the bottom before carrying him into the house.

She dumped him on the bed beside Red’s naked corpse with the air of a victrix, as Captain Lola grinned and caressed the dead agent’s left breast. The two women arranged the bodies so that they lay cozily side by side, Pablo’s head resting on the big agent’s bare shoulder. Jessie took Red’s right leg and laid it over Pablo’s left leg, so that his organ lay against her muscular inner thigh. “Just like two lovers sleeping,” observed Jessie. Now Red’s once-strong legs were well-parted, to expose her sex.

Captain Lola backed into a corner so she could observe the touching scene at a distance, and Jessie drew her customized integrally silenced Ruger .22, to shoot the policewoman neatly through the breast just above the cleavage of her khaki shirt. “Uh!” the girl cried, head jerking back and mouth open, eyes closed. Then she looked at her beautiful killer and whispered huskily, “Jessika…” before sighing erotically and relaxing, her body sliding down the wall, legs parting wide as she slumped into a sitting position, head to her right, chin against the swell of her breast, lips parted, lustrous black eyes gazing dully at the floor – a single neat hole in her lovely bosom.

“It’s called tying up loose ends, honey,” replied Jessie, blowing the smoke from her gun’s barrel. She walked over to her former lover and bent down to feel the pulse at the girl’s throat and wrist. She was dead. “And you’re tied up nice and proper. What a bad girl I am!” She turned Lola’s head and looked into her lovely face, then closed her eyes gently with thumb and forefinger. “Sleep tight, baby,” she whispered, kissing her half-parted lips, and let her head fall back onto her ample bosom in a sleepy pout.

Jessie searched the dead policewoman’s body swiftly and efficiently, but with her own sensual touch, relishing the act of fishing with her hand between her victim’s warm brown breasts, and taking time to caress her taut exposed belly. She removed Lola’s shoes and socks to complete the search, letting her bare feet thump to the floor. Another kiss to Lola’s pouty lips, and then Jessika stood up, gazing down at the lovely picture of bare brown limbs, half-bared breasts and revealing khaki garments. “I love a woman in uniform. Too bad she’s dead tired.”

Jessie stripped down to black bikini panties, wound a silken headband around her brows, and put on a small black backpack which would contain everything she would need, including a very compact carbine. She streaked her luscious body with black war paint, more for style than for camouflage. There was more cleaning up to do before she could leave the outpost. And it would be fun!

There were five border guards at this secret police outpost under the late Captain Lola’s command. All would require their lips permanently hushed before Jessika could safely leave. And that meant a quick, silencing death.

The young Indian girl doing sentry duty at the other aluminum hut, nude except for her khaki shorts and floppy desert military hat, an AK-47 slung over her bare shoulder, failed to stifle a bored yawn before Jessie, who had stalked her barefooted, clapped a hand over her still-open mouth and slipped her slim-bladed dagger into the girl’s lower back. The sentry struggled briefly, bare feet kicking, trying to cry out, then sighed and went limp, toes relaxing and canting to the side. “Die quietly, barefoot girl,” whispered Jessie into her comatose victim’s ear, and the Indian girl did so very quickly. Jessie lowered her gently to the ground. She straddled her victim and made sure of her with a blow across the throat with the edge of her hand, then grabbed the dead sentry girl under the armpits and dragged her around the corner, her bare heels leaving the only trace as they scored twin trails in the dust. She squeezed her bare breasts mockingly as she looked down at the dead guard’s slack face. “Sleepy sentries get put to sleep for good,” she whispered before kissing those slack lips.. She searched her victim’s shorts, found nothing of interest, and left the Indian girl lying there looking very sleepy indeed, eyes closed and lips parted, and almost naked, dead toes canted outward, her head resting on her desert cap.

The second sentry was a black girl with a position in a sturdy tree, resting her SKS carbine in the fork of two large branches. She had removed her sandals for better climbing, and they were at the foot of the tree. Of course, she was looking at the outer perimeter and not expecting Jessie to sneak around to her side, using brush as cover. Jessie had already unfolded her handy 9mm carbine with scope and suppressor, and she took careful aim at the left pocket of the girl’s long-sleeved khaki shirt. The scope let her see the girl’s face as she fired – a lovely face, with full lips and close-cropped black hair under her brimmed fatigue cap. Tump!

The black girl cried out, Jessie watching her grimace with a flash of white teeth through her scope. Then she suddenly swooned, eyes closing. Her limp body fell out of the tree and hit the ground like a rag doll. Jessika knew the guard was dead – probably even before she hit. But she approached her with caution anyway, padding barefoot, a half-naked, warlike vision. The guard lay face down, eyes half-open, head to the side. The assassin prodded her rump with a bare foot, then slipped her foot under the guard’s belly and rolled her over. She flopped onto her back, head lolling to the side on a broken neck. “Hmmm….she got it even if the bullet didn’t kill her.” She noted the neat, almost bloodless bullet hole in her victim’s shirt, and used her toes against the slack jaw, to push the Negress’s lovely head to the other side.

She gently closed her eyes, laid her finger across her victim’s sensuous, parted lips and white teeth, searched between the dead guard’s warm, dark breasts, and patted down her inner thighs. In the guard’s hip pocket she found a lead-filled leather blackjack, heavy enough to kill with a single blow if used properly. “And I know how to use it, baby,” she said, patting the dead girl on the cheek. She grabbed her warm ankles and dragged the guard’s limp body into some brush, laying her out as though for a siesta. Though she was otherwise fully dressed in long sleeved khaki shirt and trousers, her naked feet gave her a wanton look. “Sleep tight, you black slut,” whispered Jessika with a wink, after kissing her full, slack lips.

The second of the post’s two Indian girl, a slim young beauty, had come off sentry duty and was actually taking a siesta in her hammock, inside one of the huts, bare legs crossed at the ankles, arms above her head. She wore only a red loincloth, with a 9mm Browning in her belt, tucked in just to the left of her cute navel. Jessie looked down at her beauty, warmed by the sun which came in half-filtered by the mosquito screen over the window, and carefully placed the point of her dagger at the girl’s left armpit. Then she clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth and plunged the knife home into her heart. The girl’s eyes snapped open, stared wildly, her bare legs flailing as she grabbed at Jessie’s arms. But her strength quickly faded, her eyes half-closed, her arms falling away lifelessly, legs dropping, her muffled cries turning to a sigh as she went totally limp. Jessie withdrew her knife slowly from the girl’s body, then cautiously lifted her palm from her half-open mouth. She checked her throat for a pulse, and smiled. She was dead. Jessie closed her eyes, gently, kissing her eyelids and parted lips.

Jessie let her dagger drop point-first into the earthen floor, stood back and inspected her latest trophy. The Indian girl sprawled in her hammock, naked legs and arms dangling over the sides, still swinging gently. Jessie stopped the hammock, and arranged the half-nude body carefully, placing the dead guard’s arms at her sides and lifting her legs back into the hammock, crossing her bare feet at the ankles. “I’ll be back for you later, kid,” she told the girl, with a kiss on her warm mouth.

She drew her silenced pistol before surprising another off-duty guard in the shower stall in the next room – a beautiful, dark-skinned mestiza girl with magnificent boobs and curly, shoulder-length black hair, who opened her eyes wide in surprise, and opened her mouth to scream. A tiny red hole appeared in the center of her forehead as she grunted, and the policewoman collapsed, splaying out like a starfish, arms and legs thrown wide. Her head lay to the side, lovely dark eyes staring, their whites a gleaming contrast to her dark skin, mouth open as though still in surprise, teeth gleaming as the shower sprayed down on her face and chest. Jessika took the shower head and playfully let the water move down to the dead girl’s private parts, then shut it off. “Now that’s what I call a clean kill!” she giggled. She bent down to close the girl’s lustrous black eyes and slap her wet boobs before kissing her fiercely on her slack mouth.

Jessika coolly proceeded to strip down and take a shower, with the guard’s dead body lying naked at her feet, washing off the sweat and black war-paint, at times letting a bare foot rest between the slain girl’s soap-slick breasts in smug triumph. She left the girl’s wet corpse where she had fallen, and then dressed herself in the dispatched guard’s khaki shorts, shirt, and fatigue cap, slipping her feet into her leather sandals.

There was only one guard left to kill. Red entered the communications hut and smiled at the girl seated in front of the computer. She was a slim, beautiful, fair-skinned blonde, her hair in a long ponytail, dressed in a long-sleeved khaki shirt and revealing khaki shorts, with flat leather sandals. Jessie noted that her pistol belt hung on one arm of the swivel chair. “You’re back,” smiled the fresh-faced beauty, and turned back to her monitor. Jessie slugged her across the back of her golden head with her new blackjack as hard as she could. “Uh!” she cried out, and then moaned sensually as her features relaxed and she slumped over the desk, cheek against the cool metal, one hand resting on her keyboard, the other arm dangling lifelessly. Jessie gave her another blow for good measure, then checked the pulse at her throat. “You’re dead, honey. But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

She gently lifted the dead policewoman’s arm off the keyboard, leaned over her nicely perfumed body, and tried to type in the series of code word she thought would gain her access to certain on-line police files. But her attempts failed. “They must have changed them,” she noted coolly, patting the blonde on her warm back. She stood up, then carefully hauled the dead girl back into a sitting position in the chair, slumped with head thrown back and sweet mouth open, arms hanging limp, naked legs splayed. Her feet were bare, the girl having slipped off her sandals after turning back to work at her desk. Jessie patted her chest, finding a small notebook in her breast pocket. “That’s enough for now,” she whispered,” and after kissing the girl pulled her out of the chair, laying her carefully at full length on the floor. She sat down in the still-warm chair with the blonde’s lovely corpse behind her, and consulted the notebook. She grinned broadly. Here were the codes!

She first slipped a disk into the computer which would download automatically all the secret police files on the hard drive, then tapped into the secret police central archives to investigate a few matters of interest to her. After that she inserted another disk, which would automatically wipe out any information from the last two weeks, as well as any specific mentions of Jessika herself -- or the Black Lotus.

She rose and examined the body of the young blonde girl as she lay face up on the floor. She looked fresh and neat in her long-sleeved khaki shirt and shorts, even while her pale bare legs and feet gave her a very naked look, sweetly vulnerable. Her blue eyes were closed, her sweet lips parted as though she still breathed. Jessika straddled the body and resumed her search, patting her down systematically, then plunging her hand into the girl’s deep cleavage. She found nothing of interest, but it was enjoyable anyway.

Jessie removed the shirt she had “borrowed” from the dead guard in the shower and stood bare-breasted above her latest victim. “I suppose I’ll just have to move these bods in reverse order,” she muttered. “First killed, last hauled off. So I’ll start with you, baby cakes.” She seized the blonde’s naked feet and dragged her luscious body to the doorway, then bent down and slung her lifeless form over her shoulder. “You’re dead, honey. But you’ve still got great legs,” sighed Jessie, caressing them as she walked off, the dead policewoman’s arms and naked feet dangling limply.

She took her to her bedroom, where Lola was still slumped dead in the corner, and laid the blonde out on the floor. Next to be moved was the shower girl, Jessika enjoying the feel of the dark girl’s sodden body warm against her bare shoulder, dripping water as Jessika carried her and laid her beside the dead blonde. The next warm body was that of the Indian girl in the hammock, her loincloth stripped away. “I’m really a cave girl now, carrying off my prey,” announced Jessie to the dead girl. “Or maybe a lady Indian fighter, since I’ve got this dead India over my shoulder.”

Next came the barefoot black sentry, Jessie eager to see her naked as she slung her slim khaki-clad form over her shoulder. Finally the dead Indian sentry girl, Jessika choosing to carry her romantically in her arms, the girl nude save for her shorts, head back, mouth open, arms dangling. She laid her next to the black girl. Lola was the easiest; Jessie simply grabbed her naked heels and pulled the dead policewoman across the room to join the line of barefoot corpses. “Sorry, Lola honey. But now your command at this post consists of a bunch of dead girls.”

She stripped all six bodies nude, then made her dating arrangements for the night. She carried Lola to the bed and laid her out on Red’s right, the dead policewoman’s slack lips kissing Red’s muscular shoulder, after dragging Pablo’s nude body across so that she herself could fit between the young warrior and Lola’s body. She took the young blonde’s cooling body, stark naked, and laid her out in the room’s other bed. “You’ll be fine here, baby,” she said, kissing her on the lips.

She laid out the other four guards with their heads toward the bed, presenting a straight line of inviting bare breasts. The two dead sentries, black and Indian, she left lying side by side, the Indian girl’s head on her comrade’s shoulder. On the black girl’s other shoulder lay the cheek of the second Indian girl, and next to her lay the nude, dead policewoman from the shower, her dark, delicious mestiza body still moist, mouth sensuously open. “Pretty maids all in a row!” she chortled. “Sleep tight, honeys. I’ve relieved you all of duty.” Jessie would leave them there on the floor for the night; in the morning – with help from her pilot -- she would lug their corpses, along with those of Lola and the pretty blonde, em into the outpost’s walk-in freezer and leave them there, dead and naked, for the secret police patrol to find when it arrived in two days. She would have to fill out some amusing toe-tags for them, she thought.

But for now…she ravished the still-warm body of the young blonde, then Lola. She turned from the dead policewoman to young Pablo, injecting him with a special drug to re-arouse his limp manhood. After riding him to her own exhaustion, she turned to caress Red, to kiss her slack lips, feel her muscles, and lightly slap her face to remind her that she, Jessie, had conquered the beautiful creature who lay dead beneath her. What a trophy she made! “You are all mine, Red,” Jessika whispered into her victim’s ear.

Still gazing on Red’s glorious form, she used her handheld transmitter to radio in her instructions to the pilot of the helicopter which was to arrive the next morning, to take her far from the camp. “Yes, make sure you have everything prepared….one live passenger, and one” – she looked down at her right hand, fingering the dead Indian’s limp organ – “no, make that two bodies for transport.” She snuggled against Lola’s warm breast, and prepared for a good night’s sleep.