"Battle Plan"

[esercito sconfitto]

Battle Plan
by gagtech
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(Author'sNote)
Greetings from the Pacific Northwest,
I am sure that most of you good folks have noticed that I have a “thing” for middle aged women of authority. This story remains true to that formula but includes a few younger gals as well.
My days of Military service provide many fond memories. I can claim with absolute certainty that many of our brave service women are hiding a little streak of freak under all that professionalism. There are more than a few thongs and lacy bikinis beneath those uniforms. Enjoy!!!

In the not so distant future, history continued to unfold. As always, the course of humanity brought applause from many and distain from others. There were many Americans in particular who felt that their country’s status in the world community had slipped a few notches. Issues such as the redistribution of wealth, government sponsored health care and the like had long been the subject of heated disagreement. For most of the country’s citizens, these issues had not risen above that; a topic of conversation. As it has always been, however, there were small groups with action in mind. While most of the active opposition consisted of public protest and political participation, there was a small group that was willing to risk all in their efforts. Gina Lawrence was one of these.
Gina had spent her entire adult life in one or another sort of government service. Beginning with six years in Army Intelligence, she had built a solid career that led to the pentagon. Her official position was nothing of note in the world of Washington power brokering. Most saw her as nothing more than a glorified secretary. That was exactly how it had to be. Her life depended on it.
The current mission was high profile and risky. Gina’s calm demeanor masked an adrenaline flow that would send some into the guard rail as she steered her BMW up interstate 95. The correspondence she was expecting was now a few minutes late, but experience had conditioned her well. The soft notification tone of her onboard computer sounded just as she approached the exit ramp to I-395. The text was short and completely meaningless to anyone else. Gina understood the content clearly. Acutely aware of the forces at play and the situation’s covert nature, she prepared to turn around and head back south on 95.
The unusual scenario played out and 40 minutes later the 37 year old brunette, of olive complexion entered the lobby of an upscale Northern Virginia hotel. The desk clerks were busy with checkouts and took no notice despite the clicking of Gina’s high heels against the marble floor. She rode to the 6th floor alone before passing two unconcerned guests in the hallway leading to room 627. The card key unlocked the door on the first swipe. The scene that greeted her was odd but not alarming, considering the elements involved. Two women sat back to back in wood framed chairs. Both were bound, gagged and blindfolded. Both had also been stripped to their underwear. Gina knew the identity of both women, for she had sent them to the hotel the night before. The ash blond agent in the smooth, tan hipster and bra was thirty- something year old “Carla”. Her partner was the slightly senior black ponytailed “Amy”, clad only in black string bikini panties and matching bra. Neither woman struggled as they were freed from the black cloth cleave gags, blindfolds and white nylon rope. As the agents dressed, “Amy” relayed the morning’s events. A woman had called and instructed them to strip to their underwear, place pillow cases over their heads and kneel facing the far wall, hands behind their heads with fingers interlaced. In a matter of minutes this phantom woman entered the room. The woman did not speak as she restrained them. She left them just as their superior found them; Arms bound behind their backs and ankles together. The suit case was missing. Gina knew that this meant the operation was a go. As if nothing bizarre had occurred, Gina’s operatives quietly readied themselves to check out of the hotel. Gina looked to the sky in frustration after climbing into her German machine. “Looks like more rain”, she quietly uttered.





A day later across the continent, the new direction of the United States Navy quietly slipped beneath the Coronado Bridge. Cutting the water like a shark, the USS Equality and her core “blue” crew was a sight to behold. At 378 feet, and displacing 3000 tons, she commanded the respect of friend and foe alike. The 3 Freedom class LCS ships in service had at this point been worked, re-worked and modified until the defense department embraced the concept completely. The craft was capable and well suited for the mission of her countries future. She was fast and brought a big punch. Her crew at full mission was small and cost effective. There was one feature of the Equality however that had some folks in a tizzy. She was commanded by Cmdr Teresa Rawlins. Rawlins was a competent officer who had earned her keep. Her handpicked crew had responded at every opportunity. They had answered with vigor uncommon even in an institution as seasoned and proud as the US Navy. Most in the know were in awe. A small but determined few were sworn to end it. The problem for these zealots was ideological. Cmdr Rawlins had answered the call with a crew and security detail that was entirely female.
At her inception she had been called Detroit and slated as LCS-7. This had all changed with the election of the previous administration. The name had been changed to Equality and it was determined that its small size and low profile mission was ideal to advance political will. Cmdr Rawlins was selected as skipper and allowed to choose her own crew. Unlike the Captains of her sister LCS vessels she was also allotted a Marine security detail. Like the crew, these 7 Marines were female. The wheels were in motion when the current administration took the reins. Her success was lauded publicly but cursed in quiet, private rooms. Ironically the brave ladies of the USS Equality were well received by most members of the Navy. She was known throughout the fleet as the USS Hottie. The source of this moniker was obvious from Cmdr Rawlins down.
On this day she had set sail for a short voyage. She was to meet up with several ships of various nations for an event commonly known as a dog and pony, a short 3 day exercise to demonstrate international cooperation. They would host the public affairs officer of a small Ecuadorian warship for the duration of the exercise. Most of the crew anticipated somewhat of an operational vacation. The moral was high as the sleek, modern warship slipped from San Diego bay into the open water of the Pacific.

Only 100 miles to the north, moral was not high for Teniente De Fragata or Lieutenant Junior Grade Sophia Corrales. She would not be meeting with Cmdr Rawlins this evening as planned. The 24 year old Officer of traditional Latin beauty was a little tied up. Actually, she was heavily tied up.
Sophia had departed her assigned ship and checked into a Long Beach suite in preparation for an evening dinner with Cmdr Rawlins. The Equality was on course to drop anchor in the harbor that afternoon, leaving the young officer plenty of time to change into civilian clothes and enjoy a drink and a nap before meeting with her American sister in arms. It was on her return to the suite that she had been confronted as she opened the door. Sophia had been trained to resist should an event like this occur but the assault came quick and with overwhelming force. All of her military training could not possibly overcome close to 100,000 volts. As she regained her senses, she felt as if she had been drugged. It took a few seconds but slowly her surroundings became clear. She was in the back of some type of cargo van that was moving. Across the van’s cargo compartment, an attractive red headed woman of comparable age pointed a small handgun in her direction. Her assailant was dressed casually in faded jeans and black tank top, adding to Sophia’s confusion. As she took in her environment, the Ecuadorian came to terms with the obvious. She was bound with rope hand and foot. A cloth of some sort pulled painfully at the corners of her mouth. Her clothes were missing, with the exception of the deep purple bra and matching thong. There was no other conclusion to be had. She was tied, gagged and at the mercy of an unknown kidnapper!
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“Attention on deck!” Sounded Staff Sergeant Erica Littleton, like a roar from an agitated lion. “At ease ladies”, immediately followed from the ship’s 40 year old chestnut haired commander as she appeared on the quarterdeck. Commander Teresa Rawlins, in service dress blues, was boarding her vessel after returning from a semi-formal dinner with the Ecuadorian Public Affairs Officer. She was escorted by the slightly dark featured Staff Sergeant Littleton, a 10 year Marine veteran, and head of the security detail. As Cmdr. Rawlins accepted the standard report from deck officer, Ensign Allison Young, SSgt Littleton, wearing khaki and green service “C”s, signaled the water taxi all clear. The small craft disappeared, rumbling into the darkness. “That is all this evening Staff Sergeant. You are dismissed.” Teresa commanded before stepping through the hatch.
Commander Melanie or “Mel” Atkins was Teresa’s red headed, fair skinned executive officer. She was engaged in some chit-chat with the ship’s senior enlisted sailor Master Chief Gail Andrews as the pair awaited an informal briefing from their commander. Both wore the blue camouflage patterned utilities of the sea service.
“Evening Ladies”, came Teresa’s greeting as she entered the conference room, “Nothing exciting to fill you in on.”
“I wasn’t expecting anything,” replied Mel. “Should just be the standard gig. We’ll just have a soft shadow presence. How was she?”
“She seemed very enthusiastic about coming on board. But my god is she young though. She looks all of 20.”
“Well I’m afraid I know nothing about the Ecuadorian Navy”, Mel responded, “Chief?”
The usually quiet but very knowledgeable dirty blonde chief gently shrugged her shoulders.
“Well in any case, I don’t see any reason to go about this any differently. The crew will do us all proud just as they always have. Ensign Young will greet her at 0500 on the quarterdeck with Petty Officer Dunn,” continued Teresa. “OK then, chow is set for 0630 with our guest. Let’s turn in. Good evening ladies.”


The rain had continued, much to Gina’s displeasure. She had never been fond of the required correspondence related to her secret life in the first place. Pouring rain at 3 am added to the discomfort. Gina silently cursed trying unsuccessfully to dodge the small puddles of water that had formed in the street. It was only a narrow street she had to cross but she found herself nearly soaked as she slid into the passenger’s seat of the Lincoln Town Car. A driver sat in the darkness, silently anonymous. Gina wiped away the water from her face as she stared straight forward through the car’s windshield.
“I don’t think I have to tell you that this affair is top level,” a soft female voice said from the back seat. “This spook of yours worries us. What is the name? Fantasma?”
“I don’t know the name,” Gina answered. “I call her Fantasma. It’s Spanish or Portuguese for phantom. Word is she is Brazilian. That’s all there is to it.” Gina spoke the truth. She knew very little of this illusive woman, if she was a woman at all. What Gina had never revealed was that her only dialogue with Fantasma was through internet porn sites and an occasional oddly coded message to her secured on board car computer. As far as she knew Fantasma was untraceable.
“Two of my agents delivered the take and instructions to her yesterday. She took a suitcase full of money and left my girls tied, gagged and blindfolded in their underwear. That’s a calling card of sorts, her way of accepting the mission.”
“Very Israeli I think,” commented the voice from the back seat, “any connections?”
“I have told you all I know of her identity. For all I know she was never in Washington. I am sure it was her. I know the MO.”
“The MO?” asked the mysterious voice.
“Yes the MO… her ways… It was her. The only time I have ever been close to her, I woke up in a nasty motel tied up, gagged and blindfolded… In my thong and bra!!! IT’S HER!!!”
Gina inhaled deeply before continuing. “The operation is already underway. Somewhere in metro L.A. at this instant there is a young Ecuadorian Naval Officer being held against her will. Probably bound and gagged, probably stripped to her underwear.”
“You are certain.”
“One hundred percent” Gina’s voice began to rise once more.
“Again this is top level, so I am sure you understand when I ask, how do you know?”
“When it’s her, I get one of these.” Gina nearly whispered.
Gina pulled a folded 8 ½ x 11 inch piece of ordinary plain paper from the inside of her coat. In one smooth motion she handed it to the woman behind her, over her shoulder.
“Good night,” sounded the voice handing it back.
Gina stepped back into the rain, crossed the street and climbed back into her BMW. Before she started the car, she breathed deeply a few breaths and looked down at the picture. It was her in the photo. She was seated in a cheap motel room chair. Her arms were tied behind her back. Her legs were lashed together at the ankles. She was tightly cleave gagged and blindfolded with white cloth. She wore only a sheer rose pedal pink bra and stringy hot pink thong. She folded the picture, tucked it into her coat and turned the key.


In the stale air of a Long Beach basement, Lieutenant Corrales was half asleep, still bound and gagged in her underwear when the sound of a door slamming shocked her into full consciousness. For a split second, the young officer dreamed of rescue. Her hopes completely vanished as she realized it was her captors. They were not alone. Sophia’s solitude in captivity was over. She was to be joined by three young women. The first had straight blonde hair and looked to be about 20. Like Sophia she was bound and gagged. The only clothing she wore was a lacy maroon bra and g-string. The other women did not look much older, 22 or 23 at the most. One had long wavy black hair and wore only chocolate brown cheeky shorts and bra to match. The other had cropped hair streaked blonde and brown. She had been stripped as well, clad only in royal blue bikini panties with a black lace pattern and a black bra. It would be days before Sophia learned that these women were the crew of one of the water taxis contracted to ferry sailors between ship and shore.

The usually quite Master Chief Andrews stormed from the quarterdeck of the USS Equality. She had not used foul language in years but felt compelled to do just that at the moment. “This is not good,” she angrily mumbled. The chief had gone up to check on Ensign Young and Petty Officer Dunn, anticipating a report on the arrival of the ship’s visitor. Neither was present. For that matter the entire area was completely vacant, not a soul to be seen.” There will be hell” ran through her head as she barreled down the passage way towards the officer’s quarters. Reaching the hatch to Commander Rawlins’ quarters, she roared “we have a problem skipper!” The door opened slowly.
“HOLY ****!!!” was all the Chief got out.
“Oh you have a problem alright,” was the slightly sarcastic response.
Chief Andrews froze in shock as she took in the occupants of the compartment. There were two women dressed neck to toe in black. Both held sub machine guns. One of these weapons was pressed firmly against the right cheek of the bound, gagged and completely nude Commander Rawlins, to her left the equally restrained and naked Commander Atkins. The women the Chief had intended to meet on the quarterdeck were present as well. 23 year old Ensign Allison Young’s uniform was missing leaving the terrified woman in white string bikini panties and an equally scant matching bra. Ensign Young’s 20 year old brunette “A” duty stood beside her, wearing nothing save smooth cotton lavender bikini panties and dark blue bra. Both of the sailors from the quarterdeck were bound and gagged. Each was also perched upon small step stools. Nooses encircled their necks and were tied off overhead.
“Come on in Chief,” invited the intruder.
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Conclusion

In stunned silence and with no options the senior enlisted member of the ship entered her commander’s state room.

“Close the door and lock it please,” calmly stated one of the gun toting captors.

Chief Andrews remained silent while complying. Very inconspicuously, she began taking in the details of the situation. One of her first thoughts was striking. The aggressors were young… and beautiful. The women were both of Caucasian heritage but with bronzed skin, one blonde the other a light brunette. Neither woman appeared to be over 25. Had the situation not been so grave, it may have seemed comical. These “terrorists”, these women of extremely bold action, appeared better suited for a sorority initiation. The Chief quickly determined that the weapon pressed to her skipper’s cheek was a Heckler and Koch MP7, a very expensive and extremely lethal piece of hardware. Whatever the agenda, it was certain that these antagonists were not a couple of angry seal huggers.

“Have a seat,” continued the blonde, the apparent leader of the two.

Slowly, Chief Andrews made her way to the rear of the cabin, her arms raised at head level as a gesture of cooperation.

Blondie spoke once more as the battle utilities attired Chief slowly lowered herself onto the Commander’s bed.

“Good news and bad news sailor. Most people prefer the bad first. You mam are my hostage. Your little operation will continue but not as planned. Prepare yourself for an uncomfortable future.”
“The Good news is that the fate of these brave sea warriors is in your hands. You help us and everyone walks off this rust bucket alive. On the other hand…”

Very suddenly and with moderate force, Blondie spun Cmdr. Rawlins 180 degrees to face her ship’s Chief. The stubby barrel of her weapon slowly moved downward to the bare breasts of her captive.

The Chief watched, containing her disgust as the working end of the MP7 pressed gently against the light brown skin of her captain’s medium sized left nipple. The taunting continued as after several small encircling motions, the barrels tip was gradually lowered to the terrified captive’s muff. The circular motions now bordering a coin sized patch of hair 3/4 of an inch above the commander’s intimate parts.

An eerie and sinister smile formed on the face of the gun wielding and now apparently psychotic woman.

“Heroics are not in order chief. The ships munitions are enough to take the ship down. One unwelcome move or comment and we are all going swimming.”

As Blondie continued she motioned with her head to a moderately sized monitor mounted on the wall. “In case you are wondering.”

The screen came to life. As the image materialized, the Chief released a clearly audible sigh. The scene was a video profile from the quarters of Cmdr. Rawlins’ Marine Security Force. The image was slowly panning and quite alarming. Staff Sergeant Littleton twisted about in a back arching hogtie. Chief Andrews was able to see that the Marine was restrained with heavy zip ties. The lower half of her face was completely covered with olive green duct tape, wrapped tightly around her head. She wore only khaki bikini briefs and a black sports bra. The pan continued, demonstrating equal peril for the other 6 members. Two of the detail’s Non-commissioned Officers stood back to back having been secured to a vertical support beam. The very young Latina Corporal Monica Morales wore only red and yellow flower patterned bikini panties and a red bra. She was accompanied by the fair and brunette Corporal Natalie McMillen. Like the others, McMillen had been stripped down and struggled slightly in forest green hipster panties, her bare breasts slightly swaying with her lateral movements. The other four Marines were paired off sitting on separate bunks. Each was tightly restrained hand and foot and scantily dressed in various types of underwear. All of the junior Marines were gagged in the same manner as their superior.

The feed jerked violently then quickly focused on the crazed face of a third assailant. In a very abrupt and shocking outburst the red headed woman chanted a short foreign phrase. Chief Andrews did not know the language but guessed that it was Slavic.

The screen went black.

The Chiefs attention shifted back to her blonde captor. As expected, she finished.

“There is an Ecuadorian guest on board. She is with the ship’s 3rd officer as we speak. You may find her appearance to be nonthreatening. I advise that you not test her. There are more than a few lives depending on your ability to project a normal planned routine.”

“Oh… more good news… you get to keep your clothes on.”


With the nervous but calm cooperation of Chief Andrews, the first day of the exercise was executed flawlessly. The evaluation related to the performance of the Equality did not turn south until the second day.

The entire crew was shocked an hour after nightfall, when the very humble Ecuadorian produced a high quality assault rifle and proved not so humble. Threats involving the current captives coupled with persuasion from Chief Andrews allowed the intruders to take the rest of the crew in short order.

From the perspective of the outside world there was no indication of trouble until the following morning. The equality sat anchored and motionless while the other ships positioned themselves for the next day. It became very clear to all involved that there was a serious issue with the Equality when all attempts to communicate went unanswered. A close pass from a Columbian frigate verified the dire circumstance. The Columbians reported 2 nude women postured at the front edge of the ship’s 57 millimeter main battle gun. The report stated that the women appeared to be tied by the wrists to the elevated barrel of the massive weapon. The Columbians were ordered to continue the pass. The command group and observation element ashore frantically went about arranging a rescue team.

In very quick order a U.S. Coast Guard Cutter responded. The events that unfolded in the next hour were unprecedented. The rescue team encountered no resistance. The women spotted on the foredeck turned out to be the ship’s commander and her executive officer. They were in fact tied at the wrists to the gun’s barrel as well as at the ankles. Each officer had also had to endure cruel gags, tight tape wrapped around their heads. The tape held two pairs of panties firmly stuffed into each mouth.

As reported by the Columbians, the pair was completely naked. The rest of the crew was found at various points of the vessel, the majority in the large cargo space. All of the crew had been left bound and gagged in inescapable fashion. The officers had all been stripped nude while the rest were found in their underwear. One of the last women discovered was Master Chief Gail Andrews strictly hogtied and gagged in black bra and briefs. There was no sign of those responsible.


In the rainy Washington DC mid-morning, Gina Lawrence watched the events unfold on one of the many big screens situated throughout the pentagon. Excusing herself quietly from the stunned group, she made her way back to the office housing the secure communication net that she had utilized many times while in performance of her unofficial duties. Working quickly she easily found what she had come for, a simple message from a mysterious source. ACABADO PARA SEMPRE. TCHAU. Finished forever. Goodbye. The message was accompanied by an embarrassing reminder. The picture of a younger and nearly nude Gina, bound, gagged and blindfolded in that seedy hotel room.

THE END

Casting for Battle Plan...

Gina Lawrence.
A slightly younger Mariska Hargitay

Teniente De Fragata or Lieutenant Junior Grade Sophia Corrales.
Naya Rivera

Commander Teresa Rawlins.
Annabeth Gish

Commander Melanie "Mel" Atkins.
Gillian Anderson

Staff Sergeant Erica Littleton.
A much younger Marguerite MacIntyre

Water Taxi Crew.
Blond...
AnnaSophia Robb

Wavy Brunette...
Vanessa Marano

Cropped and streaked...
Emma Watson

Corporal Monica Morales.
Christian Serrato

Corporal Natalie McMillen.
Nina Dobrev

Ensign Allison Young
Lily Collins

Petty Officer Dunn.
Claire Holt

And finally Master Chief Gail Andrews.
CNN Headline News Financial Reporter
Jennifer Westhoven

Thanks so much again. The Pleasure was mine!!!