The plough girl - part ten
By Diana the Valkyrie
Death in the brothel

I arrived in Druzhetsk. There were Russians a-plenty, I was going
to be spoilt for choice. But first, I needed camouflage. I visited
a bar near the HQ, saw that there were lot of Russian officers
drinking there, and I applied for a job as barmaid. I was wearing
my long black gown, and I leaned forward as I spoke to the boss;
I got the job. That let me mingle with the officers, and choose my
first victim. He was a major.

I brought him his drinks, and waggled my breasts at him. He noticed.
I brought him a snack of potato pancakes, and asked him if he liked
what he saw. "Da," he said enthusiastically, and asked me when I went
off duty. "I've got my UAZ outside," he boasted. That's like a jeep.
So I agreed to meet him after my shift.

We got into his UAZ, and he drove to a quiet place, outside the city
and near a forest. "Perfect," I thought, and he parked and turned
to me.  "Pull your skirt off," he ordered. Meekly, I obeyed. It
was too dark for him to be able to see the size of my thighs, and I
swivelled on the seat and put my legs on either side of his body. He
pulled off his trousers and levered himself up. I linked my ankles,
and straightened my legs. Of course, his body was between my legs,
so they encountered a bit of resistance. Not much, though.

He died when his ribs collapsed and penetrated his internal organs.
He bled internally, copiously, and died silently.

To obscure the cause of death, I pulled him out of the UAZ and lay
him on the ground. Then I lifted the side of the UAZ which was quite
heavy at about four thousand pounds, and rolled it on top of him,
so it looked like he'd been crushed by the vehicle. I retrieved my
skirt, wiped any fingerprints off the side of the UAZ, and walked
back to Druzhetsk.

I don't think they suspected anything. I was flying below their
radar.  And I went into the bar the next day, as if nothing had
happened.

I repeated the process a couple more times, and then I decided it
was time to move on, before anyone came up with the idea that a
tall blonde might be involved.

The next place I went to was Smuliv. I'd heard that there was a
stores depot there, and I thought that would be a good target. When I
got there, the place was humming - and lots of big trucks and tankers
were passing through, heading north to the depot. So I hitched a
lift on one of them. They aren't supposed to pick up hitch-hikers,
for obvious reasons, but a tall blonde with big tits was too much
of a temptation.

I chatted with the driver in Russian as we trundled along. He told
me about his wife and kids, and how much he missed them; I told
him that I was a teacher.

When we got near to the depot, he told me, regretfully, that I'd
have to get off the truck, because he wasn't allowed ... I told
him that I completely understood, and that I was very grateful
for him taking me this far, and I wanted to at least give him a
kiss. He leaned towards me, I leaned towards him, took his head in
my hands and gave it a sharp twist, wringing his neck like a chicken.
He was dead before he knew what was happening.

I swapped places with him. I blessed Mike who had taught me how
to drive, started the engine, put the truck in gear, and rolled on
towards the depot. I soon got there; it was guarded by two guys with
rifles and a wire fence. I mowed one of them down with the truck,
and ignored the other one who was frantically making a phone call,
and I headed for a pile of oil drums. I put my foot hard down, the
truck was doing fifty kph when it hit the oil drums, but I jumped
off just before that happened.

There was a satisfying explosion when one of the oil drums went up,
another when the the fuel in the truck caught, and then the fire
spread to the other oil drums, a raging inferno, which quickly spread
to the big storage tanks nearby, which blew up scattering burning
oil all over the depot. And some of it hit the storage warehouses,
which started burning merrily, and then it must have reached the
ammo storage, because there was a huge, deafening explosion, and
a big cloud of smoke rose into the sky.

The fence was wire-link, and was obviously designed to keep saboteurs
out, but it was no match for a determined plough girl; I just ripped
it apart and ran like all the hounds of hell were chasing me.

I ran until I got into some forest, and then I stopped, hid,
and got my breath back. This destruction must have been worth
a dozen officers, and I guessed that a lot of Russians would be
court-martialled for negligence in the wake of this disaster. So I
lay there, closed my eyes, and slept, because until I got far away,
I was going to move by night and rest by day. Such is the life of
a wanted plough girl.

Two weeks later, I was a couple of hundred miles away, and I had
dyed my hair to a mousy brown colour. I couldn't do anything about
my height, but if they were looking for a blonde, that wasn't me. I
sought out a bar that the Russian officers favoured, and got myself
a job there as a waitress.






Read the full story at http://www.amysconquest.com