The Island By motif88 Part 1 The young native woman strode the circumference of the empty room, her pace calm, her movements almost ritualistic. She held a lighted taper in one slim fingered hand, it's flame preceeding her like a will-o-the- wisp, carefully lighting each wick as she passed, thick tallow candles standing at attention in their wall sconces. Lydia left the bustling town square when the clock tower showed ten minutes to three. She took a narrow street heading east, away from the waterfront, toward a small residential section that she'd rarely had occasion to visit. The crowd thinned appreciably as she strode toward her meeting, a tingle of anticipation raising goose bumps on her well tanned skin. A halo of yellow candle light made the room's polished hardwood floor glow mellowly. When the last candle had been lit the young woman discarded her taper and moved to the center of the empty room. To her left, thick black curtains hung over a pair of dormer windows, blotting out any hint of outside light. Before her the room's only door stood mutely, a wooden guardian made of hard imported oak and fringed with black iron. She looked down at the rapier lying at her feet and, with a small nod of satisfaction, began to disrobe. The houses lining the street became larger and more elegant as Lydia moved into the more prosperous section of Coromita. Most of the dwellings were at least two stories tall and all were constructed of imported stone and the finest of native hardwoods. Male slaves, both native and foreign, carried their owners in elaborate litters up and down the cobblestone street, wealthy merchants or plantation owners visiting their town homes. For the most part they ignored the single army officer walking through their domain, although Lydia noticed, not without a sense of satisfaction, the occasional look of fear in the eyes of a passing litter occupant. Eager to reach her destination, Lydia took little notice of passersby, her mind fixed on the woman she was going to fight. The young native woman's words of challenge rang sweetly in her ears as she strode along, making the blood rise in her veins and her palms itch maddeningly. In her mind's eye she saw the native girl's gorgeous figure, the defiant stance she'd taken that had made her seem almost unbearably sexy as she'd hurled her challenge into Lydia's astonished face, and the slender officer's stride quickened. The dark haired woman hooked her thumbs beneath the straps of her plain white cotton dress and pulled them from her elegant olive skinned shoulders. The dress slid down to expose the smooth expanse of her chest, it's fall arrested at the round tops of her full breasts by the thrusting nubs of their dark nipples. With a tug the dress fell to her waist, revealing a long sleek torso. Perfectly round dark nipples capped a pair of youthfully ripe breasts, twin mounds of soft brown flesh swelling firmly above the ridges of her rib cage, her belly a shallow bowl with an oval navel at it's center. Moving her hands to the folds of cloth gathered about her trim waist, the young native woman pushed the dress down over flaring hips and past the high round hillocks of her youthfully taut buttocks. At last the dress fell freely, whispering down dual lengths shapely, well toned legs. She kicked the dress into a corner of the room, then gracefully bent down to scoop up a basket hilted rapier lying at her feet. Lydia examined the elegant two story manse, a solidly built half- timbered affair firmly anchored in the loamy island soil on a stone foundation. Unlike most of the houses in the area, there was no plaque announcing the owner's name and family, no hint at all to indicate that anyone even lived there. A frown creased the slender officer's thin lips, a feeling of wrongness tugging at the back of her mind, competing with the gently rising tide of bloodlust welling up within her. A minute passed, then another as Lydia stood gazing intently at the house's blank face, but the dwelling gave up no clue to her searching blue-green eyes. The memory of the young native girl's exotically beautiful face, flushed with anger and defiance, tipped the scales of Lydia's indecision and with a shrug she marched up the short walk toward the house. ------------------ The lowering sun cast it's red tinged light over the group of native women moving down the field, making their brown bodies glow softly beneath a sheen of sweat as they planted the last of their seeds. From the bed of the wagon that had brought them to the recently plowed ground, two overseers kept a watchful eye on the half naked slave women, rifles cradled in their arms, thick leather whips coiled at their hips. A low chant rose from the field workers as they moved slowly down the furrows, poking holes in the rich black earth, pushing a few seeds in the hole, then scuffing dirt over the hole and taking a pace forward to repeat the process. A sudden silence descended on the surrounding forest that cast it's long shadows over the field, but the slave women kept up their pace without pause. One of the overseers, an short brunette woman with a blocky muscular frame and large sloping breasts, had just begun to scan the encircling trees with suspicious eyes when an arrow whistled out of the forest, striking her squarely between the shoulders. She looked down in puzzlement at the blood smeared shaft protruding from the deep cleft between her pale pillowy breasts, then turned to her stunned companion, a thin hatchet faced woman with short red hair. The stricken woman's thick lipped mouth gaped as if to comment on this sudden turn of events, but before she could utter a word the light went out of her eyes and she pitched forward into the wagonbed. The red haired overseer jolted to her feet, large green eyes alight with panic. She spun around wildly and fired her musket into the silent forest, the deep green shade swallowing her shot without comment. Anxiously she scanned the trees for a target while she fumbled a paper wrapped cartridge from her belt. She'd just bit off one end of the cylinder and had begun to pour the powder and shot down her rifle's muzzle when a pair of women ghosted out the forest, brown bodies naked beneath stripes of black and white paint, short recurve bows held ready in their hands. Frantically, the thin overseer continued to load her gun, but as she whipped the ramrod from it's housing along the barrel, her head snapped up at the scuff of approaching feet behind her. Two dozen native women moved to surround the wagon, seed bags discarded in the field, sharp sticks held ready in callused hands. With no time to prime her weapon, the lone overseer dropped the rifle, her hand darting to the whip at her side. She never made it. ---------------- Lydia's breath caught in her throat at the sight of her opponent. Fine, chestnut brown hair fell in a luxurious sweep from a high unlined brow to curl about her square delicate shoulders, the candle light reflecting red highlights amidst the dark brown mass. Dark almond shaped eyes stared bewitchingly from a perfectly symmetrical oval face, accentuated by thin arching eyebrows and long lashes. The plains of her high rounded cheekbones bracketed a long, slightly flaring nose and small mobile mouth. Sensuous dark red lips frowned prettily at her enemy, and Lydia could almost feel the young woman's full, teasing lower lip between her own. The door closed unnoticed behind Lydia, her attention riveted on the nude, armed young woman. She stood confidently in the center of the empty room, her bearing proud, almost regal. Lydia drank in every detail of her foe's gloriously naked body, her blue-green eyes caressing the smooth compact muscle lurking beneath her adversary's flawless olive colored skin, gliding lovingly over the exquisitely sensuous curves of her breasts and belly, hips and thighs. She stood with her left foot slightly forward and her right arm cocked, holding the sharp bright length of her rapier at a downward angle across her body, it's blade a scant inch from the thick mat of dark brown curls obscuring the prominent ridges of her nether lips. Wordlessly, Lydia took a step toward her enemy and unbuckled her sword belt, letting it fall from her slim flanks to the hardwood floor. It made a startlingly loud clack in the empty room, but the young woman appeared completely unmoved by the noise. Keeping her gaze locked with her foe's blank stare, Lydia unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it from her strong shoulders, revealing hard battle tested muscle running beneath well tanned skin. Her small pink nippled breasts jutted firmly from her chest, already aroused and buoyant with anticipation. Ridges of abdominal muscle marched down her flat stomach to a trim waist and narrow hips. Her boots and trousers soon joined the growing pile of clothing, revealing hard flanks on either side of a groin shaved smooth, flat tight buttocks and a pair of strong legs, well defined muscle bulging beneath well tanned skin. Lydia crouched to retrieve her sword from it's scabbard, then stood and took another step forward, her sharp green eyes again focused on her exotically beautiful foe. "I'm going to kill you now, girl." she said, a simple statement of fact, and the young native woman's voice, a low mellifluous alto, sent a shiver of pleasure rippling through her naked body. "You're going to try." -------------------- The young Caucasion girl's pale nimble fingers flew over the keyboard, drawing music from the black and white notes on the paper before her. She held her seventeen year old body ramrod straight on the piano bench, her slender back rigid beneath a short yellow sundress. Curly honey blond hair was piled carelessly atop her head, framing a pretty face intent on the sheet music, oblivious to the muffled shouts coming from beyond the broad windows of the conservatory. Her head bowed over the keyboard, intent on her practice, the young woman saw her chest explode almost before she felt the bullet slam into her back. A ragged, fist sized hole burst above the soft swells of her budding breasts, splattering the pages of her music with bright crimson dots. The blonde girl's head snapped up, her suddenly glazed blue eyes staring at new notes spattered across the paper in her own blood. Her hands briefly continued playing, making a jangling discordant music before her rigid back slumped and she slid bonelessly from the bench, dead before she hit the floor. Moments later an older woman burst into the room, her tall muscular frame clad in a torn white shirt, dusty brown leather trousers and riding boots. She clutched a bloody knife in one hand, the other splayed over a cut dripping blood down her side. Her face, already drawn in shock, gaped at the blood spattered corpse of her daughter, then moved with horrified slowness to the shattered window. A group of native women stood in the garden beyond, their black and white striped bodies illuminated by the setting sun's faltering light. Finally, she managed to draw a breath but before she could voice her terror, a volley of shots exploded from the group of slave women, shattering another pane of glass and one miniball struck the horrified woman squarely in the abdomen. The slug's impact slammed her to the floor, the knife she'd wrested from the slave that had attacked her flying from her grasp. Agony convulsed her muscular frame and a breathless shriek issued from the stricken woman as she clutched at her ruptured stomach. Spatters of blood stained the front of her shirt and began to pool beneath the dying woman. With an agonized grunt she managed to roll onto her side, her blood smeared mouth moving in voiceless protest. Before the life faded from her sharp blue eyes, eyes that had been so much like her daughters', the dying woman saw a half dozen screaming slave women hurling torches into the air, the fiery brands arcing toward the house like a proclamation. --------------------- Lydia's first thrust engaged her foe's blade low and outside and the young woman's parry brought their weapons back up to chest level. The dark haired girl immediately riposted, her thrust forcing her slightly shorter opponent back a step, and Lydia parried and riposted in turn. She took a high line attack that narrowly missed one thrusting brown breast and made her foe retreat a step back. She brought her sword back into line and the two women paused a moment, their first exchange a draw. A small smile flickered across Lydia's thin lips and she began to circle the young fighter, carefully examining her gorgeous opponent. She was an inch or two taller than Lydia, her movements smooth and practiced, her stance conservative, and she kept her posture relaxed and ready. The experienced blond officer made a series of experimental thrusts and feints as she circled, taking different lines and combinations, looking for a gap in her taller foe's defensive routine, but the young woman managed to beat back the simple attacks. The heat from the candles warmed the room as Lydia felt out her opponent and the lithe dark haired girl's flawless olive colored skin took on a light sheen of perspiration. Lydia's tongue darted across suddenly dry lips, her soft blue-green eyes glimmered in the candlelight as she admired her graceful adversary. A gentle glow formed in the pit of her stomach as she took in the fetching way her foe's flaring, womanly hips twitched as she maneuvered; the way her firm breasts bounced just once on her chest when she lunged despite their size. It was so much better than she'd imagined. -------------------- With a last gasping sob Lia wormed her way from beneath the two corpses and lay exhaustedly on the blood soaked ground. Disheveled and spattered with gore, the slender subaltern's uniform was tacky with sweat and blood as it clung to her battered frame. All about her lay the remnants of her small patrol, five corpses sprawling along the forest trail in various reposes of death. Her head ringing from the blow she'd taken, Lia pushed herself into a sitting position and gazed numbly at the dead women she'd crawled out from under. The body of a tall willowy redhead who'd once been private Angeline lay entwined with a naked black and white striped ambusher. The slain soldier's once sparkling amber eyes were open and glazed in death, her wry, humorous mouth twisted in a final grimace of agony. The dead rebel laying atop her was an older woman, thick bodied and heavy hipped, a gaping bullet wound between her shoulder blades. Her head lay peacefully on Angeline's stomach, one hand wrapped around the hilt of the thick bladed knife buried deep in the taller soldier's chest, the other still clawing one small breast. Lia couldn't remember the exact sequence of events, and could only surmise that the rebels who'd ambushed her patrol had neglected to make sure she was dead. She'd probably looked dead; half obscured by the dead women's bodies, her tunic slashed open and her slim torso drenched in blood that was not her's. They'd taken most of the weapons that were easily recoverable and Lia could only suppose that they must have been in a great hurry. A few yards away lay a trio of dead soldiers, slain by the ambusher's initial volley. Privates Magdala and Suzanne lay side by side, their heads so deformed by the impact of heavy musket balls that the only way Lia could tell their corpses apart was by the color of their gore streaked hair. Across their legs sprawled the bullet riddled corpse of subaltern Joline, her curvaceous brown body torn almost in half by a row of three ragged bullet wounds. Another naked warrior lay nearby, her slim painted body cured in a fetal position and Lia dimly recalled shooting the young ambusher in the stomach just before she'd been felled herself. Suppressing a shudder Lia steeled her nerves and glanced behind her. The last of her patrol lay on her back a few feet away, her lithe young body still contorted in it's final death throes. A white fletched arrow protruded from the Private Deena's lower abdomen and the young soldier's throat had been slashed open, a wash of crimson staining the front of her brown tunic. She still gripped the remains of her sword, it's blade having snapped off in the chest of a busty brunette rebel who lay just behind her. Subaltern Lia groaned and pushed herself to her feet. A small moan of disgust escaped her lips and her slim body trembled as she tried to wipe away the blood from her narrow chest and small, pointed breasts. A thick cloud of smoke wafted above the trees in the direction she'd been leading her patrol, a sure indication that the plantation she'd been headed for was even now burning. Pulling her torn tunic across her shivering frame, the exhausted, frightened soldier began making her way back to Coromita. ---------------- Lydia spun away from a lightning quick attack au fer and brought her blade back up to prime. She was breathing heavily but steadily, her slim sun bronzed body glowing with a healthy sheen of sweat. "Clever girl." she complimented her young opponent. "I wonder where you learned that!" The young woman had at first concealed her skill, letting Lydia grow confident on the attack as she parried and retreated, occasionally essaying a hesitant appearing lunge or clumsy redoublement. Then, after a particularly fierce exchange, she'd dropped onto one hand and nearly skewered the slender blond officer through the lower belly with a perfectly executed passata-sotto. Only a wild slashing parry had spared Lydia an almost certainly deadly wound. The lithe native girl replied with a silent smile and thereafter it was Lydia who was on the defensive, methodically parrying and dodging her opponent's assault. Her foe's blade swept through the air like a living thing, a sharp liquid sliver of steel flashing the candle light. Lydia deflected an array of well timed attacks as the dark haired girl continued her onslaught, probing Lydia's defenses for the slightest gap. Lydia parried a high line attack in octave and stepped back, letting her blade sag just a little to the outside, and was gratified when her foe immediately took the bait. The young native woman stamped forward, thrust and strongly riposted to force Lydia's sword down, then with a shout spun on one heel and launched a high snapping kick at her shorter foe's chest. But Lydia was prepared for the attack and slid aside, drawing her sword back in time to slash at her foe's shapely calf as she pulled back. The dark haired woman bit back a shriek of pain as her opponent's blade drew a long jagged line of fire down the back of her calf. She recovered in time to bat away a high leaping thrust that drove both their blades up above their heads, but before she could completely regain her balance, the experienced blond soldier stepped in close, engaging her corps-a-corps. With a gasp of surprise the young warrior staggered backwards, propelled by her foe's relentless advance. Their locked weapons poised above their heads, the blond officer forced her taller foe into a stumbling retreat until her back thumped jarringly against the wall. The young warrior's body shivered from the impact and her slightly shorter opponent stepped up close, her savagely grinning face a few tantalizing inches from the dark haired girl's own beautiful, strained visage. The blades rasped against each other, sweaty hands tightly gripped opposing wrists as the two naked women struggled, each trying to force the other to her knees. -------------- The two petite native girls held their larger pale skinned mistress beneath the water, vicious smiles pasted across their faces. Their victim thrashed and fought wildly, splashing scented bath water over the small room, but the two naked slaves straddling her rode with her violent struggles. At last the drowning woman's thrashing subsided, plump white fingers sliding from one girl's slender brown shoulders to scrabble weakly, pathetically at her small breasts before dropping lifelessly into the water. The two slaves kept their victim down until the water of the large sunken bath was once again placid. Then with a long, satisfied sigh the girl straddling the dead woman's chest turned to address her sister, who in turn straddled their former mistress' hips. "We did it!" Olahme breathed, grinning at her older sibling's face. Hulame smiled back at her fifteen year old sister, her larger, more mature breasts stiff and heaving on her chest. "We'd better get out of here." she averred breathlessly, standing up in the sudsy hip deep water. "Go get her weapons." Silently the two girls pulled themselves from the bath, their petite brown bodies shining beneath a sheath of jasmine scented water. Hulame padded to the door and listened intently while her younger sister moved to a tall armoire and began to search through their former mistress clothes. "Ooooooh." Olahme cooed. "Look at this!" She pulled a teal green brocade dress from the closet and draped the silk over her slender wet frame, posing coquettishly. "Olahme, stop fooling around!" Hulame hissed, waving one hand in a shooing motion at her sister. With a small moue the young woman cast aside the dress and returned to rooting around in the armoire, at last pulling a pair of finely wrought daggers from the cluttered closet. "We'll kill many of the foreign sluts with these." she crowed, displaying her find. Hulame turned and smiled fondly at her younger sibling. An intoxicating feeling of victory thrummed through her veins, making her feel strong and confident and a little light headed. "We'll slash their faces off and throw their bodies into the sea!" she enthused, taking a step toward her grinning sister. Olahme skipped lightly to the spot where Hulame stood, a bared dagger gleaming in each hand. The sisters embraced joyously, their coltish young bodies pressing softly together. Olahme's wide brown eyes slipped closed and she enjoyed the vaguely erotic sensation for her sister's slippery brown body, only a year older than herself, pressing against her. It always somehow felt like she were hugging herself. Hulame had just leaned back and opened her mouth to address her brightly smiling sibling when the door abruptly banged open. With her arms still around her sister's slim waist, she jerked her head around in time to see the anger twisted visage of a wounded soldier burst into the room and thrust with a blood smeared rapier. The slender girl's body jarred forward into her sister's arms, the furious soldier's blade plunging into her back. It entered slightly to the left of her spine, skewering her heart before bursting from her chest. Olahme shrieked as she felt her sister's body stiffen, watching in horror as the expression on Hulame's narrow, cat-like face turned from surprise to shock and finally slackened, a last breath escaping her soft lips as she died. The soldier yanked her sword from the naked girl's body and Olahme peered aghast over her sister's slumped shoulder at the blood gleaming on the enemy woman's blade, her sister's blood. "Hulame!" she gasped as her sister's sleek brown body slithered bonelessly from her embrace, landing with an ominously final thump on the floor. Too late, Olahme raised her weapons, horror and rage and sadness vying for dominance on her pretty round face. The wounded woman's sword flicked out, slashing across the naked girl's throat and blood gushed from the sudden wound, forming a dripping, crimson bib over Olahme's still wet chest and young budding breasts, turning her outraged howl into a choking gargle. The knives she'd held clanked to the floor as her hands sprang open and darted to her throat, her eye's shock wide and staring at her panting killer. Olahme's slim legs collapsed and she dropped to her knees, managing one last glare at the soldier. Sadness and hatred mingling in her pretty brown orbs, blood gurgled from her gaping mouth as she fell across her sister's corpse. The wounded soldier watched the young girl's death throes impassively. Small clenched fists beat the floor weakly, her petite frame twitching. Slim legs jerked slower and slower as the pool of blood flowing her wound grew until at last she lay still across her sister's corpse, their bodies forming an 'X' of tawny, blood spattered flesh on the white tile floor. With a noncommittal grunt the soldier surveyed the suddenly quiet bath, her gaze finally settling on the naked white form in the bath. The dead woman's body floated just beneath the water, large pale breasts sagging to either side of her chest, wide conical nipples stiffly breaking the surface like two pink islands in a calm sea. Curly bleach blond hair floated around her head, surrounding a lined, cruel looking face whose wide eyed expression was frozen in shock. The wounded soldier cursed beneath her breath, watching the corpse of the island's second governess-general slowly sink beneath the water. -------------- Lydia gritted her teeth and forced herself to concentrate on the duel. She was confident of her control now, despite her younger adversary's superior height and reach, but the musky scent of her opponent's sweat seemed to fill the room, invading her nostrils like an intoxicant and fueling the glowing fire that had been building in her lower belly ever since she'd first laid eyes on the gorgeous young creature. With a grunt she pushed their entwined arms up and took a half step forward, bringing her slender compact body closer to her voluptuous foe. The slender officer's small thrusting breasts brushed against her opponent's, their swollen pink nipples making twin dents in the tender undersides of her foe's larger brown breasts. Lydia stifled a groan at the sensation and gradually forced their arms down. She could feel the heat radiating from the young woman's trembling olive skinned body, stoking the fire in her belly until a pleasant glow suffused her tawny sweat soaked frame. With a groan of frustration the dark haired woman's head darted forward and Lydia's panting mouth was suddenly engulfed by soft pliant lips, her tongue gliding between her teeth. Lydia's reaction was instinctive and as uncontrollable as the tides. A deep groan of her own welled up from the aroused blond woman and she surged forward, the warm glow suffusing her aroused body igniting into a blaze as she forcefully returned the young woman's passionate kiss. Pain exploded through Lydia as the dark haired girl's teeth clamped down hard on her lower lip. Blood ran into her mouth as she yanked her head back reflexively and with a grunt her foe brought a foot stamping down on hard on the toes of her own right foot. Pain jolted up Lydia's leg while, with a vicious smile curving her flushed lips, the young warrior's head darted forward again, this time to slam her forehead into her stunned adversary's face. An outraged shriek escaped Lydia's gaping mouth as she reeled away, her mind spinning with sudden pain. Half stunned and completely off balance, Lydia fell to the floor and the back of her head bounced off the polished hard wood with a hollow thud. Her knuckles rapping painfully and her sword skittering away across the room as if it had decided to retreat without her. Through pain blurred eyes Lydia looked up at the gorgeous young woman towering triumphantly above her, the point of her sword aimed at her heaving chest. With a furious shriek Lydia scrambled backwards, letting out a yelp as her foe's sword slashed down across her exposed midriff. Her feet tangled with the young woman's shapely legs and Lydia felt a wrenching pain in one ankle as she yanked her foot free. Suddenly off balance, the dark haired girl fell back against the wall with a jarring thump, her own surprised shriek brutally cut off as the back of her head hit the solid wood paneling. Anger surged through Lydia's veins and she kicked out wildly at her foe. One foot missed completely but the other shot squarely into her opponent's wounded leg, knocking her feet out from under her and with a pain filled shriek the young woman fell gracelessly onto her side. Lydia curled her legs beneath her and pushed herself up on one arm, her mind awhirl with pain and rage. Her beautiful young foe's attack had taken her completely by surprise; she'd used her own lust against her and it was only blind luck that she was still alive. Hatefully she glared at the groaning dark haired girl lying a few feet away, her shapely body looking even more desirable as she lay on her side with her back still against the wall, her exotically beautiful face obscured by a wild sweaty tangle of hair. The wound her foe's sword had made throbbed distractedly and Lydia frowned down at the cut on her abdomen. The wound was long but shallow, a thin horizontal line just below the thrust her of small heaving breasts leaking rivulets of blood down her tawny sweat slick frame. "Motherless bitch!" Lydia swore, looking furiously back at her prostrate foe, "I'll have your eyes for that!" --------------- Flames lit the evening sky from dozens of burning buildings, sending sparks shooting heavenward and thick clouds of choking smoke rolling through the streets of Coromita. Dim figures chased each other through the haze, their howling screams counterpoint to the roaring fires, victorious rebel warriors raging through town. On the northern edge of town the military barracks were already a smoldering ruin. A few guardswomen lay dead at their posts, throats slashed by enemy knives. More charred bodies lay amidst the blackened roofless buildings, most slain in their sleep by smoke or burned to death trying to force doors barricaded by rebel hands. >From her hiding place behind a pile of empty crates, subaltern Lia watched the silhouettes of two native warriors back lit by the flames. They stood with their backs to her at the foot the harbor's longest pier, the only dock not currently on fire. A few dark shapes bobbed against the sides of the wooden pier, mostly single masted fishing boats, the only avenue of escape left on the island. The slender subaltern sagged against the crates, her dirty, soot blackened frame numb with exhaustion. The torn shreds of her uniform clung to her battered body and strands of short black hair were plastered to her angular face with dried sweat and blood. It had been a long, tension filled trek from the jungle trail where her patrol had been wiped out. Night was falling as Lia skirted the flaming barracks, covering her ears to blot out the screams of the dying solders. She'd raced through the crowds mobbing the panic stricken streets of the small town and nowhere had she seen another soldier until she'd come upon the town square. A row of brown uniformed women hung from the second story of Coromita's town hall, their bodies hacked and bloody, savaged by rebellious natives. Half crazed with terror Lia had ran from the slaughter, her mind whirling at the sight of her brutalized comrades. Buildings blazed behind her as she raced blindly through the streets as if she were being chased by a fiery native demon intent on obliterating her and every other invader from the island. Somewhere along the way she'd picked up a short, thick bladed knife and she had the vague impression of a surprised young face, blood welling from a deep wound between a pair of small black and white striped breasts, a pair of slim legs kicking weakly at the dusty ground. Lia stifled a groan and ran a hand over her face. She could see dark shapes moving on the water out to see, sails blotting out the early evening stars, merchant ships whose captains had been alert enough to escape the towns destruction. Lia's grip tightened on her blood stained knife, peering intently at the silhouettes of the two native women. If she could only get to one of the small boats and row it out to a ship, she could escape the madness engulfing the town behind her. The taller woman leaned on a long, sharp pointed spear, smudged paint covering her naked, skinny back. She was chatting amiably with her comrade, a slim, youthful looking warrior whose large pear shaped breasts jutted improbably from a too narrow chest. Lia steeled herself, summoning up every last bit of will in her desperately tired body, and slowly moved away from her hiding place. The tall woman jarred forward with a choking scream, twin spurts of blood shooting from either end of the knife splitting her long, elegant neck. Her smaller companion spun around and Lia charged into the stunned young woman, ramming a fist into the soft round hillock of her striped tummy. The young warrior gaged and doubled over and Lia's elbow cracked down on the back of her exposed head, dropping her to the wooden planks of the dock like a felled ox. A soft bubbling moan arose from the tall woman as she dragged her lanky frame across the wooden slats. Lia watched the dying woman, a strange calmness suffusing her tired body. The dying warrior's back muscles stood out sharply beneath the smeared black and white paint as she crawled and, after a last violent shudder, she finally collapsed. Lia stood stock still for a moment, the sound of her heart thudding in her chest filling her ears. The violent fight had taken only a few short seconds and suddenly she was free to take any of the boats she wanted. Safety was only a few oar strokes away. Sudden elation filled the exhausted, battered subaltern, lending her new energy and with a last glance back at the burning town, Lia strode purposefully down the pier, her boots thumping steadily on the wooden planks. A giant fist struck the slender soldier hard in the back and bright, blinding agony filled her narrow chest. The force spun Lia in a half circle, but somehow she managed stay on her feet despite the pain ripping through her body. The echoes of a thundering blast rang in her ears as she dropped her shock wide gaze from the back lit figure that stood at the end of the dock down to her chest, and her pretty, sharply angled eyes widened even further as she gazed at the blood streaming from the ragged hole on the left side of her chest. Lia looked up again as the woman who'd just shot her lowered her rifle and began walking toward her, firelight glinting redly from the weapon's bayonet. She felt the strength drain from her body like water swirling from a sink, leaving her helpless and barely able to stand. At last her killer stepped into a patch of light and the horribly wounded subaltern's head began to shake slowly in denial. Lia managed to utter a single accusing word, her voice filled with pain and complete shock, before the light left her disbelieving eyes. "Traitor." -------------- When the end of the duel came, it was very sudden. The young warrior came to with a start, slashing the empty air before her with her sword just as Lydia was about to pounce. The blond officer flinched away from her foe's flash blade and scrambled backwards, a snarl of pure animal hatred deforming her sweaty face as her beautiful adversary pushed her back against the wall and forced herself up on her gorgeously sculpted but still wobbly legs. Lydia flashed an angry glare at her dark haired foe and, forcing herself to her own feet, turned to limp toward the spot where her weapon lay. With sword in hand she turned to watch her opponent advance. The tall girl's flawless olive skin glowed with perspiration, adding gentle curves of candle light to her shapely body. She raised her free hand to brush long lengths of shining black hair that clung to her face and shoulders, revealing a determined, angry expression on her exotically beautiful face. Normally, the sight of a magnificent, disheveled young woman advancing on her with a sword in her hand would have excited Lydia intensely; aroused the throbbing sexual heat that had always accompanied her lust for battle. But the beautiful native warrior had broken the normal flow of her battle lust, inflaming the sweet aching fire coursing through her veins with a kiss, then abruptly dampening it with sudden life threatening pain. Lydia stood gingerly on the hard wood floor, grimacing at the pain shooting from her stomped foot. She noted with some satisfaction that her opponent favored her unwounded leg as she advanced and Lydia's spirits were buoyed by the fact that she had drawn first blood. Extending her sword firmly before her, she raised her free arm and turned her side to her opponent, challenging the young warrior with her eyes. Despite the pain from her wounded leg the dark haired girl raised herself up on the balls of her feet and closed with her foe. Dark fire flashed in her eyes as she lunged, her blade ringing against her opponent's parring blade. The slender officer's riposte forced her back a step and the young warrior parried three fast slashes aimed at her hips and belly, then with an upward sweep of her blade, feinted a return slash at her opponent's sweaty, snarling face and, while her foe's sword was still high, suddenly dropped to one knee and thrust hard at her exposed belly. Lydia stared down in disbelief at the blade buried in her stomach. The young warrior's sword seemed to vibrate as it extended from the taut plane of her belly to the young woman's hand. Lydia's own blade was frozen just an inch above her opponents, her parry arrested by the sudden agonizing pain. With a groan of denial, Lydia raised her head and looked at her opponent. "Who are you?" she gasped. Pulling herself up to her full height, the young warrior proudly replied. "Ypani, daughter of Mylyamaui, you butchering blond bitch!" With a grunt Ypani pulled her weapon from her foe's body and took a step back. The slender blond officer looked down aghast the blood welling from the small triangular wound to run down the muscular ridges of muscle lining her stomach, cutting a crimson track though the thick sheen of sweat sheathing her hip and slim left leg. A sickly smile creased the stricken soldier's thin lips as she looked up again and Ypani felt am almost sexual thrill course through her veins as she gazed into blue-green eyes shining with pain and despair. Lydia clutched her free hand to the deep, dripping puncture wound and took a staggering step back, beating away a sudden lunge from her young adversary. Her once strong, well muscled body thrummed with pain as she riposted, then tried a weak feint at one firm, bobbing brown breast. But instead of parrying the young warrior merely twisted her body to one side, her luscious red lips twisted in a contemptuous sneer, and lunged again, her blade speeding past Lydia's to plunge squarely into her right shoulder. Lydia reeled back as her shoulder exploded in agony, sending white hot rivulets of pain shooting through her slender frame. She stared a long moment at her opponent, fear and pain and longing melding into a baleful glare. Lydia tried to raise her sword but her rapidly numbing arm refused to respond and an uncontrollable tremor shook her sleekly muscled legs. A low growl of frustration escaped her clenched teeth as she fought with every last ounce of strength to stay erect, but at last Lydia's legs collapsed, sending her toppling backwards to the floor. An ecstatic grin broke out on the young queen's exotically beautiful face and she limped to her downed opponent's side. The blond woman was staring up at the ceiling, her blue-green eyes narrowed to pain filled slits, her brow knitted as if she didn't know how she'd gotten there and was trying to puzzle it out. Slowly, Ypani moved her blood smeared blade until it's sharp tip dented the soft tawny skin over her opponent's heart and was gratified when the wounded blond's gaze turned to her. "You...wouldn't dare." Lydia gasped out, glancing worriedly at the steel tip just inches from her rapidly beating heart. "They...they'd hang you..." "Oh, I don't think so." Ypani replied confidently. "As a matter of fact, you should've been hanged a long time ago, you murderous slut." Lydia opened her mouth to reply but her words were cut off by the sound of the room's door opening. She couldn't see the person approach, only hear the sound of boots clomping on the hard wood floor, but her eye's widened at the sight of a muscular ebony arm slipping around the dark haired girl's trim waist and a familiar face appearing over one sexy, square shoulder. "Almost finished, I see." Lydia's captain murmured into the delicate swirl Ypani's ear. Lydia's mind spun, unable to take in the implications of the sight. The tall, thickly muscled captain lightly nibbled the young queen's ear by way of greeting and Ypani sighed and turned her head, engaging the captain in a deep, soulful kiss. "What..." the wounded blond officer coughed, blood flecking her thin, flushed lips, "What..." The Captain broke her lip lock and looked down at her junior officer, a contented smile playing across her wide, generous mouth as her young lover continued to gently kissed her cheek and chin. "I see you've met my student." she smiled. "See how well I've taught her?" "But...but you killed...her mother!" Lydia accused, her voice reflecting the shock in her eyes. "Yes, she did." Ypani agreed, pausing to glance at her defeated adversary. "But mother was always too impatient, always moving her plans ahead too soon. And my Captain had a much better plan." "Don't look so surprised, Lydia." the Captain chided, moving her hand up to cup and lift one sweat shiny, youthfully ripe breast. "Which would you rather be? An anonymous officer, or the consort of a queen?" Ypani moaned at the older woman's touch and leaned back against her broad frame, engaging her in another long, lustful kiss. The captain's other hand appeared from behind Ypani's naked body and she brushed it across her smaller olive skinned sword hand, steadying her blade. The tall officer drew her lips down the sweet pulse of Ypani's outstretched neck and ran a callused thumb over the pebbly black surface of an already achingly stiff nipple, drawing a small gasp of pleasure from the aroused young woman. Lydia watched in astonishment from her vantage point on the floor below. Despite the pain engulfing her exhausted body she strained to lift her numb arm, trying to draw her sword up so that she could thrust it through their bodies and slash both of them to ribbons. A moan of frustration escaped her as her arm continued to fail to respond and agony swelled within her trembling body. Ypani's free hand moved to gently grasp the hand caressing the sensitive supple flesh her lush young breast. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, reveling in the twin feelings of lust and victory suffusing her voluptuous body, and guided her lover's hand down the slick flat plane her tautly stretched belly to the wet black muff covering her throbbing, engorged sex. Despite the pain, Lydia watched in growing fascination as Ypani widened her stance, spreading her gorgeous long legs farther apart to give her lover freer access. The young warrior moved her hand back up her gently trembling body to kneed her full, thrusting round breasts, slim fingers kneading pliant young flesh and pulling at thrusting, erect nipples. A thick finger slipped between her parted, achingly engorged nether lips and the moaning dark haired girl stiffened and surged upwards, her the silky glowing skin over her strong thighs quivering with impending ecstasy. "No...no..." Lydia protested as a second finger entered the trembling young woman's tight, throbbing sex. The two fingers gave a quick double pump, Ypani's shapely body shiver violently, her limbs stiffening as she simultaneously orgasmed and drove her blade into the woman lying supine at her feet. A long moment later the young queen's gorgeously sculpted body relaxed and sagged back against her lover and she stood flat footed on the floor. She gripped both her lovers strong black hands in her own, fingers entwined as the pressed against her stomach and sweetly throbbing groin. It took a minute for the Ypani to realize that she no longer held her sword, but a glance down at the naked blond woman lying at her feet solved that particular mystery. In her unknowing ecstasy, she and her lover had run her defeated foe clean through. Lydia Jane Wickham's sprawled, deathly still body lay in sticky pool of her own blood, her young opponent's sword protruding from her well muscled chest. It's basket hilt gently nodded up and down as if it's fleshy sheath agreed with it. The dead woman's free hand was a frozen claw, the fingers digging into the soft tan flesh of one small unmoving breast, while her sword hand still curled about the hilt of her bloody weapon. Lydia's glassy, lifeless eyes still stared up at the two women, her face contorted in a final look of agonized horror. The sight drew a grunt of approval from the Captain. "Well done." she murmured into Ypani's ear. "I though I'd never live to see that insane woman safely dead." With a sigh Ypani turned and threw her arms the big woman, pressing her suddenly exhausted body against her tall lover's strong, broad frame. She reveled in the familiar feel of the tall officer's body, then drew back and, taking the Captain's hand in own, turned to walk out into the fire lit night. XXX EPILOGUE: The revolt engineered by Queen Ypani and the renegade Captain completely annihilated the Imperial forces on the island. Word of the garrison's downfall did not get back to the Imperial capital for months after the event. Three years later the Empire sent two battalions of troops and a squadron of warships to take back in the island. Coromita was bombarded from sea and the following invasion, despite heavy imperial causalities, routed the native forces. Queen Ypani was killed and her consort/lover captured in a rear guard action that allowed a substantial number of her warriors to escape to nearby islands. The young queen was found amidst a heap of dead imperial soldiers, her body torn by a dozen bullet wounds. Though badly wounded, the rebellious captain was transported back to the Imperial capital where she was paraded through the streets before execution. Reportedly, her last act was to bite her executioner's lower lip off before she was killed. In the broader history of the Empire, the retaking of Coromita was to signal a drastic turn in imperial fortunes. Beset by numerous rebellions in her colonies and weakened by a major foreign war, the Empire had gradually reduced the island's garrison to less than a single battalion. Ten years to the day after reoccupying the island a large native force invaded Coromita and, in three days of fierce combat, massacred the imperial garrison to a woman. Unable to commit any more troops to retake the island, Coromita became the first colony to successfully throw off the imperial yoke.