Juniper’s Daughter:
The Final War by Nick Armbrister
It was celebration
time; this was Captain Cocksucker’s idea for his men to have a festive event
and his revenge on Sarah for the nuke trick that cost him so dearly. Fifty good
men and half a dozen vehicles lost. A room was set-aside for the party, large
enough to hold the entire garrison of 300 men, at the vehicle garage where it
was a tight fit but that’s how he liked it. Vehicles were moved onto the parade
ground, chairs brought in for seating, a military band hastily put together to
do songs titled “Fuck me all at once,” “I’ll be as slack as a whore” and “All
at once boys”.
On the question of protection? Not guns or
soldiers but Durex, hundreds were needed so his soldiers wouldn’t complain of a
sloppy pussy. Cocksucker knew Sarah’s pussy very well now and she had no STDs
but he wanted it done professionally. His room was sorted, the band was ready,
food and beer provided by top English army chefs – the favourite of chicken
tikka, kebabs, chips and gravy, marmite sandwiches, Lancashire hotpot and
Eccles cakes. Beer was brand new English army beer made just for them. Not one
bottle was out of date.
Soldiers filed into the hall in an orderly
manner wearing shirtsleeves with combat trousers. Sarah was brought in after
being ordered to shower, personally administrated by Cocksucker, she under
gunpoint from two soldiers. He spent extra time cleaning her pussy. She was
given a nice little red number to wear showing plenty of leg up to her ass, low
cut with ample cleavage and bare shoulders. Her long brown hair was neatly tied
back giving her a real lady like look, very sexy. She didn’t need underwear. On
her feet she wore a pair of stiletto shoes, which she struggled to walk in and
forcing her to hold Cocksucker’s hand. Two armed troops accompanied them onto
the stage.
He wore his famous pink summer dress which
was daringly short, all his men cheered and stood to clap and the noise filled
the huge building like a concert encore from back in the day when the world was
normal.
Sarah saw all of the men and thought what
the fuck? This motherfucker was very serious!
Cocksucker reassured her, this was a social
event and she was the leisure centre to be used by his troops, she would make
love to them all, over 300 in total. She had said fuck you and your army.
She didn’t believe this cunts cunningness,
seeing all this changed her view. She had no doubt at all; Cocksucker was
serious of sexually erotic subterfuge. Why shoot her for the nuke trick when
everyone could fuck her instead? This was the 21st century, not the
dark ages.
Cocksucker led Sarah to a massive super king
size bed 7ft by 7ft, here he would fuck her while a soldier filmed the event
for posterity, he went first as he was in charge. She climbed onto the bed; her
skirt rose up past her thighs to her ass and pussy. Cocksucker got his cock out
and slowly made love to Sarah, his men cheered and clapped.
Sarah moved with his rhythm, loving it, to
show them all she enjoyed every thrust, by this mindset she told them she
couldn’t be broken, that it was only sex. She had fucked 4 men before, what was
an extra 300? She was a willing participant in this macabre act; the band
played “Lets all fuck together,” when Cocksucker’s cock thrust in and out of
Sarah’s nice pussy. She moved with him in perfect timing, coming as he did.
He didn’t stop but continued for ten more
minutes and came a second time. Withdrawing, he removed his condom and threw it
into the crowd, signalling for the second soldier to mount Sarah. A line of
anxious randy men formed, bulges with in their trousers. Cocksucker loved it,
he drank it all in, his pink dress adding to the gaiety of the event and he
wore his size ten English army boots with long black Mia socks stolen from
Albanian communist/socialist military elements in 1996 but no tights, an odd
combination.
Sarah fucked the soldiers on her back, now
and again sitting up for a drink of beer. She was happy this wasn’t too bad.
Her pussy was a bit sore by the time she reached the halfway mark; a soldier
gave her some Lube 2000 and antiseptic cream for redness and soreness. She
would do the full 300 or it was bullet time, in the back of her shapely head. Slowly
but surely she did it, making love to a full army base of tough soldiers. She
made love to 304; she was the girl who fucked the English army. In her head she
knew she would really fuck them all later, she promised herself this. Rising up
from the bed she smiled and waved before collapsing to oblivion. That bit was
finally over.
In the days following the event where Sarah
was raped, she was allowed three days to recover, get fed and watered, bathed and
allowed to regain her strength, all under supervision of Captain Alun Cook. On
the fourth day she was interrogated on freedom fighter secrets, set up,
networks, on the structure during the civil war with Wales and Scotland, how
many members were alive, the number willing to fight and what training and
weapons they had. From her questions Sarah guessed something big was going to
happen if not already, was Oldham a blue print for other strong holds? She knew
it was. She wasn’t questioned under the truth drug at first; she cunningly lied
and gave answers on fighter strength when it was a weakness and vice versa.
Cocksucker believed her at first but he
became suspicious when Sarah slipped up, one time, on the strength of fighters
in Ashton. The English army had attacked and took this town much like they had Oldham,
wiping out fifty or so freedom fighters present for only three dead of their
own.
Sarah was injected with more truth serum,
Cocksucker ranted and raved, he wouldn’t tolerate liars, he would get the truth
this time, then he would rape her and shoot her himself. She talked in a
rambling half dead voice, mental collapse held at bay by mind-altering drugs;
secrets flowed like red wine on desert sand.
There was one little problem from before?
How had she not mentioned the nuke? Did she know it was there? Was she stronger
than the drugs to hide it? No, she never knew of it. Cocksucker knew for a fact,
trusting his judgement in such situations. He demanded to know where her
remaining comrades in arms where hiding, who escaped from the attack, where
they would go? To Rochdale? It was the nearest large town just out of the
English army attack lines, the next to be attacked when sufficient troop
numbers were free to be moved up. He would kill them with his own bare hands,
after torturing them; he wanted to know where the nuke came from. He wanted his
own for attacking the Scots and then the Welsh. He wanted to be Commander of
the Mainland; he would be as ruthless as Adolf Hitler and as powerful as God.
Unless someone stopped him…
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