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From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} R and R 1 {Thinking Horndog} (M+F M+f Ff FF M+M rape nc oral anal ScFi)
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Date: Sat, 16 Oct 2004 08:10:04 -0400
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A new story.  Part 1 of 6.


		
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<1st attachment, "R and R_1.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: R and R
Part: 1 of 6
Universe: R and R
Summary: A mercenary unit sets down on a backwater planet for a little
entertainment.

Keywords: M+F M+f Ff FF M+M rape nc oral anal ScFi

R and R

Copyright (C) 2004 The Thinking Horndog

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction for profit is
forbidden.  Any distribution must include this note and the author's email
address. Don't be caught attempting to make a buck off me!

Warnings and disclaimers:

This is adult entertainment!  Be warned!  If you're not into graphic
depictions of sex, this is the wrong story for you!  If you're too young to be
legally reading this, move along!

This is a work of fiction.  It is not intended to reflect any particular
person or persons, and the incidents portrayed exist in their current form
solely in the writer's imagination.  You get the idea.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

	The troopship Delaga hung in the void, alone.  The ship's current
mission was to conduct denial operations in the disputed area between the
Galaki Confederation and the self-styled Emperor Grot's New Empire, which was
using the low density of civilized worlds in this deep area of the first
spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy to infiltrate and overrun new territory.
The ship's 'cargo' was Rendec's Raiders, a free mercenary company under
contract to oppose landings by Grot's forces on local worlds...

	Unfortunately, things weren't going too well for the Galaki.  Some of
their hired troops (not the Raiders, notably -- they'd been in six skirmishes
in the last GSC, or Galactic Standard Cycle, and they'd done their job) had
proven to be not up to their advertising; the Galaki had lost a couple of
worlds and had had their trade routes pretty well chewed up.  This dumped on
the local economy, and created a balance of payments problem...

	"We have a negotiated contract!  I have troops to feed and arm -- and
more important, pay!" Captain Rendec ranted over the hyperwave communicator.
"We're doing our job, here!"

	The face of the Galaki liaison officer was sympathetic, but
noncommittal.  "That's why you'll continue to receive your basic mission
support supplies, Captain.    Those units with a history of failure have been
summarily dismissed -- we can't pay for troops who can't or won't do their
jobs.  Once our trade ships can get through to our neighbors again -- meaning
that you and your colleagues have done their jobs -- the Confederation will
follow through on all negotiated payments.  Until then, though, you need to
police your own ranks and get your less-effective colleagues in line and
pulling their weight!"

	"I'm not responsible for the fact that you went cheap and hired lousy
outfits!  And I can't fix your mistakes!  You get us fighting each other out
here, and you WILL be lost!" Rendec howled.

	"I certainly hope that will not be necessary," the liason huffed.
"One would hope that you are capable of dealing with one another
diplomatically..."

	"Those idiot Armag that Admiral Reflec posted on my left flank aren't
worth the energy pulse it would take to blow them to Entropy!" Rendec
complained.  "How am I supposed to hold MY sector when they just let the
Empire pour through?"

	The liaison's face froze.  "They are no longer in our employ," he
related, then assumed a poker face.  "I've been authorized to make a rather
substantial payment against your balance -- and theirs -- if you are
successful in rooting the Imperials out of the three forward bases they have
established in that sector -- while holding your own, of course..."

	Rendec raised an eyebrow.  "How substantial?"

	"Full pay for ninety DP (Diurnal Periods) for both your unit and the
Armag for each planet freed," the liaison replied.

	That might EVENTUALLY make the contract profitable -- IF the
Confederation lasted that long.  But he'd lose troops and equipment along the
way...  "Over and above the current contract?"

	"No.  Monies disbursed to you for your part will be against your
current balance.  However, the monies that would have gone to the Armag will
represent a bonus..."

	The bastards wanted him to grind his unit up trying to get even, with
the promise of MAYBE getting ahead, EVENTUALLY.  Still, it was what they
did...  "Give me the coordinates of known incursions," Rendec grunted, "And if
we find more, you pay for THEM, too!"

	"Certainly," came the fatuous reply, "But you will be required to
provide proof..."

	"Yeah, yeah...  Rendec out."  Rendec couldn't stand to look at the
greasy bastard for another minute.  Excuses, excuses.  If the Confederation
went down, he'd take his piece out of them before the Imperials did, and they
both knew it -- but looting was frowned upon just about everywhere civilized.
Meanwhile, Rendec needed supplies...

	"Cap'n..."  Top Kamicki came through the hatch, ducking to get his
brush cut through unscathed.  "More shit below decks.  Alegi and Doramus
started tryin' to pull each other apart.  Fortunately, there was a trank gun
handy."

	Rendec rolled his eyes.  He'd have to bust Doramus again -- kid
couldn't hang onto Corporal.  If he wasn't such a fine scout, he'd have to let
him go...  "What happened?"

	"Alegi went through his feelies and changed certain parameters --
Doramus found himself being cornholed by a transvestite in sim.  Shit went
south from there..."  Kamicki was having a hard time keeping a straight face.
He didn't approve of simulated pussy; besides, the computer equipment ate up
too much of a soldier's locker -- and left no space for more important
things...

	"Huh," Rendec grunted.  "At least Doramus was getting some, even if it
WAS only in his brain..."  Rendec could use some, too -- even simulated.  It
had been two hundred DP since they'd been on a station with proper comfort
facilities.  Corporal Windec was looking better and better, despite the fact
that she was a klek and a half taller than he was and carried twenty renn more
muscle mass -- not to mention the major difference in rank.  Not shipping with
a Socialator or two had been a mistake; camp followers had their place...  Of
course, by now they'd have been the only people on the ship with any money...
Who knew they were going to spend so long out in this armpit without pay?
Rendec could have rolled off-station for a day or two and go to a station or
planetary base for re-supply and a quick liberty for the troops -- IF he'd
been paid.  But the Raiders had been living off their own fat for a couple of
months; they couldn't pay the docking fees for a decent port.  Well, they
could ONCE, but Rendec had to hold that money in escrow...

	"Well, Doramus will end up PFC again, but Alegi ought to have known
better.  He's going back to Private."

	"Yessir," Kamicki replied.  "But that don't solve the basic problem,
Cap'n.  The boys need to let off steam, BAD..."

	"Yeah, I know -- but they won't get shit with what we've got...  I'll
look into it."

	"Sir."  Kamicki saluted and left.  Rendec hit the intercom.  "Blackie?
I'm coming up.  We need to talk."

	Rendec and Captain 'Blackie' Baluk were technically equals, but their
jobs differed quite a bit.  Rendec was in overall command of all of the
Raider's available resources, including the ship, technically, but Blackie was
the ship's master and ran the ship and commanded its crew after the fashion of
a naval officer.  Blackie and his crew made sure the Raiders were delivered on
time, on target -- and handled a host of other support missions, despite the
fact that there were numerically fewer of them than there were Raiders.  Now
Rendec needed for his men to be delivered somewhere else...

	The pair sat in the wardroom and sipped warm jawa from the synthesizer
-- the real thing had long-since run out.  "Blackie, things are getting too
tense around here; I need to give the men some shore leave before I don't have
any Raiders left!" Rendec groused.

	"Nobody around here will take you," Blackie replied.  "Maybe somewhere
further out in the Rim systems, where we can trade firecrackers to savages, or
something..."

	"Is that shit possible?" Rendec wondered aloud.

	Blackie stirred sweetener into his jawa.  "My Nav boys think so.
There's a pocket of systems around Centauri...  Lost colonies from the
Diaspora."

	"I hate to go busting heads over some bitch in a loincloth," Rendec
grumbled.  "Too many of those places go downhill -- be lucky if we found
anything CLOSE to human."

	"Glip has a couple of ideas..." Blackie eyed him over his cup.  "Call
me when you're desperate..."

	"I'm desperate NOW!" Rendec grunted.  "See if you can show me
anything."

	Blackie hit the intercom.  "Bridge?"

	"Sir?"

	"Get me Nav."

	"Nav."

	"Glip, the Boss wants to know what you can do for us," Blackie said
quietly.

	"Centauri is pretty empty, Skipper, but I have three possibles.  Be
about three DPs' travel..."

	"What about reaction mass?" Blackie asked.

	"THAT I can GUARANTEE!" Glip returned.  "Two of them have planets,
according to survey.  One may have several."

	"I'm out of options," Rendec muttered.  "Do it."

	Blackie relayed to Glip, "Best case for re-supply, then, Navigator.
Execute!"

	"Aye!"


	Three and a half DPs later, Rendec stood beside Blackie's command
chair on the Bridge looking down at a brown, green, and blue world with fluffy
white clouds dotting its atmosphere.  "THAT has to be prime," he announced,
"What have you got?"

	"Serious civilization," the sensor chief replied.  "They have fission
and maybe fusion, and some space travel, all low-energy chemical reaction
drives.  Satellite communication on r-f bands.  But things are uneven -- some
places seem to be a lot better off than others.  Half a DP from now, that
continent down there would be lit up like a glac board, but this continent
over here looks like it barely has basic services.  No broadcast power, per
se, although they broadcast communications -- once again with more
sophistication and better coverage some places than others."

	"Hmmph," Rendec grunted.  "Okay, let's look at the poorer
neighborhoods."

	Twenty minutes later, sensors had a full report.  "Not too tasty down
there, Cap'n," the sensor chief noted. "That big continent going to the south
there is seriously backward; gene pool looks like it came from Anubis, but
they definitely went native.  They managed to cook up some kind of local
disease, too -- about thirty percent of 'em ain't healthy -- some kind of
autoimmune problem.  Goin' north, we got hot spots -- there's some serious
military tech, but it's bein' chewed up by local guerrillas in the built-up
areas here.  There's also some on-going shit to the west, here..."  Sparks
shifted his pointer.  "Goin' north and west, in particular, things get better.
Standard of living goes up and it's more peaceful.  But it's seriously crowded
real estate; we wouldn't get much time on the ground before we'd have to go to
serious vigilance.  East of here things stay decent for a while, but
deteriorate until you get into jungle."

	"What about that big Island in the south?" Rendec asked.

	"Not heavily populated.  Everything is along the coasts, mostly.  It'd
be hit and miss."

	Blackie grunted.  "So, where is it GOOD?"

	"Other side, Skipper."  Sparks rotated the projection.  "The south
ain't any great shakes, but the north end boasts arguably the highest level of
technology on the planet.  And while it is reasonably roomy, we can probably
find population concentrations just the way we want 'em.  Locals average a
whole lot more healthy, too, than the Anubis group."

	"Bad news is they're the most likely to be able to deal with us..."
Rendec mused.

	"Electromagnetic scans indicate that we have a couple of things goin'
for us, Skipper," Sparks replied.  "No first contact, yet, although they're
aware of the concept.  Broadcast entertainment does space travel stuff beyond
their capabilities all the time.  And the locals here haven't got tough on the
kind of thing we'd be doing; they'd be thinking about collateral damage to a
nuclear strike, even though they'd be the first to get it there.  By the time
the locals get over the surprise and get their shit together, we'll be done."

	"Have they seen us?"

	"Not with anything active; shields are blocking them.  They might find
us later by passive analysis.  They're behind in a lot of ways, but from what
I've seen, cybernetics is a strong point.  We get a couple of their experts
and a good fabrication tech, and we could re-designate half of the computer
core for living space and still be able to out-maneuver most other ships..."

	Rendec whistled.  "Maybe we'll be back..."  Colony worlds like this
sometimes turned out to be very valuable for those capable of quietly
exploiting them.  The cybernetics connection might turn out to be more
profitable than being a merc...  "What about reaction mass?"

	"That's a salt ocean, just like Manhome; my guess is that either this
place was an extremely lucky find or somebody spent a gazillion credits
terraforming it.  Nonetheless, it's not bad; we can filter it, no problem."

	"Huh," Blackie grunted, "Maybe it IS Manhome!"  Nobody knew where the
race REALLY originated, exactly...

	"If it is, things dropped in the pot for about ten thousand cycles,"
Sparks replied.

	"Okay, see what you can find, then," Rendec directed.

	Things got quiet for a bit, while Sparks and his assistant ran the
scanners, then, "Lookit this!"  The main display lit, repeating the sensor
package.  It was early morning in a small bowl of a valley where a large
number of ground vehicles towing specially built trailers were congregating.
Nearby were several fenced-in areas, a couple of bleachers, and some vendor's
booths.  Men and women -- mostly women, and young ones at that, were
disembarking quadrupeds from the trailers, putting some kind of harnesses on
them and then climbing atop them.  The ones riding appeared to be wearing some
kind of uniform -- dark helmets, blouses and jackets, and strangely cut tan
pants -- but the others tended to be in as little as possible, flitting here
and there in short, clingy shorts and halters or spaghetti-strap tops.  "Eh,
lookit that!" Sparks breathed, his eyes bulging.

	"Tactically perfect, too," Rendec mused aloud.  "We can set down and
clap an interdiction field around the whole place -- nothing in or out until
they get serious.  And we'll be gone by then..."

	"Think they fuck those things?" Blackie asked.

	"No -- but they don't have to.  Look how they're riding!" Rendec
laughed.  They watched a rider take her animal through a series of jumps over
barriers set up for the purpose; she was raising and lowering herself in the
harness the animal wore in time to its movements.  "Gonna be some fine pussy
in THAT bunch!"

	Blackie laughed, then sobered.  "Lotta young stuff.  We'll have to
brief the troops..."

	Rendec nodded.  Turning to Sparks, he inquired, "What are the
numbers?"

	"Upwards of two hundred," Sparks replied, "And ninety percent of 'em
female.  More arriving from all directions, too!  Thirty or forty percent of
'em are under ten GSCs, but the rest..."  He licked his lips.

	"What's the local cycle?" Rendec inquired.  "Looks short, this close
in to the primary."

	"About a cycle and a half to the GSC.  I bet they mature early.  Look
at that!"  He zoomed in on an obviously young specimen that was equally
obviously well along toward sexual maturity to judge by the dairy farm on her
chest.  "I bet that 'un is -- what -- twelve local cycles?  Nowhere NEAR ten
GSCs!"

	Resolution firmed in Rendec.  "Put the Delaga down in a quiet stretch
of ocean to the west, there, and we'll take an assault boat."  He leaned back
and hit the intercom, "Top, get up here, and tell the Platoon Leaders and
Platoon Sergeants we meet in 50."

	Top Kamicki hit the hatch a cent later, took one look at the main
screen, and announced to all and sundry, "I will be dipped in shit!  HO LEE
FUCK!"  Blackie collapsed in his command chair, laughing, but Rendec got
quickly to business.  "Top, I see us paying a visit in an assault boat, laying
a interdiction field over the whole mess, and spending two to four dec getting
some much-needed entertainment.  Take a look over that mess and tell me what
I'm missing before I issue the Operations Order."  Top stopped counting
pussies on his fingers and got down to work.

	Half a mil later, the platoon sergeants and platoon leaders were
gathered with Rendec and Kamicki in the wardroom.  "This is gonna be a quick
in and out," Rendec announced, pleased with the pun.  "We're gonna take the
whole company, minus a volunteer rear detachment, and as many squids from the
crew as we can manage.  We'll pop an interdiction field over the whole valley,
and move quickly to crush any resistance with a minimum loss of life.  Do
NOT," he swept his eyes around the table, "let anyone start tearing up the
place!  Use stun where possible -- we might want to visit here again!"

	Kamicki opined, "I betcha if we turn a couple o' those 'horses' into
roast meat, everyone will settle down in order to keep from losing their
pets."

	Rendec nodded.  "I'd like to avoid THAT.  Let's try to collect some
free pussy and leave things basically as we found it, if possible.  Makes wild
stories harder to support.  The locals still don't really believe in 'aliens'
-- not that we ARE, except for a little genetic drift..."  He mused a moment.
"No object lessons without my direct approval.  Understood?"  Nods.  "Get your
people together -- we're gonna be in the water in twenty."


	The Rim Valley Equestrian Arena never knew what hit them.  It was ten
o'clock in the morning when the stunning sonic boom announced the arrival of
the arrow-shaped, hundred meter long assault boat; the Seniors class was doing
Equitation over Fences in Ring One and Lead Line was showing in Ring Two.
Everybody stopped, stunned, as the craft settled into VTOL and deployed it's
heavy tripod landing gear.  The Raiders used an Arrowhead because a platoon
could actually cluster in the jump seats affixed to the tops of the landing
pads, which meant that they could begin shooting as soon as the legs lowered
enough for them to clear the hull.  It made for a fine, quick, deployment --
everybody just hopped off.  The company let off a round of blaster fire -- not
aimed to hit anything, just to keep up the excitement -- and commenced to
rapidly deploy.  The salvo worked admirably; seventy percent of the locals had
their hands full for the next few moments getting a handle on their
quadrupeds.  The boat crew extended the spherical I-Field generator on a tall
mast; under other conditions, they might have floated it on a small null-grav
buoy, but this was better, and they didn't have to go to full mast height,
even.

	Rendec was amazed; nobody even seemed to own a weapon.  Certainly,
they took no projectile or energy weapons fire.  He got on the boat's address
system and keyed his translation implant.  "All right!  Everybody stake out
your animals and get over here, or we're going to lose a few of you!  Pay
attention to the troops and you'll all be still standing when we leave -- get
stupid, and you'll hurt for it!  All you sluts line up in front of the boat,
here!  Males line up, too, back where my man is waving his arm!"  Top stood
there, looking stocky and pretending that his arm wasn't really connected to
his nervous system, waving it slowly and deliberately, like a robot.  The
locals milled a bit, so he upped the ante:  "MOVE YOUR ASSES, OR WE'RE GOING
TO START BY FRYING SOMEBODY'S PET!"  Heads snapped up and people started
moving quickly; apparently Top had been right.  Still, it took a good ten mil
to get some three hundred fifty females arrayed in a half circle before the
boat, his troops chivvying some of the older, more recalcitrant and noisy ones
with the barrels of their energy weapons.  Four guards watched the fifty or so
males, arrayed in a circle facing outward some distance away.

	Becky Knopf, red-haired, freckled, and twelve, just stood there,
taking it all in.  Obviously, things were going to get wild in a minute; she'd
never seen that many big rough men in one place, but she was pretty sure what
they were there for.  Nobody was going anywhere, either -- someone had mounted
her horse and galloped for the gate and she'd expected her to go down in a
hail of gunfire, but the soldiers just watched -- until there was a sudden
blue flash at the end of the clearing, and the girl and her horse went down in
a heap.  "Go check on her," the big guy standing in front of the spaceship had
said, "She'll be fine if the fucking animal didn't break anything."  Two of
the local men were dispatched under the watchful eye of a trooper; Becky could
hear the girl start to cry as they worked her leg out from under the animal,
but she was limping this way, her arms over the men's shoulders.  The trooper
prodded them to the vicinity of the leader, who asked, "Where were you going,
Cunt?"

	"Out," the girl sniffled.  "Is -- is Buster dead?"

	Rendec shook his head.  What was this girl, seven GSCs?  Ten, twelve
local cycles?  Idiot...  "Probably not -- he just hit the wall harder than you
did."  Raising his voice, he announced, "There is a wall of energy around this
place.  It isn't going anywhere until I say different -- and you aren't,
either.  You'll all do as we say, or BAAAAD things will happen!"  Turning to
the girl, he asked, "How old are you, Cunt?"

	"I'm eleven."  The girl seemed to have gotten past fear, and was
standing fairly well -- even if her leg was broken, they could bud her a new
bone, worst case.

	He nodded, and the trooper chivvied the two men back toward the males'
group.  "Everybody younger than," he mused a moment, "thirteen, go over
there." He pointed at LT Kald.  "Round 'em up.  Keep 'em quiet."  Kald
beckoned with an arm, and the young stuff started shuffling off toward his
position off the port side of the boat.  There were a good hundred and fifty.
"Tippo, you and the LT go through 'em, looking for ringers -- dumb cunts get
special treatment!"  Several somewhat older girls who had apparently had ideas
stopped in their tracks.  There were about two hundred remaining.

	One of then broke ranks and strode forward.  Joy Frasier was forty,
brunette, and chunky.  Riding gave you heavy thighs, and she had them, as well
as a pair of fairly large breasts -- not particularly wonderful, just large.
She was a show organizer, and was feeling a certain amount of responsibility
for what she thought might be coming.  Waving a finger at Rendec, she
announced, "Now see here, you can't DO this!"

	Rendec's face went blank, which SHOULD have warned her.  His thought
process was more on the order of, 'There's always one idiot...  The fucking
kid was smarter...'  "I can't?"  He glanced at Corporal Sabac, his C3 systems
operator.  "She says I can't do this..."  The corporal shrugged.  Rendec
picked up a couple of troopers with his eyes, "Strip her."  The troopers
pounced while Joy's eyes were still popping; one of them produced an extremely
sharp knife...  Joy stopped struggling when it became apparent that it was a
good way to lose something.  "Turn her around," Rendec amplified.  The
troopers rotated her, the one holding her while the other peeled her with the
knife.  When he'd finished, he took an arm from the other trooper and they
held Joy between them, exposed, a somewhat heavy woman with large, somewhat
saggy breasts capped by big brown nipples and a thick pubic thatch.  Rendec
took advantage of the attention shift to dial down his blaster, then stepped
around in front of her to get a look.  Well, he'd prefer something more
choice, frankly, but she probably knew how to do everything he'd want from
her...  Sabac followed him around and stood, off-side, watching.  Rendec
looked Joy up and down and said, "Not bad, for her age, but I've had better.
Besides, I like my cunts bare."  With that, he drew his blaster and triggered
a quick pulse into her pudenda.

	Joy collapsed, screaming -- but not before everyone saw the effect of
the shot.  Joy's thick pubic bush disappeared instantly.  It wasn't as bad as
it looked -- more like the flash that you get when you light a barbeque -- the
blaster singed the hair off while barely giving Joy a sunburn.  But surprise
and pain shocked Joy to her core; she KNEW she was ruined, or dead, or both...
Rendec turned to Sabac and said, "Remind me to use all of her holes before we
leave."

	Sabac offered, "Lothar likes the big 'uns, Sir."

	Rendec nodded, pensive.  "Give her to Lothar.  He's to try out
everything."  The two troopers grabbed her arms and began dragging her off,
one yelling, "Lothar!  Cap'n says this one's yours!"  A giant black started
jogging in from the perimeter, yelling, "Well gimme her, then!  Drop her there
-- if she gets up and runs, it's more fun for me!"

	Joy, dumped prone, raised up, took one look, and wailed, "Nooooooo!!!"
before the big brute was on her.

	Most of the women stood transfixed, watching the show.  Rendec decided
it was time to shift their attention.  "My people are here to get a little
long-overdue entertainment.  You sluts can do as you're told and have things
go easy, or you can get stupid and have things go more difficult.  It's an
individual decision; some of my troops LIKE to kick the shit out of their
women..."  Turning to his left, he roared, "First Platoon, saddle up!  Look
'em over!  We don't have all week!"

	First Platoon got rapidly organized, and started examining the
merchandise, First Squad walking along the front of the ragged line of women,
Second Squad examining them from the rear.  It was surprisingly effective; a
Second Squad soldier would reach out to grope an ass, and if the owner
overreacted, a good slap from the First Squad soldier in front of her usually
put an end to it.  The women's fearful eyes tracked back and forth between the
oncoming threat from First Squad and the loud moans Joy was somehow managing
to get out around Lothar's huge cock.  Lothar had undone the trap on his
combat coverall en-route (the Raider's equipment didn't use the narrow trouser
openings that the locals seemed to favor, but rather a trap-door closure sort
of like old sailor's pants, but with seals instead of buttons; it was more
sanitary under combat conditions and a lot less work to get at), and he had
Joy's head pressed against his crotch with both hands, driving her onto his
cock while her hands flailed.  In a moment, he reached down easily and slapped
her, grunting "No teeth..."  Lothar was on a low volume PA link, deliberately,
so every sound carried, keeping the other captives distracted.  In a moment,
he let go and announced, "Do it yourself, then, but make sure I like it; if
you ain't goin' deep enough, I'll just choke ya with it and throat fuck ya
while you're unconscious."  Rendec smiled; Lothar was their chief interrogator
-- the combination of his imposing body and the offhand manner with which he
dealt out threats that he invariably followed through on was an exercise in
psych warfare in itself, but Lothar was an artist.  Joy, now thoroughly cowed,
was holding onto his tree-trunk thighs, working hard while he bent and reached
down to grab big handfuls of her heavy tits.  "Deeper, Slut," Lothar grunted,
squeezing a handful of the soft flesh; the witnesses saw the grip, heard the
bubbling scream, and watched Joy's shoulders hunch as she tried hard to drive
him down her throat.  Lothar looked up at his Captain, "They're trainable,
Sir."

	Joy had hit the ground, still burning from the flash at her crotch,
only to lookup into the eyes of a giant black who was popping open something
huge in the way of a fly to expose a cock... Shocky as she was, that cock
brought another -- it was HUGE!  She'd started to move, but he was there
already, pinning her to the ground by dropping a knee over her forearm.  Then
there was a hand in her hair and that monster was in her face, its musk
assaulting her nose.  "Suck," Lothar had ordered, or I'll kick your teeth in
and THEN you'll suck!"  Joy didn't think about it; fear was in control.  Her
mouth opened, and Lothar jammed it in.  Both of his big hands went behind her
head, and his thick cock went right into her throat, dragging Joy into a
maelstrom of choking suffocation while he stood up, dragging her along by the
simple expedient of holding her pinned to his crotch while he rose to his
feet.  Joy's hands waved and she gurgled a scream around his invading shaft,
but it came out as a moan.  Lothar responded by jamming several full-length
strokes into her heaving throat.  Then came the slap, stunning her, and the
admonishment to watch her teeth...

	Joy had never sucked a cock; a couple of abortive efforts by her ex to
get her to do it had ended the issue when she ranted and raved about it and
ended the sex session.  She liked her dick in her pussy and nowhere else,
thank you very much; she liked being eaten, but only really got off while
taking it deep, and Art hadn't been gifted in that area.  It had been one of
the unspoken reasons for the divorce, not that she'd done any better on her
own, sleeping around...  Now, she wished she hadn't been such a bitch about it
-- the skill might save her life!  When Lothar let up and announced she could
carry on, she was fully committed to doing so, not because she was enjoying
it, but more from the idea that she wanted to live...  She grasped his thighs
and started to work on her own, running the thing to the gates of her throat,
but unable to make passage on her own.  Then Lothar's grip on her left breast
went from stimulating to agonizing.  It provided her the impetus, though, to
impale herself -- she crushed herself to his crotch, gagging on his pole until
he released her crushed breast.

	Oddly, his verbal approval of her effort gave her pleasure...

	Lothar switched off the commlink and murmured to her, "Now that we
understand each other, we can get on with Cocksucking 101.  You ever done
this?"

	"Go," Joy gurgled, his cock garbling her speech.  Lothar took it for
the negation it was, and said, "Lick the underside; work on the bottom at the
back of the head, in particular.  Then go deep, so I feel your lips on the
hair at the base.  Lotsa lip, and lotsa suction, but keep the teeth out of it.
Understand?"

	"Uh huh," Joy gurgled, weirdly happy that she was not being actively
abused.

	"Good.  You swallow a load for warm-up, and we'll move on to your
other holes," Lothar grunted.  Joy started working diligently to get his cum;
was it fear that drove her, or something else?  She discovered that she didn't
want to know; best to just concentrate on doing a good job...

	Meanwhile, First Platoon continued its examination of the 'catch'.
Doramus, the late Corporal, maintained his spot as Second Squad's scout.  The
local's asses were kinda odd...  Horsewomen tend to build up muscle mass in
the thighs and ass, even those not huge elsewhere -- but Doramus didn't know
that...  The ones in the stupid brown pants looked even more out of shape, as
a rule; Doramus bypassed them and moved on to a little hottie wearing a
spaghetti-strap blouse and short shorts.  In between, there was a strip of
bare skin and a decorative tattoo along the saddle of her back that
disappeared into the cleft of her buttocks.

	Casey Riddick WAS hot.  Her brown hair was sun-streaked, and she was
tanned all over.  Her titties weren't huge, but they were nice, and
horsemanship had provided her with a round little knockout ass.  At nineteen,
she was a college girl, home for the summer after her first year of sampling
the wild fleshpots of a local college; cock and Casey were not strangers.
Still, she was highly surprised to find herself chewing dirt...

	Doramus had discovered the tattoo, and it set him off.  His opposite
number in First Squad caught the look in his eye and stepped forward just
quickly enough to be out of the way when Doramus dealt Casey a pushing blow
that dumped her on her face in the well-chewed grass, then stepped forward and
put his foot in the middle of her back.  Knowing he was the center of
attention, he slipped out his bayonet and proceeded to use the monomolecular
blade to reduce Casey's shorts to rags.  "What the fuck is THIS, Slut?" he
asked, fingering the tattoo.

	"It's a tattoo, Fucker!" Casey gasped.

	POW!  The fact that Doramus had used the flat of his hand on her round
ass didn't keep it from setting fire to it!  "You need to find another name
for me, Slut -- I didn't like that one!" Doramus reproved.  "What's it mean?"

	"It's just decoration," Casey grunted, "Sir!"

	Doramus grunted.  "Says 'Slut' to me..."  He reached down and doubled
Casey up, collecting her awkwardly under his arm, bent double, his arm behind
her knees, to show off the mark.  "Lissen up, you cunts!  If you got one 'a
these, ANYWHERE, you pull off the hunk of clothing that's hidin' it so me an'
my buddies can see it!  Now!  If you don't, an' me or one a' my buddies finds
it later, we'll get Dolf back there," he pointed out a large bald Asian
looking character holding a crew-served powergun like it was a personal
pistol, "to fist ya while we watch -- whether the hole he picks can take it or
not!"  Silence.  "Ya got 'til I count five...  One..."  There was a sudden mad
rush in the ranks.  Women were snatching off blouses, brassieres, pants, socks
-- anything that might hide a tattoo.  "Two...  If'n you don't snatch anything
off, we're gonna go lookin'..."  Several holdouts were convinced to partially
disrobe.  "Three...   Four..."  Doramus licked a forefinger, and with great
ceremony, slid it into Casey's cunt -- only to find it wet...  "Five.
Awright.  You other silly cunts -- if we find somethin', your ass belongs to
Dolf!"  Dolf held up a hand the size of a catcher's mitt and grinned.  Doramus
wriggled his finger in Casey's opening reflectively, and turned to Alegi.  "I
got mine.  C'mon, Sweet Thang, you're gonna do some pole-sitting for Uncle
Dor."  He turned and stalked off, still lugging Casey under his arm.

	Rendec looked around, and caught four women still eying Dolf like he
was a rattlesnake, and grinned.  "Get me eight volunteers from Second Platoon,
quietly," he told Sabac, who nodded and got on the comm gear.  Eight hands
went up.  Rendec began pointing, "That one, that one, that one, and that one.
Strip 'em.  If they fucked up, take 'em to Dolf."  Two of the women were still
looking at the giant when hands closed on their upper arms; one, a heavyset
American Indian woman, saw them coming and broke ranks, screaming.  The
trooper nearest her clouted her on the back of the head, and she was face down
in the dirt before any possibility of escape or defense could be realized.
There was a moment of efficient knife work, and all four were nude; three of
them had tattoos.  Rendec stepped over to the fourth.  "What's up with you?"

	The woman, a chunky bleached-blonde in her late thirties, blubbered,
"I don't...", but couldn't seem to get anything else out.

	Rendec shook his head.  Either Dolf scared her out of her mind, or...
Either way, it should be entertaining.  "Take her to Dolf, too -- only he
FUCKS her!"

	"AaaaaaAAAAAHH!!!" the woman wailed, gibbering.

	"Yeah, yeah, you can thank me later..." Rendec murmured, more for
effect than anything else.  Looking around, he continued, "Okay, we got a few
examples of what happens when you fuck up!  I RECOMMEND that you give serious
thought to active cooperation when your number comes up!"  He pointedly
glanced over at where Lothar had stuck Joy through the split-rail fence and
was pounding her from the rear.  Given the wailing grunts, Rendec figured
Lothar was working her ass...  In the other direction, the Indian bitch let
out a keening wail as Dolf, with great ceremony, inserted his middle finger in
her ass.  There was a general chuckle from the men; Dolf didn't stand on
ceremony; he went to two fingers, and the next scream was exponentially
louder.  "Have we all learned?"  There were dazed nods.  "Be prepared to prove
it.  If one of my men wants something from you, you'd better do your level
best to provide it -- hear me?"

	Alegi went for an immediate test.  Turning to the still fully-dressed
young woman opposite him, he growled, "Show me them tits."  The young woman
went for the buttons on her riding frock blouse without hesitation, eyes
large.  Lisa Allison was the thin, somewhat horse-faced type that dressage
sometimes attracts; her breasts weren't much to speak of; calling them 'B' cup
was being charitable.  Nonetheless, there was no sag to them; they were little
conical peaks with pinkish brown nipples.  Alegi lost interest before she
shrugged out of the jacket and blouse simultaneously, already demanding,
"Lemme see if your pussy is worth a look."

	Getting out of her jodhpurs and boots was a lot more trouble; Lisa
turned fearfully to the older woman next to her and pled, "Help me..."  She
unzipped her jodhpurs and shucked them down over her narrow hips, then sat
down.  The older woman, a professional trainer, straddled one leg and bent to
pull the boot -- which was HER undoing, for the First Squad soldier passing,
Corporal Dommick, got an eyeful of cleavage.  Nora Higdon's head was down,
concentrating on the boot pull; she had no idea she was in any trouble until
hands grasped her peasant-style blouse at the tails and ripped them back up
over her head.  Somehow, the boot came off; Nora was somewhat tied up for a
moment, while Lisa eyed Alegi in open fear.

	Alegi grimaced.  "You're a scrawny little pissant," he announced.
"Get that shit all off, anyway; there's a couple of guys in Second Platoon
that like their sluts to have that boyish look."  He turned away,
uninterested, while Corporal Dommick broke out his bayonet, and, holding Nora
by a fistful of her chestnut hair, snipped away her brassiere.  Lisa, working
off the other boot, looked into Nora's eyes and mouthed, "Sorry..."

	"Big ass on that one," the next Second Squad trooper opined as he
passed, but Dommick merely chuckled, "Well, I won't be able to miss it, then,
will I?"  Dommick added a hammerlock to the hair pull and dragged Nora out of
line, "C'mon, slut, I KNOW a woman your age has had all her holes plowed..."
Lisa just sat there, naked, tailor-fashion, and shivered.  Off to the side,
Miss Joy was still grunting...

	Lothar had poured semen into Joy's mouth very soon after she got the
hang of things, pinning her and grunting as his cock pulsed in her mouth.
"Swallow, Slut," he admonished, "you don't wanna piss me off."  Joy had no
choice, anyway; her head was trapped.  Oh she could have let some of it pour
out over her lips, maybe, but that would have been about it; swallowing
cleaned the pungent mess out of her mouth better and more quickly.  The taste
was, well, strange -- indescribable.  But it wasn't anything she couldn't deal
with.  "Clean it, but keep it wet," Lothar directed, "You'll be glad you did."
When it became apparent she'd done with the cleanup, Lothar snatched Joy up
like she was a feather and rammed her between the middle and upper rails of
the nearest fence.  "Grab onto something, and feel free to yowl; this won't
start too pleasant," Lothar grunted.  He slipped his still damp cock along
Joy's newly bare pink outer labia, noting that the bitch had managed to get
wet, and zeroed in on her brown pucker.  The Cap'n said he wanted her done
everywhere...

	Pain exploded in Joy's anus as Lothar's log invaded it without
preliminaries.  She tried to scream, but Lothar had packed her in tight
between the rails -- not only couldn't she move effectively, but her heavy
breasts were wedged such that she couldn't get in much in the way of air.  As
a result, all she managed was a passionately strained grunt while tears
poured.  Lothar wedged the head of his huge cock on the first pass, then spit
on the shaft and jammed a bit more in.  Withdrawal lubed her a bit, but not
much; it took Lothar several more tries to get to the point where he was fully
buried in Joy's still-dry ass.  "You all right, bitch?" he asked, more or less
matter-of-factly.

	"Uuuhhh!" was all Joy could get out.  Her ass burned, and her
sphincter felt like it had been ripped to shreds!

	Lothar grunted and pulled back a bit, so he could reach down and slide
a finger in the slut's twat.  Bitch had learned her lesson and she'd given a
good blowjob -- no reason to just beat the shit out of her...  Joy's channel
clutched his finger, but it wasn't totally dry; Lothar slid it back and forth
a bit, then added a second.  He wouldn't be able to keep this up while he was
going to town on her ass, but if it loosened her up...

	The finger invading her pussy did strange things to Joy's head,
changing her perception of the ram in her ass.  Suddenly, although it
continued to hurt, it wasn't as bad, and the full sensation in her ass added
to the feelings that the fingers were beginning to generate in her pussy...
Well...

	Lothar was nothing short of amazed; the silly bitch was lubing up!
Shit, when he finally got around to her pussy, she might even like it!  That
had to be an improvement over workin' a tight, dry snatch while the bitch
screamed bloody murder...  Lothar had done it rough before; pillaging was an
age-old bonus granted to troops -- especially mercenary troops -- just about
everywhere; efforts by 'civilized' societies to outlaw it had invariably paid
the price for it by suffering from poorer performance from their troops.
There was just something about looking forward to getting a piece of ass at
the end of a battle that made a man fight harder...  But Lothar liked for his
women to enjoy his work; it was a lot more pleasant.  Hookers sucked -- no
emotional involvement; he'd rather rape a bitch -- at least she'd be paying
attention.  But willing cooperation from his sex partners was an apex to his
sex life that he'd seldom managed to attain...  "Awright, Slut, I'm gonna
pound your ass because the Cap'n said to do it -- but I'm gonna take it easier
than I could 'cause I'm thinking from the way you're wettin' my fingers that
when I do your pussy, you might like it.  You cooperate an' don't gimme any
shit, and maybe we'll BOTH enjoy round three. All right?"

	" 'Kay," Joy wheezed, and put her hands on the fence rail.  "Can't
breathe..."  She shifted her stance, spreading her legs and lowering her ass a
bit, then pushed back against Lothar to unwedge herself.  Lothar, taken more
or less by surprise, didn't move, and Joy ended up taking him to the hilt as
she backed up.  He was just trying to decide how to react to this, (first
instinct was to slap the shit out of her) when she folded her arms on the
fence rail and grunted, "Go ahead, then..."

	Lothar was nonplussed.  Resettling himself (he was now too close to
work), he announced, "Here it comes!  Why don't you diddle yerself an' see if
that helps?"  He started sliding his huge member in and out of Joy's much less
resistant ass, taking it easy, but getting his -- after all, it was what he
was there for...  He raised two gooey fingers to his nose and inhaled -- shit,
there was nothing like the smell of wet pussy...  He wiped then on the shaft
of his cock and resumed his grasp on the bitch's hip, adding a bit to the
stroke.

	Joy missed the fingers immediately.  The cock in her ass was no longer
agonizing, but it wasn't that great without the added tingle.  Glancing around
in embarrassment, she slipped her hand back and started skinning the hood on
her clitoris, following Lothar's suggestion.  The burned areas were still
tender, but the added sensation made all the difference; suddenly, the moving
cock was pleasant again...  Joy began to grunt rhythmically with the
strokes...

	Rendec watched all this stoically.  Things were beginning to jell; Top
had put an end to some of the foolishness by roaring "Awright, this ain't a
beauty contest, an' there's STILL two of 'em for every one of us!  Get
something and get in it!  We ain't got all day!"  The left end of the line of
women had begun to dissipate as First Platoon got motivated, so Rendec had put
Second Platoon on the right end, and they were working their way along, too,
settling for the less than perfect while leaving the worst of the dregs
standing there looking foolish.  Soon, he'd be able to turn the Third and HQ
Platoons and the squids from the crew who'd come down with them on the center
of the line...  Lt. Kald was walking up; Rendec looked around and discovered
that the young stuff had disappeared.  "Where are the kids?"

	"I sent 'em over there, into that outbuilding," Kald nodded at a big
wooden warehouse-type building.  "It's for animals and grain storage -- no
weapons.  I put a few of the older ones to watch the little ones and keep them
from seeing too much.  Tenyek is with 'em."

	Rendec nodded, but admonished, "Tenyek is here to have fun, too.  Just
because she's female..."  The Raiders were a little over ninety percent male;
the females, who tended to be specialists in the HQ Platoon with a few
outstanding exceptions, were of various orientations.  Some had forged
permanent or semi-permanent alliances with male Raiders, who by convention
were required to be of near equal rank and assigned to another platoon; others
preferred the company of their own sex, like Tenyek.  Rendec wondered for a
moment whether Tenyek might consider one or more of the older young ones to be
a potential cuntlapper...  In many cases, members of couples of either
orientation had stayed aboard the Delaga -- but the others, looking for fresh
meat, had come to play.  Reminded, he turned and clicked over to the HQ
Platoon comm channel to talk to the Platoon Sergeant, "Hroosh, the men-folk
over there are being ignored.  Why don't you turn the females loose?  Pass the
word to the other platoons."

	"Aye, Sir."  There was a high-pitched squeal, and a half-dozen female
troops broke ranks, headed for the circle of captive men in the background.
The one female member of First Platoon was in that building with the kids, but
the two from Second backed out of their squad deployment and turned toward the
males, too; the one in Third would peruse women with the male troops, that
being her preference.  Rendec kind of pitied the local males; female soldiers
tended to be dominant, and the current situation wouldn't give 'em parity at
all...  There were small clumps of thrashing bodies being spread all over the
field; First Platoon had apparently made their selection, and Second was
finishing up, so Rendec waved Third and HQ forward, each to get half the
remainder, working from the center out.

	One of those clumps was Casey and Doramus.  He'd dumped her on her ass
under one of the few trees, and put his boot in her stomach to pin her while
he dropped his coverall fly, revealing a good-sized, hard, lean shaft topped
with a purplish mushroom head protruding from a jungle of dark fur.  Removing
his boot, he announced, "Awright, Sweet Thang, one look at you tells me that
you've met dick, so c'mere and meet mine!"  Casey struggled to get her legs
under her, then made a break to her right, but Doramus read her like a book;
he leaped left, snatched her left arm and spun her directly into his crotch.
Casey found herself with a face full of throbbing flesh, kinky black hair and
male musk.  She backed off awkwardly, her legs twisted under her -- and then
came the slap.  In the aftermath, she sat there, shocked, wondering if her
nose was broken; the whole right side of her face was numb.  Cautious
exploration with her tongue said she hadn't quite cut her lips, cheek, or
tongue, but that was pure luck... While she did this exploration, her eyes met
Doramus' mildly irritated ones.  "That's two, since we got here.  Things get
tougher from here.  You was wet a minute ago, so enjoying all this is possible
for ya; I'd prefer ya did, frankly -- I'm not into bustin' up my women.  But
if I break your fucking leg, then I won't have to worry 'bout you wandering
off, and if I knock out all of your teeth, I won't have to worry 'bout your
bite.  Your choice."  He watched her eyes while she thought this over for a
second, grabbing a handful of her ponytail to keep her head tilted back and
maintain eye contact.

	It had its effect; Casey dropped her eyes and said, "Okay."

	Doramus let go of her head and grunted, "Lose the blouse.  I want to
play with those titties while you suck."  Casey said nothing, merely flipping
the thin top over her head and tossing it to the side in a single motion; she
was bare-assed, anyway...  She reached for Doramus' cock.  "Havin' half of
that bit off between your teeth won't do you no good if your guts are rolling
out inta the dirt, Sweet Thang.  You play nice, and Uncle Dor will, too...
Aaaahhhhhh!"  Casey hadn't seen any need to discuss it; she'd gotten the
point, before.  She could count the times she'd been slapped on one hand, and
NONE of them had been THAT hard!  Instead, she'd jacked back his foreskin and
applied her tongue to the underside of his shaft.  After all, she LIKED
sucking cock!  Why make a production of it?  Doramus collected a brownish pink
nipple capping a firm, B-cup titty, and started rolling it between his
fingers.  Yeah, Sweet Thang was gonna work out JUST FINE!

	Troy Mason stood in the male's circle, watching the incredible scene
of pillage and rapine, and clenched his big fists.  "We need to DO something!"
he husked.  That guy with Casey...  Troy had sampled Casey's wares a couple of
times; they weren't engaged, or anything, but watching her get slapped
around...

	"You need to settle down and shut up!" Lee Gates hissed urgently
beside him.  Lee had met Troy a couple of times, but they hardly qualified as
acquaintances -- they merely hung out at the same barn, for different reasons.
"Look around.  They aren't killing people wholesale, but they have a use for
the women, and they DON'T for us!"  THAT observation proved to be premature;
there was a whoop, and eight or ten troops broke ranks from the group gathered
at the base of the spacecraft -- certainly, that's what it was -- and started
double-timing toward them.  Lee recognized the gait -- he was ex-military --
but there was something odd about it...  As they got closer, things resolved
themselves, a bit; the troop's chests tended to move independent of their
field gear...  Females!  Jeezus!  Big ones, too!  The first on the scene
roared "You're relieved!", and the four male troops guarding the men moved
out; the fact that the voice was a contralto didn't keep it from being a roar.
Some idiot on Lee's left tried to take advantage of what he perceived as
confusion by breaking ranks, but one of the female troops just veered in his
direction, slipped out her bayonet, and threw it overhand, where it clocked
the young fool.  Lee grunted; everyone stood down when they saw the knife
flick out, and most assumed the man was dead, but the hollow sound of the
impact told Lee that he was probably merely unconscious; it hadn't been the
meaty thunk of a blade sheathing itself in flesh.

	"Shit, we're DONE FOR, Man!" Troy whined, but one of the two troops
that had thudded to a stop in the immediate vicinity replied, "Nah, not if you
don't get seriously stupid.  I'm here for a little strange dick."  She eyed
Troy, who was in his mid-twenties and muscular.  "Why don't you show me
yours?"

	Lee took in the pair as they pulled off their battle helmets.  The one
that had spoken was tall, white, tanned, built like a weightlifter -- and had
bright orange hair that tumbled out to her shoulders as the helmet came off.
Not carrot red, but bright orange; she wasn't freckled or pasty-fleshed,
either, like an Earth-born redhead...  Lee wondered just how human she was...
The other girl was chocolate brown, and beautiful, from what he could see,
despite the fact that she stood nearly six feet tall.  Troy was gingerly
shucking his shorts, revealing his fear-shriveled member.  "I hope to shit you
can convince that thing that it's time for a little fun," Orange Hair
observed, working something that looked like a ziploc seal to begin opening
her coverall, "You got things, Teela?"  The black girl dropped back a step and
went to port arms, taking the watch, and muttered, "Yeah."  Orange Hair came
totally out of her battle gear, displaying a body that would make female
bodybuilders jealous just about anywhere -- lovely, actually, despite the fact
that her breasts weren't much but a pair of stiff nipples on small, rounded
pads.  "C'mon, Baby, it's party time!  I'll even ride on top!" she cajoled.

	Around the circle a bit, someone took offense at being grabbed at, and
there was an unmistakable snap as the trooper he was dealing with more or less
instinctively broke his forearm.  Lee looked over as the guy produced a
hissing howl, and Teela grunted, "They'll have to bud him a new one; that
sounded bad..."  Across the field, another, similar snap sounded as a woman
who'd slapped a trooper drew back a bloody stub and started wailing.

	Lee's brain went into overdrive.  "Miss," he addressed the black girl,
"What do you mean by 'bud'?"

	"Clone the new part in place," Teela replied, eyeing Lee.  Everyone
else was all worked up, but here this guy stands, cool as a cucumber, asking
questions...  "Why?"

	Lee frowned.  "We don't have that, here," he explained.  "We're
cloning animals a little bit, but it's early.  And local religion considers it
immoral -- an offense to God."

	"God?" Teela queried.

	"Monotheistic deity," Lee amplified.

	"How do you fix this shit, then?" Teela inquired.

	"Set it, and let Nature do the work, where possible," Lee replied.
"Surgery, in some cases, to put in screws and plates."

	"Uh huh."  Teela dropped her snooper shades as she went to comm; given
the way things were, she'd better jump the chain...  "Black Six, this is Black
Three Three."

	"Six Alpha," Sabac replied.

	"Tell Six Actual that the locals don't have serious medical support,"
Teela relayed.  "They can't bud replacements!"

	"Roger."  Sabac squealed the conversation to Rendec, replaying it
rather than getting his attention and relaying it verbally.

	Rendec got the replay, and muttered, "Shit."  Actively joining the
conversation, he said "Six Actual.  How good is this info?"

	Teela gazed at Lee, considering.  "Wait one."  Addressing Lee, she
said, "Why should I believe you?  There is something about you...  Are you
REALLY a local?"

	"Yeah, unfortunately," Lee replied.  "I'm ex-military, so I've seen
some shit.  Most of these," he waved an arm, "haven't.  Also, I've been
reading science fiction since I was a kid, so I have the concepts for shit
falling from the sky on me.  Last, I got no women in that line over there," he
nodded toward the shattered remnants of the female display group; most of
those still standing were old, REALLY fat, or otherwise unwholesome.  Lee's
wife and daughter had left for the nearest Starbucks forty minutes before, as
Lynn, his daughter, wasn't going to be competing until afternoon.  Lee was
beginning to think that a piece of Teela or Orange Hair might be worth the
price of admission. His wife had been an oxygen thief for over a decade; her
pussy had NEVER been THAT good, and she spent money like he made three times
what he did.  Lee's daughter and the fact that divorce would break him was all
that kept him married, and Lynn was sixteen, anyway.

	Teela nodded.  Yeah, that was it.  This guy was OBSERVING, not
reacting emotionally.  Switching back to comm, she replied, "I trust him.  In
fact, he might be a valuable resource..."

	"Right."  Switching to the general frequency, Rendec roared, "All
elements, this is Six!  Take it REAL EASY -- the locals can't make proper
repairs!  No breaking anything you don't ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO!"  Turning to
Sabac, he instructed, "Call the ship.  Have Blackie send a full medical team
with field medical equipment."  He looked over to his right, where Dolf had
one of his victims laid out supine on a wooden bench with his fist in her cunt
to the wrist, pumping, while another trooper, a big tit in either hand, was
ramming his cock down her throat.  Two other women were looking on in horror,
pinned at the arms by troopers, while the Indian woman rolled on the ground,
in a fetal position, moaning.  Rendec could see blood flowing from her abused
anus.  "Tell him to send a couple of stasis chambers, too.  There are a couple
of candidates.  And sleepy gas."  Looking up, he frowned and walked over to
where a trooper had dropped a woman right at the line and stuck his boot in
his ass, flattening him.  "Brok, damn it!  I SAID to take it easy!"  Brok
liked for his women to fight, when he got worked up and had deliberately
picked himself a well-turned-out bleached blonde thirty-something mother with
a high-and-mighty attitude; she'd gotten predictably stupid, and Brok had gone
nuts on her -- the woman's right arm and jaw were broken, and her left was
pinned to the ground by his combat knife.  When Rendec intervened, he'd been
trying to get her legs behind her head, so he could power-drive straight into
her pussy.  Rendec took a look; the woman wasn't saying anything, both because
her jaw wasn't operative and because her eyes were blank with shock.  "Damn
it, Brok!  This is NOT an after-action pillage outing!  These people are
merely unwilling hosts!  Behave more or less like you're in a station pleasure
palace, or I'll brig you, understand?"

	"Aye, Sir!"  Now that the bloodlust had dropped off, the woman was
worthless -- he'd fucked her up royally, Brok realized.  Looking around, he
covered his embarrassment by grunting truculently, "Awright, you've seen what
can happen to fuck-ups; anybody here think they can do shit RIGHT?"

	Rendec shook his head and turned back to Sabac.  "At least three
chambers.  Now!"

	Sabac ducked his head to the mouthpiece, murmuring.  "They're rolling,
Sir."

	"Okay, go get you some."  Rendec wondered when HE was going to be able
to let up and get any.  Thus far, it had been one thing after another....
<1st attachment end>


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