The plough girl, part eight
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Olga is promoted to head of security at the casino, and makes some long-needed changes. She also suggests a routine where she crushes a coconut between her thighs, and this really impresses the customers. Then she does the same with a skull ... which she then explains is just a plastic replica. She then added a quarter-bending routine. with the offer of, you give me $50,and a quarter, and I give you back the quarter, bent in half. But what really gets the customes excited, is her plough dance, using a real. 600 pound plough, where she lifts it, dances with it, raises it over her head and swings it down again. All very graceful, and when she's finished the dance, six men from the audience try to lift the plough between them, but they can only just manage to get it a few inches above the floor.
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The plough girl, part 9
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Olga is interviewed on TV, and as a result, she meets Trudi, another plough girl. Trudi tells Olga that she's going back to Ukraine, to fight the Russians. "We're going back to Ukraine, and this time we're going to send the Russians back where they came from." Olga explains "I have to do this. I can't just stand by, and let other people fight my fight." Olga does her plough dance on the ship to Hamburg; the passengers love her. The plough girls make a plan. They will return to Ukraine, and go behind Russian lines, where they plan to kill Russian officers, destroy supply depots and ruining their logistics, so that the front lines are starved of fuel, ammo and food. The Russians would soon feel the wrath of a plough girl.
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The plough girl - part ten
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Olga starts her gory work - killing Russian officers. The first one died in her leg scissors. He died when his ribs collapsed and penetrated his internal organs. He bled internally, copiously, and died silently. After killing several more officers, she attacked a stores depot, using a truck. She hitched a lift in a truck, leaned towards the driver, took his head in her hands and gave it a sharp twist, wringing his neck like a chicken. He was dead before he knew what was happening. The truck was doing fifty kph when it hit the oil drums, but she jumped off just before that happened. There was a satisfying explosion when one of the oil drums went up, another when the the fuel in the truck caught, and then the fire spread to the other oil drums, a raging inferno, which quickly spread to the big storage tanks nearby.
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The plough girl - part eleven
Price: 4.00
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Olga turns her attention to the railway system, because that's the way that military supplies were moved. She didn't have explosives, but she had something just as good - her legs. She used her powerful thighs to bend the rails a few inches, and the next train that came along derailed, the wagons behind also derailed, the fuel wagons burst and caught fire and the whole thing became a major disaster. After she did the same thing again, the Russians started patrolling the tracks in squads of four. They were easy meat for Olga and her sling. All she needed was her head scarf and her ammo was a stone. Then she started to bend the rails in tunnels, causing huge crashes that would take months to clear. Her efforts made the railway system nearly useless, because trains could only move slowly, and the lines had to be patrolled frequently. So Russian logistics had to go by road, and Olga used her sling to ambush truck convoys.
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The plough girl, part 12
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Olga turns her attention to the Russian airfields. They are heavily defended against attack from the air - radar, missiles and ack-ack. But they had no defense against a plough girl. She tore a hole in the chain link fence, sneaked in and stole a 300 pound barrel of gasoline. Then she grabbed a pilot and tortured him until he told her where the nearby airfields were. How do you throw a 300 pound barrel of gasoline, 1000 feet? Not even a plough girl can do that. So she built a trebuchet in the middle of the forest. Her first shot hit the fuel dump and started a huge fire. Her second shot hit the ammo storage, and there was a huge explosion which wrecked the airfield. After doing this a few times, the Russians got wise and burned down any forest within a kilometer of an airfield. So Olga changed tactics. Then an airplane takes off, it starts off pretty low - low enough for Olga to be able to hit it with a rock, thrown from her sling. This doesn't do much damage to the rock, but wrecks the airplane. And when that stopped working, she used home-made spars and a spear thrower. One spear, one airfield.
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The Black Burqa part two
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Sfiyah visited just now, and she was quite excited. "Ayesha, I have a task for you." Uh-oh, I thought, she wants me to bake a cake, and I'm a really rotten cook. But that wasn't it. "You know Jawaria?" "You mean the one married to Dawud?" "That's right," said Sfiyah. "Well I was with her yesterday, and she has a big bruise on her cheek." "How did that happen?" "She said she bent over and hit it on a tap, but I don't believe that's true." "Why would she lie?" "To avoid the shame of admitting that her husband beats her. You remember, you didn't tell anyone when Raafid was beating you." "So why is it your problem?" I asked. "It's a problem for all of us," she replied. "We are all sisters, and so we must care for each other." "Maybe he had a good reason to beat her?" I wondered. Sfiyah gave me a withering look. "Like Raafid had a good reason to beat you?" "Good point," I admitted. "So what do you want me to do about it?" "I think you should Raafid him. Do what you did to Raafid." "But that was different. He was going to marry off Maryam when she was only thirteen, and I just lost my cool at him." Sfiyah shook her head. "That was the trigger. But the real reason was all the abuse you took over so many years. Well, now Jawaria needs your help." "Why me?"
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Respect all, fear nun part two
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An inspector calls The letter confirming that the defunding had been rescinded, duly arrived. No surprise - Justin Graham had sworn on a bible that this would be done, and that's binding. But our celebrations were short-lived. That letter was swiftly followed by another, telling us that we were going to be inspected. If that sounded ominous, it's because it was. Not because we were doing anything wrong, but because today's America is a place where officials like the mayor make use of official systems to get what they personally want. Yes, that is corruption, but this is how it is now. We were in his way. He wanted the orphans to be in his privately run, for-profit, orphan machine - and the sisters of St Hilda wanted the orphans to have the best experiences growing up, that we could give them. I told Nancy, the Mother Superior. "Deal with it," she said, not unkindly. "I have great confidence in you, Fiona, and I'll pray for you." Prayer is good, of course, but I wanted more. "Could I borrow one of the novices?" I asked. "What for?" asked the Mother Superior. "When the inspectors call, I want to shadow them, to make sure they don't make up stuff about us. So I need the extra pair of hands. Could I borrow Daisy?" "You mean, Sister Vache?" "Yes." "OK, that's fine, you can have her for two weeks." She was called Sister Vache for a reason. And her nickname was Daisy for the same reason - a cow's udders can hold six gallons of milk, and a cow's teats are about two inches long. Daisy wasn't anywhere near that big - but nicknames don't have to be accurate.
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The Black Burqa part six
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"Those high powered rifles can go straight through even Kevlar" he told me. "Yes," I agreed. Actually, I was surprised that no-one had guessed that we'd kitted out our women with steel plate armor - armor much heavier than an ordinary man could carry. And that steel armor, weighing about a hundred pounds would deflect an AR-15 round. We knew this, because we'd tested it. "But what if the shooter had gone for a head shot?" That was certainly a possibility, but gun training was to aim for the Centre mass, because a head is a much smaller target. "If he'd gone for a head shot, it would certainly have been "Goodnight Gracie", but we sent in three Black Burqas, and even if one was killed, it would be a good trade for the lives of the thirty off springs that he was holding hostage." "That's incredibly brave," said the interviewer. "We're women," I replied. "And we're mothers. off springs are the purpose of our existence. You'd need to be a mother yourself to understand, but here's a simple way to put it. The female of the species is more deadly than the male." I continued. "Men talk. Men negotiate. Men compromise, and while that is appropriate for many purposes, when it comes to off springs, there is no doubt, no hesitation and no compromise. Our Black Burqas had one and only one purpose. If the police had tried to stop them, they would have been swept aside. If one had been shot then the other two would have continued to rescue those off springs." "The shooter was in a real mess when the police went in, wasn't that excessive?" he asked. I repeated, "There is no compromise. No negotiation. Anyone who threatens our off springs, gets the immediate white-hot fury of the female of the species. In this case, what happened exactly was, a punch to the belly to incapacitate him and double him up, a knee lifted to meet the face coming down and break the nose and teeth, and a double-fist rabbit punch to knock him out and lay him flat on the ground. And when a Black Burqa delivers that triple whammy, the recipient is knocked cold for the next several hours. And if it's delivered too hard and the guy dies, then we're not going to weep for him, he threatened our off springs with death." "And if in the course of taking down an active shooter with a gun, he gets injured, then I'm not going to apologies to him. Even if he loses a few fingers when the gun is seized and is unable to fire a gun in future, then that's just a consequence of his decision to pick up a gun and kill our off springs."
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Windmills 2
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Following that first day, when Steph showed me her new, gym toned body, and demonstrated her superior physical power, things began to change in our marriage. It wasn't just the dynamic of our sex lives either, the whole nature of our relationship changed. I don't think it was the fact she could (and did) now take full control in bed - it was the fact I loved it. This was something quite different and fed into the dynamics of life together outside the bedroom. It wasn't like I used to be undisputed head of the household and all that had suddenly changed. Steph had always made more money than me and we had always made out decision together. The important stuff, like about the off springs or where to live. But I had always kind of had the final say. I guess it was just the natural pattern of things, one that we'd always followed without thinking or discussing things. But once she started regularly kicking my ass on the wrestling mats, usually before carrying me to bed and dominating me, other aspects of our lives started changing too. I mean, I had always harboured secret domination fantasies, I watched videos online and things but I never thought it would be a reality of my life. But now Steph had taken full control of our love life, quite literally, I really began to lean into it and open myself up to those parts of me I'd never allowed before. Steph for her pert helped with her renewed sexual appetite. The reality was we had never had this much sex. Not even when we were young. We were discovering a whole new life that neither of us had even realised we wanted. And it was exciting. For both of us. She thought up new ways to user her body and mine and we both delighted in playing together and indulging this new part of ourselves. It wasn't just the wrestling either. I had started to worship her. Both literally and figuratively. After one energetic bout of wrestling, Steph stood over me, then, with a curious look on her face, she put her foot on my face. I'd never had a thing for feet but within seconds, I was kissing and licking her foot and sucking on her toes, flat on my back, naked with my hard-on sticking straight up in the air. She looked down with me with a pleased look in her eyes, before she pulled her panties to the side and sat right on my face. She rocked herself to orgasm while I worked hungrily at her lips. When she came, she stood up, looked down at me and said, "What do you say?" I gazed up and her and responded, "Thank you... Mistress"
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Lysa Strata
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Lysa Strata They brought my sister Joanna to my home. They couldn't leave her at hers, she wouldn't be able to cope. Because Joanna was missing a leg. Lysa Strata decided to instigate a strike. A strike of women. No sex until the Forever War was ended.
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