The Black Burqa illustrated, part six
"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 armour - armour much heavier than an ordinary man could carry. And that steel armour, 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 apologize 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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rifles
Kevlar
steel plate armour
AR-15
head shot
Black Burqas
hostage
mothers
deadly
police
excessive
punch
knee
rabbit punch
active shooter
gun
fingers
kill
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Price: 8.00 |
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part five
The Black Burqas go worldwide The problem was this. Even the most muscular Black Burqa, like Naamah, looked like any other woman in a burqa; that was the whole purpose of the garment. And no-one could tell who was wearing a black burqa as a fashion statement, and who was one of the muscle queens that could terrorise any man unlucky enough to find himself embraced by her thighs. But then something unusual happened. The Black Burqas have a web site, so that people can contact us and apply to be an official Black Burqa. We won't take just anyone who applies. You have to be able to bench press 300 kilograms, which neatly eliminates all men, as well as all women who don't have the musculature that every Black Burqa should have. This is prominently stated on the blackburqas.com web site. Of course, that web site is banned in most countries. I stood at the "incoming" area at the airport wearing my best black burqa. I noticed that men edged away from me nervously, but the women seemed to like being nearby. I didn't have to wait long before the flight from Chicago disgorged its passengers, and Phillida was obvious, because she was the only woman getting off that flight wearing a dark blue burqa. I stepped forward. "Phillida Watkins, I presume?" and we both laughed. "Coffee first," I said, and we went to the ridiculously over-priced airport coffee shop. "Your husband allows you out without a guardian?" she asked. I snorted. "Raafid allows me to do whatever I tell him to allow, He's tasted the crushing grip of my thighs, and he doesn't want to ever feel that again. But," I continued, "tell me about you." |
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Black Burqas
Naamah
muscle queens
web site
bench press
airport
Chicago
Phillida Watkins
guardian
Raafid
thighs
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Price: 8.00 |
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Rough sex at the gym
An Amazon acquires a new victim in the gym and has hot and heavy sex with her. When the victim's boyfriend tries to interfere, he is destroyed with a single punch. She drags her victim into the Ladies room, and gives her more sex than three women would be able to take; more than a dozen men could give. The boyfriend, recovered, tries to intervene again, so she breaks his arm. She takes her new girl and the boyfriend to hospital, where they hook up with a nurse that she knows, and the three women have powerful sex together while the impotent boyfriend watches from his hospital bed. |
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Amazon
victim
gym
hot
heavy sex
boyfriend
interfere
destroyed
single punch
Ladies room
more sex
three women
dozen men
recovered
intervene
breaks arm
hospital
hook up
nurse
powerful sex
impotent
watches
hospital bed
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Price: 8.00 |
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part four
The patriarchy become afraid of the Black Burqa movement, which is spreading rapidly. There's a media campaign, orchestrated by the Ministry of Truth. trying to discredit them. So the Black Burdas raid the Ministry of Truth and help the Minister to understand the true meaning of the Quran. Ayesha breaks one of his ribs, then squeezes him so hard that he can't breathe, and his bladder voids. They crushed the gates of the compound into a tangle of useless steel piled in a heap, and they left a black burqa there to show what had happened. |
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patriarchy
Black Burqa movement
spreading
media campaign
Ministry of Truth
discredit
Black Burdas
raid
Minister
true meaning
Quran
Ayesha
ribs
squeezes
breathe
bladder voids
crushed gates
compound
useless steel
heap
black burqa
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Price: 8.00 |
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part three
I was just burning some toast to go with the soggy beans for Raafid's supper, when Sfiyah turned up, and she had someone with her. Who? I don't know, she was dressed head to toe in a black burqa. "Hey," Sfiyah said. "Hey hey," I replied, "what's the timing for toast again?" She looked at what was pretty much charcoal. "About ten minutes ago," she answered, "this is Asma. She wants to be a Black Burqa." I blinked. A what? Apparently, my appearance at the masjid had led to some confusion, mostly because Sfiyah also wore a black burqa when she went there to douse the lights. So people already thought there were two of us, and if two, why not three? The great thing about a burqa, is that no-one could actually see me. It was like a disguise, only better. So no-one, except me and Sfiyah, knew the secret identity of the Black Burqa. I suppose Raafid might have guessed, but he was too intimidated by me to tell anyone. It must be terrible to live with someone who, at any time, might inflict painful violence on you. I know this, because that's how I had lived for years and years. "Who was that mysterious woman?" people were asking each other, and the guesses were all over the place. Every woman around here was wearing a niqab with a face veil; a burqa was only a small step further. Who was that masked woman? Asma spoke. "I've been through eight years of beatings. And each time he didn't kill me, he made me stronger. And now I want to be like you, a Black Burqa. I want to help all the women who are being trodden on and treated unjustly. We women are supposed to be treated like queens; too many of us get treated like serfs." |
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burning
toast
soggy beans
Raafid's supper
Sfiyah
someone
dressed
black burqa
timing
charcoal
Asma
appearance
masjid
confusion
two
three
burqa
disguise
secret identity
Black Burqa
Raafid
intimidated
painful violence
mysterious woman
guesses
niqab
face veil
masked woman
Asma
beatings
stronger
help
women
trodden on
treated unjustly
queens
serfs.
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Price: 8.00 |
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Jessica's birthday surprise
It's Jessica's birthday! And there's a nice surprise waiting for her - but maybe not so nice for Matty, her boyfriend. His weak body is no match for her powerful muscles, her crushing vagina or her smothering breasts. Jessica's friend Amy accompanied her to the Rose and Thorn, where they get into a fight with a bunch of bikers. |
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Jessica
birthday
surprise
Matty
boyfriend
weak body
powerful muscles
crushing vagina
smothering breasts
friend
Amy
Rose and Thorn
fight
bikers
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Price: 8.00 |
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part two
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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Sfiyah
visited
excited
task
bake a cake
rotten cook
Jawaria
married
Dawud
bruise
cheek
tap
lie
shame
admitting
husband
beats
remember
Raafid
problem
sisters
care
good reason
beat
point
what do you want me to do
Raafid him
marry off
Maryam
thirteen
lost my cool
trigger
abuse
help
why me
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Price: 8.00 |
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part one
My name is Ayesha. I am a pious Muslima, married to Raafid, my four off springs are Maryam, Gamali, Nasif and baby Kaadiha. I wear the veil, because I am a modest woman. I'm not smart like my friend Sfiyah. She seems to know everything. I read my Quran, and I'm still rather ignorant, unskilled and often I don't understand what people are saying. But I'm happy. At least, I was happy, until Raafid decided that he didn't like my cooking. To be honest, I don't blame him - cooking is one of the many skills I've never mastered. My food comes in two varieties, soggy or burned. So for the last two years, we've been at loggerheads. First, he spoke to me and told me to improve my cooking. I asked "How?" but he didn't have an answer. Then he tried to punish me by not joining me in bed. That's supposed to be a punishment? And when neither of those worked, he started beating me. They say that what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. That seemed to be true for me - I noticed that I was thickening in the places where the blows landed. And it was hard muscle, protecting my body from Raafid's rod. He kept it hanging on a hook on the wall, and I knew that when he took it down, I was in for another beating. |
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Ayesha
pious Muslima
married
Raafid
Maryam
Gamali
Nasif
baby Kaadiha
veil
modest
smart
Sfiyah
Quran
ignorant
unskilled
happy
cooking
blame
mastered
food
soggy
burned
loggerheads
improve
punish
bed
beating
kill
stronger
thickening
places
blows
muscle
protecting
body
Raafid
rod
hanging
hook
wall
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Price: 8.00 |
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The plough girl - part six
We stayed talking until dusk, and then I lifted him back into the wheelchair, and set off for his apartment. "Olga," he said. "Mmh?" I answered. "Don't look back but we're being followed," he told me. I looked back. Sure enough, two guys were keeping station on us about fifty yards back. "Olga," he said again. "What?" "It's an ambush. There's another two guys up front, trying to hide in doorways. Leave me and run for it." "I'm not leaving you to get beaten up. That's my job," I joked. "Olga, this is serious. Four that I've spotted, and there could be others. And I don't think they're waiting to play patty-cake. Run for your life." No way. Plough girls aren't cowards. Gary had suffered enough at my hands, it was clearly on me to look after him. I wasn't going to leave him to the mercy of these four toughs. But I could see a way to even the odds a bit. I did a u-turn, and ran back the way we'd come. Clearly, the thugs weren't expecting me to run towards danger, so at first, they didn't know what to do. Ten seconds later I was in front of them. I kicked one of them in the head, which is a dangerous thing to do, because I could lead to a fatality, and the other one in the groin. He folded up nicely and I smashed my two fists into the back of his head as he went down. He hit the pavement, and lay still. By then, the other two had arrived, and I could see two more running towards me. This was good; two at a time is better than four at once. I left Gary and the two thugs I'd already handled, and met the first two before they could realise their mistake. I'm six foot three, and my legs are a lot longer than their arms. Which is just as well, because they were both armed with baseball bats, and looked like they were ready to use them. So I used the reach of my legs to kick one of them in the side, and there was a satisfying crack as his ribs broke. The other one swung his bat at me and connected. He hit my left shoulder, and my left arm went numb. But I grabbed his bat with my right hand and jerked it towards me. He had two choices, hold on or let go. Both choices were bad. If he let go, I would be armed and he not. So he hung on to the bat, and was jerked forward enough so that my raised knee could crash into his genitals. Strike four. The last two arrived, out of breath, and split up. One of them went for Gary, the other one pulled a knife and threatened me with it. So I picked up thug four and threw him at thug five, which I don't think he expected, and I followed up with a broken knife arm, so he dropped his weapon. A fist to the belly took him out of action, leaving thug six, who had wisely decided to make a run for it. |
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talking
dusk
wheelchair
apartment
followed
ambush
toughs
danger
fists
baseball bats
knife
run
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Price: 8.00 |
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Ruthenia mission
Zrinka Ryovska is six foot nine and built like a bull. She comes from Ruthenia, visits a geek, and explains to him that he is going to be a voluntary sperm donor to a million Ruthenian women. To make this possible, Zrinka will send a bodyguard to protect him - Magda, nearly seven feet tall, her muscles hardened by twenty years of pulling an 800 pound plough through hard scrabble ground. And Mikayla, a milkmaid, six feet four. She was able to bring a well-trained man to orgasm thirty times in a day's activity. |
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Zrinka Ryovska
six foot nine
Ruthenia
geek
sperm donor
bodyguard
Magda
seven feet tall
muscles
plough
Mikayla
milkmaid
well-trained man
orgasm
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Price: 8.00 |
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