John Ringo - Emerald Sea

There was a predator who had been stalking little girls. Most of them just postpubescent, as she was at the time. He’d sweet-talk them into a little cuddling, not sex, oh no. Then when their shields were down he would hurt them, confuse them, teleport them out to somewhere and keep hurting them, continuously, never letting them get a moment to even think about summoning shields. He’d rape them while he hurt them and then usually kill them. He’d made a mistake with one, finally, and she’d had just enough presence of mind to call her shields and teleport out so they finally understood what had been happening.

He’d gone into some pretty graphic detail, probably to convince her of the seriousness of the threat. She hadn’t liked it at the time and didn’t really like thinking about it now. But that was the answer. But if she managed to kill Paul, really kill him, brain dead fully, against the fight of his nannites, what would she do then? And how to do it, how to hurt him that badly?

She realized that while she had been dreaming Christel had gotten up without a word and left. Most of the other girls were getting to their feet and filing out as well.

“What about the plates and stuff?” she asked Shanea, who was getting up and taking Amber’s arm.

“The servants clear them,” Shanea said. “Come on, Ami.”

“That’s silly,” Megan replied, taking Amber’s other arm and pulling the girl, who was still eating in very small, fine bites, to her feet. “Why don’t we clear?”

“Because we can’t go in the kitchen,” Shanea replied. “You can’t pass through the door and it zaps you if you try.”

“Oh.” So much for that way out.

When they reached the main room, they found their sewing scattered all over the place. Her breast band and the other large piece she had intended for the skirt had been cut into ribbons as had the triangular piece Shanea was working on. Karie was standing over the damage with a smirk on her face.

“Oops,” the girl said, looking at Megan. “It looks like somebody had an accident.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Shanea said, getting down on her hands and knees and picking through the pillows. “But watch your feet, those pins could jab into your foot and really hurt you.”

Megan looked at the girl, standing there with a vicious smile, and then sensed someone moving up behind her. She suddenly looked to the side where Mirta was watching her from over the piece of complicated brocade she was sewing. The girl raised an eyebrow as if to say: “Okay, what are you going to do now?”

Megan gave her one, brief, hard look, which she was pretty sure Karie wouldn’t notice, and then… dissembled.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” she said, at her absolute meekest. “I think there’s a pin there on the floor by your feet.” She got down on her hands and knees, keeping her eye on the ground, and picked up the pin. “You need to watch yourself, really; you don’t want to get hurt.” All of this was said in the saddest little humble tone she could manage.

“Pathetic bitch,” Karie said, kicking her in the side.

Megan rolled with it expertly and came up on one knee in the most helpless pose possible. Amber’s knitting needle was right by one hand but she knew if she used that sort of weapon she wasn’t going to like the consequences. Two of the other girls had closed on her as well and she was just as positive that showing that much ability would make her a threat, to Christel if not to Paul. She was pretty sure she could turn all three into mincemeat, especially if she used nerve and joint techniques. But it would not be a good thing in any sort of long term.

“Oh, come on,” she whimpered, holding her hands up to Karie. “Can’t we be friends?”

“Like I’d be friends with a pathetic little bitch like you,” Karie replied. She darted forward and grabbed Megan’s hair, hard enough to bring tears to the girl’s eyes. “You think you’re better than me?”

“No, Karie,” Megan whined. The other two were standing back, letting the leader have the fun. “I just want to be your friend.”

“You’re gonna be my bitch is what you’re going to be,” Karie smirked. She pulled aside her robe and thrust her crotch in Megan’s face. “Lick it, bitch.”

“Karie,” Ashly drawled. “Get a room.”

“Okay, I will,” the girl said, dragging Megan to her feet by her hair and dragging her down one of the corridors. She pulled open the first door and threw Megan into the room.

“Down on your knees, bitch,” Karie said, striding over to Megan who had rolled, again, to one knee.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Megan whimpered.

“I’ll hurt you if I feel like it,” Karie said, catching her up by her hair again. “I won’t hurt you, much, if you lick me till I come.”

Megan whimpered again and then leaned forward, placing her left hand, lovingly, humbly, on Karie’s thigh and then driving a knuckle-punch upward into the girl’s crotch.

Women are very nearly as sensitive in the crotch area as men and, like men, it tends to take their breath away when struck there, hard. It certainly does so when followed up by a rock-hard fist to the solar plexus.

Then Megan really got to work on her.

“Mustn’t make marks,” Megan whispered as she pinched the base of the bully’s nose then drove another fist into the woman’s gut.

“Don’t want anyone getting upset,” she added, slamming one open palm into the girl’s right kidney followed by another to the left.

After the second kidney strike, Megan realized that she was letting her bad out just a little too much and wrapped the sadistic bitch up in an unbreakable hold that included some very nice joint work.

“Having fun?” she asked Karie, who was whimpering softly and half unconscious from the pain. The last kidney punch had probably been over the edge; the girl was likely to piss blood for a week.

“Moan,” Megan said.

“Wha…?”

“Moan!” Megan whispered, fiercely. “Like you’re having fun with your new girlfriend.” She increased pressure on the elbow joint until she felt sweat bead out on the other woman’s body. “You’re having fun with me right now, aren’t you?”

“I don’t…”

“Moan!” She gave the elbow an extra twitch and what came out was a gasp followed by a moan.

“I can take the whole lot of you, but I have no reason to want to,” Megan said, softly. “But you need to know that Megan’s the top bitch. Say it: Megan’s the top bitch.”

“Ooooooah!” Karie moaned. “I can’t…”

“Say it,” Megan snapped, bearing down on the wrist this time. “Megan’s the top bitch.”

“Megan’s the top bitch!” Karie gasped.

“Now moan like you’re having the orgasm of your life.”

“Oooooaaaahooooo…”

“Lousy acting,” Megan said, standing up by pressing a nerve point in the girl’s shoulder so hard she gasped. “When we go out there, your acting had better be better. You’d better have a big happy, I-just-came, post-orgasm smile on your face. Moan.”

“Ooooohhh…”

“Better. I’ll be crawling. Don’t think you can get your mad out because I’m on my hands and knees; you really don’t want me to show you how mean I can get. Who’s the top bitch?”

“Megan.”

“Moan.”

“Oooooohhhh…”

“Very good. Much better. I think you like this too much. Who’s Megan’s bitch?”

“Karie?”

“Bingo, moaner. Let’s hear a low, growly one this time.”

“I…”

“Loud!”

“Ooooooaaaagggaaaa!”

“Good. Now, fast pants, moans, and then orgasm gasp…”

“Ah, ah, ah, ooooo… ooo… ooooh, AAAAAH! Oh, my God!”