SCARLETS DOMAIN

The body guard of the queen struck the battle like a chainsaw ripping through soft wood. Karramanneh spearheaded the onslaught, pushing and thrusting her way to the middle of the bridge where she stood, tall, proud and cruel, shield and scimitar at the ready, surrounded by the rear guard of young novice fox chicks. Behind her Adabba in her red armour led the gold bikini-clad Nubian warbabes into the fight. Upward slash: a Vixen gutted from navel to ribcage and toppling onto her back in agony as the blood splashed in spurts from her slit belly; then a left handed downward slice that severed the jugular of a nearby Vixen who reeled off the bridge, blood hosing from her slashed throat as she spun through the air. Then straight into the chest of her next opponent, cutting free the fox-skin bra and baring tattooed tits. Beside her fought Maila in a gold chainmail dress and helmet and Kalinka in black leather breastplate, hotpants and thigh boots with spike heels. The plump blonde was using a short spear to good effect, lifting up a young fox babe, impaled through the navel and holding her high as she squealed in staring horror at the scarlet spurting from her entrails. Insolently the blonde tossed her victim over the edge of the bridge and grinned to hear her yells as she fell into the void. Kalinka was equipped with a samurai sword and skillfully had a band of Vicious Vixens on the run from her glittering blade, soon stained with fox-girl blood, a trail of gutted sluts lying behind her as she advanced. She was, however the first of the leading fighters to meet her fate. As she swung her blade elegantly to disembowel a quivering and howling opponent a wounded little bitch threw a hunting knife with her last strength and took the cow in the crotch. Kalinka’s black-helmeted head was flung back, her contorted lips shrieking vicious pain all that the black visor revealed. Blood was coursing down her pale thighs and into her glossy ebony boots from her slit split. The saw-edged hunting knife was buried in her body up to its bone handle, steel was tearing into her pussy with incredible pain. She took in the girl she had gutted convulsing on the bridge in front of her and let her sword drop with a clatter. Her legs gave way and she sank onto her knees grappling with the hilt of the heavy knife, vainly trying to pull death from her womb. A spasm rocked her black-clad body as an artery loosed its life-blood in a spray of scarlet from her wound; with a last gurgle in her throat she fell forward, dead and done for. Beside her a Nubian bodyguard had split the shaft of a Vixen’s light throwing spear and then thrust hard at defenceless bare belly, the scimitar slicing through and exiting as a wicked curve of blood-sleeked steel. The little bitch wailed in shock, her arms flung high above her head. The Nubian’s thick yellow-painted lips opened in a smile of triumph and then, in final revenge, her victim brought down the javelin head with all the strength of a dying and despairing war-babe. It drove through the gold helmet with a screech of tearing metal. Blood squirted from the eye-slits, gushed out from the visor, pouring from both flared nostrils, sprayed from clenched teeth. The Nubian’s sexy body sagged and she pissed herself as she and the fox-chick collapsed together, the Vixen on top, her little fox tail flirting as her pelvis convulsed, almost as though she was fucking the dying guard and then both were still.

Ahead of them Karramanneh was challenging the lithe and pale-faced little teen-tarts of the Vixen rearguard. ‘C’mon, you cheeky little bitches, try some of my queenly steel! You little sluts, you stink of filth! C’mon and let me end your smelly little lives!’ The fox-chicks hissed and spat like angry cats then launched their attack on the solitary figure in gold breastplate, thong and helmet. With a sideways flick of the wrist Karramanneh slit the first girl’s belly open from side to side. She stumbled, clutching her horrific wound, gazing at the spurting blood as she sank onto all fours at her killer’s gold-sandalled feet, blood gurgling from her orange lips. With a crash her sister fell flat beside her, neck broken by a blow from the queen’s golden shield, her head lolling limp and ghastly. As the gashed girl crawled near to the queen’s slender feet another Vixen flopped beside her, throat mangled by a thrust that went straight out the back of her neck. Drenched in this babe’s blood the first victim of the queen collapsed, saw the golden toenails of her killer before her swimming eyes and kissed them with bloody lips, a last tribute to a butcher bitch. The queen was dancing and whirling, slashing, stabbing, using her shield to as good effect as her razor-sharp scimitar. She winded one girl with it and then brought the edge down on the neck as she doubled over. With her spine snapped she fell like a pole-axed steer. All around the gold-clad queen lay a pile of pretty corpses, gutted, skewered, smashed, all wallowing in plenty of blood and piss. Some were still barely alive and their writhing convulsions added to the horror of the scene. Bare limbs sprawled, heads lolled, lips gaped, eyes stared sightlessly at the sky. At last, the virgin tribute of the Vixen clan had been paid. No opponents were left to face Karramanneh. She turned and watched the last few fox-chicks perish at the hands of her Nubians, their oiled black bodies glistening with sweat.

Maila was enjoying herself; a girl had gone over the edge, taking her spear with her, driven so hard into her tits that it would not come out, and she was kneeling at the very edge of the bridge playing an evil game with a Vixen who clung in terror to the last, outermost log, hanging almost by her fingertips, her long bare legs dangling, her little fox tail swishing as she swung in panic, feeling the blonde’s fingers working to pry loose her terrified grasp on the bloody wood. Behind Maila the last of the Vixens had faced up to Adabba only to fall, slashed from neck to navel, her fur bra fluttering free from the slicing scimitar’s swift stroke. She was on her knees groaning in pain and the captain of the Nubians gave her a last slash across her pale stretched throat. The fox-chick sagged over in death and the tip of Adabba’s blade nicked the plump buttock of Maila. The blonde shrieked and tumbled forward, her flabby body taking her over the edge. The screaming Vixen dangling from the bridge clawed at her tormentor and clutched her outstretched hands. Both babes fell over and over, hand in hand down and down into the cold cruel sea beneath them.

‘Arrest this traitor!’ barked the queen, pointing at the captain of her guard. ‘You have lost us our chief and most beloved adviser, the companion of my bed tonight! You will pay a high price for your foolish treachery, you arrogant and haughty bitch!’

Adabba was grabbed by two of her own men, her red helmet torn off, her armour stripped and her glorious chocolate body bared in all its tall and voluptuous beauty. Her gold-dyed pubic bush was revealed for all to see, her nipples and labia pierced with gold rings. Her big black eyes filled with tears of shame. She felt no fear; fear came from ignorance and she knew what the queen had in mind for prisoners like herself.

The Lapland witch was in a dungeon which admitted just enough light to be sinister, more sinister than sheer darkness. ‘A crepuscular penumbra,’ she murmured and smiled. Her old lover would have described it like that, the sweet pompous old thing. She knew he was nearby; she hoped he would do nothing foolish; she knew he would do anything for her; she wished she had not hurt him so badly in the past…but she had to leave, forced herself, against her own wishes, desires, lust, to leave him. It was all a mess and she knew that it would get worse before it got better. She shifted her shapely haunches on the cold stone floor and stretched her long and slender legs in the straw. The door opened and something bare and black and shiny was flung onto its face on the floor. The door grated shut, bolts were hammered to, silence returned to the cell. The tall black girl rolled over to display breathtakingly beautiful boobs. ‘I feel defiled; I am defiled.’ She spoke in a monotone. ‘Anal rape from the queen….constant, public, humiliating abuse of my body and my spirit. Defiled and degraded. She will pay dearly for her use of my body. That is all. No waste of breath in threats. I will act.’

The witch looked solemnly at her new cell-mate for a long time, communing in silence, reading her mind and soul. ‘I am Sirkka. You will act and it will be soon. A great evil is building up for this queen. Much blood will flow. All is dark, dark and swirling with smoky blood. My powers forbid me to see beyond it…but it will be a great and savage slaughter….and soon, very soon.’