SCARLETS DOMAIN

The river gurgled over stones, broad and shallow as it made its lazy way through the flat grasslands that bordered the post-Apocalypse jungle in its bath of heat. It was equally sweltering on the brown, parched plains but cool by the river at this early evening hour. Miki paused to squat by the bank and cup up some water to quench her thirst. She was a novice Tagalog warmaiden, a slim brown-skinned Filipina bandit-girl, her jet-black hair tied in a swishing pony-tail. She stretched luxuriously, enjoying the kiss of the warm, black- leather waistcoat against her skin. The short kilt of studded leather straps brushed her lithe thighs. Life was good; she hummed happily as she tightened the knee-high lacing of her black sandals and, for about the tenth time that day, drew her short, broad-bladed sword and admired its sharp point. To have passed the test, to be no longer a mere acolyte but a novice warbabe; she could hardly believe it was true. And today she was going with a message for Kika, the bandit-queen, who was supervising the building of a fortified watch- tower close to the rainforest's dangerous edges. Again for the tenth time she checked the parchment scroll that sat sweetly between her pert little teenage tits. If she kept up a jog in the evening cool she would reach the ford before sunset. Bathed in beams of golden light, Miki set off to carry out her first duty as a novice.

At the ford, Kika was relishing putting the six male slaves through their paces. She strode up and down as they toiled in the heat, barking commands, urging greater speed. The tower of rough-hewn tree-trunks was almost complete: it stood about ten feet high and the parapet round the broad platform was being lashed together. Her three companions, Loki, Tenka and Leya, lounged nearby, giggling to see the six men with their muscles rippling and skin sweating, cringing under the lash of Kika's tongue and her sjambok. They were making derisory comments about the manhood of the slaves in their scanty blue loincloths. 'That one's no good for anything...look, you can see how small it is from here. He's hardly got one at all.' sneered Leya. Tenka grinned, 'Yeah, but look at the shaft in that tall one's cloth...see, the one Kika's helping along with a quick flick over the shoulders.' 'Mmmmm, wow! Superstud! I bet the whip's doing great things for his dick,' laughed Loki. What with smutty banter and Kika's raucous yells and the crack of her lash and the hammer of nails in wood no-one heard the drumbeat of swift hooves until the six Picts were upon them....and that was too late.

The Pict chicks galloped in upon the Tagalog party, their plaited red hair flying as they thundered past, bareback on their sturdy ponies. Their faces were painted half blue and their proud bare breasts bore the blue horse outline of their clan. A blue whorl was painted on their flat bellies and they wore short tartan kilts and deerhide thongs from ankle to knee. Their barbaric jewelry was made of animal teeth threaded on strips of hide and it clicked noisily as they charged in, necklaces and bracelets clattering. The leader, Bradan, hurled her short hunting spear with its broad, leaf-shaped tip and took Loki in the left breast. As the blood ran out over her black leather waistcoat she howled her last, clasping the spear-shaft tight with both hands, almost pushing the broad blade deep into her sweet young tit. She was kicking on her back, her thick black pubic delta displayed as the Picts rode past her. Cruaidh swung her long sword in a punishing arc that caught Tenka on the neck, slitting her pale slender throat from ear to collar bone. The Tagalog babe gurgled horribly as the red lifeblood hosed from the wound and she slumped, a convulsing wreck of a once-proud warbabe, writhing in the dust. .Her luscious buns were revealed as she lay prone, pouring her blood into a pool in which her pretty face lay, her eyes staring wildly as she died.Leya had drawn her sword and was parrying the thrusts of Dragh when she was speared in the back by Olc. The broad blade thrust in straight through her skinny brown body, the tip jutting, blood-wet, from her leather top. She rolled up her dark eyes and croaked out her life in a cough of blood that sprayed from her gaping lips. Sgarbh and Tuagh clattered on to take Kika but they were dealing with a class act. The long lash of the sjambok spat out like black leather lightning to grip the sword-arm of Sgarbh; with a mighty tug the red-head was plucked from her speeding pony and crashed to the ground with a sickening crack. She rolled over, her kilt round her waist, her quim frizzed with her teenage pubic hair. The angle of her head, the glazed, open eyes told their own story. Now Kika had only Tuagh to deal with : she drew her sword and let the enraged Pict, furious at the death of her bed-mate, ride wildly at her. As Tuagh sped past, her long sword missing Kika with a hiss as it sang through the air, the Tagalog bandit-queen spun round and lunged up into the small of the Pict girl's back. The blow lifted Tuagh from the pony and over the other side. The last thing she knew as she lay dazed in the dirt was Kika's blade plunging into her navel, through her slight body and burying its tip in the earth, transfixing and gutting her neatly.She arched her back in a spasm of agony as her blood gushed from her wounds, driving herself further onto the broad blade, thrusting her blue-painted bare belly up along its razor sharpness, screaming her death cries again and again till she flopped back, arms and legs sprawling, a butchered warrior.

The four remaining Picts surrounded Kika. The men stood huddled in a knot of fear. The bandit-queen prepared to sell her life dearly.Bradan swung off her pony and drew her long, thin-bladed sword. 'You and me, at last,' she grinned. The men stared in horror as the two vixens clashed: saw the thrusts, parries, ripostes, the swrves and side-steps, the swings and lunges that left both girls winded and sweating, Kika with her top slit open and a slit across her brown belly, Bradan with a gash on her left upper arm. Kika was older, more experienced, a great tactician in full-scale battle, but her days as a gladiatrix were in the past. Now she was losing blood and strength from her wound and Bradan's long blade gave her the advantage. Wiping the sweat from her glistening face the Pict hurled herself at Kika. The Tagalog chick gave ground, retreating to the wooden watch-tower. With her back to the warm bark she found Bradan's sword-point at her throat. She dropped her weapon and said nothing. No use to plead with a wild cat. 'Your throat, is it? Or your bare beaten belly? Or in your hot heart, vixen?' mused the Pict chieftain. 'Wherever, bitch. Just finish it' spat Kika. Bradan went white, her freckles standing out against her pallor as she wiped the phlegm from her face. 'You will pay dearly, you shitty slut,' grated the redhead through clenched teeth. The long sword stayed at Kika's throat and she eyed it cooly. Bradan stepped a little closer and her sgian dubh, taken from her kilt belt, was thrust into the Tagalog's crotch. Kika's head went back, her hands clawed the wooden wall behind her and she felt the terrible pain of her slit snatch.The wound was agony, but the knife-blade short. As Kika spread her long legs in her ache, Bradan knelt and drove her sword as far as its blade would go up into the Tagalog queen's quim. As steel tore through hrt tripes Kika writhed like a wounded snake, thrashing around till the blade was roughly tugged out and she was released to die in a wriggling contortion of searing, blistering fire, her lissome loins filled with lava of agony that poured and scorched its way through her wrecked womanhood. A kick from Bradan's foot rolled her onto her back so that she could see her killer triumph, a bare foot pressing hard on her brown heaving belly.

The bodies of the Tagalog chicks were slung over the ponies' necks. The men were swiftly dispatched, their throats slit and their bodies dumped in the tower which was then set ablaze. All save the well-hung slave admired by the warbabes. He had his hands bound by hide thongs and was pulled along behind Bradan as the survivors of the Pict war party made their way to their camp.She felt she deserved some pleasure that night; her bed had been empty since Kika had killed her girl-lover.