rder Skirmish
Lisa was on the prowl around El Paso, Texas, where she could find the border to Mexico. She knew from the public presidential address that border patrol was not a high priority, even though illegal marauders could storm from the sandy hills at any moment, flailing around firearms and shrieks of death.
And that's exactly what happened.
Lisa readyed her AK-47 off to the horizon, packing thousands of bullets for fun. With decent armor covering her vitals and flattening her C-cup breasts, she was confident her training at the range would ensure her triumph.
The faceless sand people charged the barbed wire fences and blasted anything in front of them except the sand they were charging on. Lisa clenched the trigger and sprayed her volley at them, nailing at least half her shots at over a hundred yards into targets. Wave after wave, she stood alone against the sand and the increasingly massive waves of invaders. It began to seem as if all the drug cartels conspired to breech the least protected part of the border.
As the forces kept growing closer to the gates, she was giggling and squealing from the carnage with bullets constantly whizzing past her body. Her armor soaked at least half a dozen bullets, but she pressed on, constantly reloading as fast as possible.
A half an hour later, the attacking numbers must have at least reached the hundreds, and she was still standing alone against the onslaught. She ran out of bullets and stood firmly until engaging in hand-to-hand combat. She snapped many arms and heads before physical exhaustion consumed her, leaving her panting and crying beneath the flood of terror. She screamed as her own limbs were yanked as hard away from her as possible without outright ripping them out. After a series of bashes to the head from four rifle butts assaulting her at at the same time, she eventually passed out.
When she woke, she could not believe she was still alive. She found herself stripped completely naked, breasts dangling and every sensitive body part exposed. She huffed and squirmed, but to no avail as all her wrists and ankles were cuffed to the X-shaped board. She looked around and saw the bare concrete walls and sharp tools on the table not too far away.
The solid door from afar creaked open and in walked a dark man with oil-slicked hair. He was holding a loaded Desert Eagle in his hand. The man scowled and he spoke in a voice that was so quiet, the contrast with expectations scared Lisa. He said, "Hola, I am Vasquez, leader of the operation. There was supposed to be no resistance, and yet, when I heard a couple hundred of my men were slaughtered by a single person, I knew I needed to speak to this person."
His voice began to rise in volume as he asked, "How did you know about this, and why?" She smirked and sneered. She taunted, "Even if I knew, you think I'd answer?" He gritted his teeth and bashed her breasts with the handle of his pistol. She cried out from the violation of her tender lobes. And yet, she could not help but grin. She chuckled, "It was fun killing for the sake of killing." She asked, "How can you speak English?" That was answered with a bash from his pistol to her skull and the biting remark of, "I'm the one asking the questions here!" She shrieked in pain and jerked her neck from the bash.
He jammed the barrel of the pistol into her belly button and boomed, "Tell me or I'll shoot your fucking guts out!" She beamed and squealed, "Please do! I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I walked out of an interrogation unscathed."
He was initially stunned from shock by her comment, but after reorienting himself, he lived up to his threat. He pulled the trigger and the pistol banged, rattling the whole room. She roared and cried as her inners were torn apart from the bullet drilling into her squishy flesh. All her limbs tightened instinctively to brace against the pain, but her bind kept her from crumpling. As blood slowly poured onto the floor, her groaning was a mix of genuine pain combined with the same moaning pleasure from a sensual massage. In fact, it became clear she was wailing the same moaning sounds as any female would while mating.
He tried the same approach again, except this time, he trained his pistol onto her clitoral hood. He spoke again in his disturbingly quiet voice, "I will ask again, tell me how you knew, or I'll make sure you'll never have any babies." She bolted, "Go ahead and penetrate me." While each of her hands were working on an exposed screw from their respective cuffs, he chuckled evilly then he shot her again. The second bullet made her scream louder than the last time, shredding her vaginal canal and cervix as well as rupturing her uterus.
She was now drenched in her own blood, sweat, and tears. And yet, she couldn't stop grinning ear to ear. Just as he puts the pistol to her temple, she finished working on the screws. She jabs both of them into both of his eyes, making him scream and reach for his eyes. She took this chance to snatch his neck with her now-freed arms and twisted as hard as she could, shattering the upper spine. With the threat dead, she looted his body and swiped all the keys to the complex. It was much easier to free up her feet with the keys.
Both her voice and body were quivering from the lingering pain signals coming from throughout her center mass. She limped around, tearing off the man's clothes for makeshift bandaging while wearing whatever she didn't shred, and she used the Desert Eagle to slowly begin her escape.
There were not a lot of guards, as nobody expected her to survive, never mind attempt an escape. Those who were present were always either by themselves or with no more than a single partner. She easily shot them in the head, one after the other. Those in the other rooms hearing the shots assumed it was just the boss having his way with the "delicate girl".
As she kept pressing further and killing more minions, she kept looting their bodies and taking their guns and weapons. Oddly enough, she stumbled into their stash of goodies, which included varying illegal drugs such as cocaine and opium, one medkit, and a small flask of whiskey. She patched her wounds more thoroughly with the medkit while also removing the bullets buried deep within her chest cavities, she gulped the alcohol, and she reclaimed her old gun as well as her armor. She hooted when the alcohol kicked her in the head and taste buds, and she literally shook it off, banging her head for a second. She suited back up with her modest armor and kept pushing outward from the base.
Finally, after a dozen more sleeping or drugged "guards", she crawled out of the bunker and the setting sun kissed her sand-blasted face. Heading "home" was a simple matter of knowing that Mexico was south of the USA, and thus knowing the Sun sets to the west, she just had to turn 90 degrees to the right of the sunset and march.
All that was left before she was literally home free was to pass the border patrol. That meant confiscation of her AK-47 and a thorough search, but with ID and passport ready to prove her citizen status, she was welcomed back into Texas with relatively little hassle.
In the end, she recovered perfectly, even though the stitches and bullet wounds left her with a couple of circle scars on her lower body. She sat down in her favorite chair and toasted herself to her new epic exploit.
. But a graze?
