Part 1

Nigel Charleston, a Sergeant in the mighty British Army, scoffed at his orders. He read the paper handed to him by his commanding officer again and again, just to make sure that the intense heat of the jungle and pestilence carried by the many biting insects wasn't clouding his mind to the point of hallucination. He'd thought he'd seen things before, after all, war is bad enough, and in these horrid conditions, it only got worse. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to clear his head. There had to have been a mistake. Still, when he opened his eyes and stared at the yellowed piece of paper yet again, the same look of disbelief crossed his face. At least this time it sunk in that there was no mistake as to what was written on the page. "They want us to go in there and slaughter a village full of women," he mumbled to himself, crumpling the sheet of paper and tossing it aside. "Killing armed men is bad enough, this must be..." He didn't finish his sentence. He was speaking to no one, and there was no one to hear him. He was perhaps repeating the order out loud merely to see if it sounded less preposterous when spoken, rather than written. To his ears, at least, it did not. Killing women. They were not the French, or even the Americans. They were the British. They respected the codes of warfare. They fought an honorable war. Did this make any sense in an honorable war? He stepped outside of the stuffy tent into the equally stuffy outside, the buzz of the various noisy animals in the nearby jungle echoing through his ears. He was thankful that at least he did not have to carry out this heinous order today. No, today's order was merely to take a small group of men and go investigate the village. To "ascertain its threat," as it was put. He hoped he could take this opportunity to convince his superiors that there was no threat. Early the next morning, Nigel Charleston emerged from his tent along with his small group of men. His firm, muscular chest and strong arms were hidden by his perhaps overly elaborate British military uniform, awkward to be sure, but part of what was necessary in fighting an honorable war. Or so he was told. He picked up his rifle, fixing the bayonet. Just in case. His wide brow glistened with a thin layer of sweat, casting a shadow on his deep blue-green eyes. He wiped the sweat off of his brow and his unshaven face with a quick motion of his hand, surveying the jungle before him. Motioning to his men, he trudged forth, disappearing between the lush green canopy. The jungle's heat was nearly choking, made no better by their stuffy uniforms, that much was certain, but they managed to maintain a steady pace. Nigel stopped for a moment to check his compass. The village was supposedly just ahead. He motioned for his men to hang back a bit, he figured he could just go in himself. That would minimize their chances of detection. He didn't anticipate any trouble, but in the event that it did arise, his men were close enough they could arrive before too long. The odds having been weighed and the best result determined in his mind, in a fraction of a second, Nigel pressed onward. He diverged from the trail slightly, not wanting anyone walking along in the opposite direction to spot him. This move soon proved to be to his advantage. He placed his hand on his brow and studied the trail ahead carefully from his hiding place next to it, and he was certain that he saw motion in the distance. He focused on it, intently watching it, it seemed to be a human. Was this one of these mysterious women that was such a great threat to them? He could not tell, as the motion was still too distant, however, whatever it was, it was getting closer. And quickly. Nigel backed up slightly, further into the brush, trying to avoid any chance of being seen. The form grew closer. Definitely human. Perhaps it was the fear and apprehension rising in him from actually being out in the field, from actually perhaps facing his mysterious foe for the first time, but he began to wonder if the order given was not more informed than he had first thought. Still closer. There was only one way to find out, Nigel reasoned to himself, his mind racing. He calmed himself, checking to make sure his cover was as thorough as he thought it was-- and it was. And the form approached. It was definitely a woman. However, it was not any kind of woman that Nigel could ever remember having seen in his life. She was tall, impossibly tall. She was of Asian ethnic stock, presumably, from her face and hair, but it was difficult to tell. The aforementioned hair was jet black and wild, cascading down her bare back in untamed waves. She wore nothing save for a tight thong low on her hips. The rest of her bronzed, toned body was completely visible, and Nigel could not help but be captivated by it, even if for but a moment. She had the body of an expert athlete through and through, including small, flat breasts, a tight, toned stomach, and muscled arms and legs. Yet, amid all of this, her womanly contours were barely hidden, giving her a seductive and exotic allure Nigel could barely imagine. Her nipples, a deep mocha color, were pierced with some sort of animal bones, the same sort that were apparently in her ears and around her neck. As if to snap him out of his vision of her loveliness, the last thing Nigel noticed was the spear she carried in her right hand. There was blood on the point. She was making quite good time, and worse yet, she was heading for his men, who appeared to be milling about unawares of what approached. He could not call out to them, as that would clearly indicate there was human life present. He weighed his options for a few moments, but as her pace showed no sign of letting up, he did the only thing he could. He created a distraction. He located a brittle, dry stick, stepping on it as hard as he could. As he predicted, the snap attracted her attention. She turned, her pace slowed, she studied the jungle before her. Not as Nigel had studied it previously, as a man, but as an animal. An animal on the prowl. Nigel predicted that the stick would attract her attention. What he did not predict was how quickly she was able to ascertain the origin of the noise, and close in. She narrowed her eyes, her lovely face appearing instead to be that of an animal, her teeth bare, her eyes glowing with a fire almost otherwordly. He pondered for an instant firing a pre-emptive shot, but he feared that would attract more of them. Therefore, he did all he could, he hoped until the last second, beyond all hope, that she had seen something else, that she was merely heading his direction and not for him; but that was all in vain. She raised her spear and brought it down with strength beyond that of any woman Nigel had ever known, and quite a few men at that. It was all he could do to parry the thrust with his bayonet. He thought himself fairly skilled at the art of hand-to-hand combat, but yet, this woman was able to deprive him of his bayonet in short order. He mentally cursed himself for not firing that shot when he had the chance, rolling out of the way of yet another thrust with the spear. He tried to stand, but she was upon him like a blur. He tried to shout for his men, but one of the chief components of the assaulting blur was a hand clamping securely over his mouth, silencing him. She stood, pulling him close to her. He was close enough to her that he could smell her. She smelled like the wild, the jungle. More animal than human. It was the scent of instinct. And yet, there was something unmistakably feminine to her scent. An animal lust forgotten by all of the women Nigel had ever associated with. And, as it was her instinct to emit it, it was his to seek it, a fact which he realized quite suddenly while he was in her grasp. Some distance away, he did not know how far or in which direction, she threw him down in a clearing. He tried to crawl away, but her foot, powered by her strong leg, immobilized him. She glared down at him with her eyes. They were black, infinitely deep pools. There were not serene pools, though, there was turbulence and activity in them beyond Nigel's understanding, and even beyond his awareness, for in such a primal environment much of what he took in was not being processed by his conscious mind, but a more fundamental layer. That which governs the instincts we humans try so hard, and yet fail time and time again, to repress. The beast within her had surfaced long ago, and now it was speaking directly to the one deeply hidden within him. She raised her spear, bringing it down on him. For a split-second, he thought this was the end, but the spear only barely grazed his flesh; instead it tore the uniform wide open. She rended it asunder in a matter of seconds, casting the tatters aside with more expert motions of her spear. All the while, he felt himself being pierced by her infinite gaze. His eyes locked upon hers, and though every passing second of staring into her turbulent orbs increased his fear, he knew that he could not look away. His chest now as bare as her own, she dropped down to his level, setting her spear aside, but nearby. She gazed into his eyes, never breaking the stare either. Her hands reached out and massaged his muscled, slightly sweaty chest, her long claw-like fingernails dancing across it. She kept one hand on his chest, caressing it almost lovingly, while the other reached behind and started to rub herself through the small, tight thong she wore. Nigel's eyes eventually broke the stare long enough to glance down her body, and here is where he saw the new object for his gaze. He stared at her moving, sliding hand at least as intently as he had gazed into her eyes, watching her expert manipulations increase the size of the wet spot now forming on the fabric. She became aware of his staring, and with a swift motion tore the one piece of clothing she wore from herself. That revealed her most primal and yet most beautiful feature, her wildly overgrown womanhood. Like a microcosm of the untamed jungle around them, she was in her natural state, her black hair having grown out into a large inverted triangle. Unlike the jungle, which emitted a variety of scents, some of them sweet, most of them repulsive, she emitted but one scent, and it served only to draw him in further. Another swift motion, another blur, and the scent had become a taste, the forest he had first laid eyes on only moments before was now pressed against his face. She pressed downward on him, letting out soft animalistic moans while she ground her soft, wet lips against his. She gasped as he started to lick, perhaps an almost instinctual response. She pressed down harder, starting to rock up and down a little, her grinding growing more intense. She was so, so wet, he could barely drink down all she offered before she produced another deluge. It was as though he was taking something forbidden, a child's first drink of alcohol. For, like the child with the alcohol, though the taste was vile and repulsive, the scent was intoxicating and the very fact that it would normally be forbidden was irresistable. And so, like the child, he drank his fill and then some, lapping eagerly at all she had to offer. When her flower blossomed, rising from its hiding place in response to her growing lust, he quickly angled his head to lap at it eagerly. Pleasure rose from her loins and tore through her body, and she moaned again. Though they had not spoken, though they spoke different languages, some things were too universal to not be understood. This was one of them. Pure instinct. Pure lust. Nigel sucked hard on the hard little pebble that was the source of her desire and her pleasure, and her grinding against his face increased. He pondered for an instant that perhaps he would suffocate down here, smothered by her moisture and her scent, but that thought left him as quickly as it had occurred to him. His desire to lick her won out, and several more hard sucks on her engorged flower sent her screaming into ecstasy. Her screams were as primal as they were beautiful, her entire body shuddering as she had reached the highest point of her pleasure. A blast of her warm, bittersweet concotion rushed out, and he gagged trying to swallow it all. All throughout her orgasm she ground eagerly against his face, stopping only when the last bit of her pleasure subsided. He was nearly delirious from the heat of the jungle as well as her own heat, and the rancid yet addictive taste and smell, so by the time he was fully aware of his surroundings, she was long gone. He sat up, noting the state of his uniform, and his face. As the fact that what he had done was not some bizarre erotic nightmare but what had just transpired some minutes ago came back to him, he knew that these women would be unlike any enemy that he had ever faced... if even they were truly an enemy...