War Of The Worlds II part 6
- 3 years ago
- 12
- 0
War Of The Worlds II - Part 4 free porn video
Part 4 - Saturday into Sunday - The Day of the Invasion.
I checked my watch - ten past ten. "We have a problem, ladies and gentlemen. The game is afoot."
There were surprised noises from the lighted table. And then a few seconds of silence as it sank in.
The Admiral insisted that he be allowed to view the scene next, to confirm my prognosis. "What a blasted lucky coincidence that we should be here to raise the alarm," he said after indeed confirming that there were what appeared to be several thousand alien spacecraft just leaving the moon. By sheer luck, it would appear that we had witnessed the start of the invasion.
Obviously, the other military personnel were required to confirm too, as they quickly did. Followed by the Prime Minister. Although his eyesight was no longer as sharp as it used to be, he did see the approaching rockets emerging from the dark side of the moon, just exactly from the locations that the ladies had forecast, plumes of green smoke showing their route.
After the briefest conversation, the Prime Minister, giving his most gracious thanks to the ladies especially, and the military personnel all left in a great hurry to steel the nation and call out the guard.
We five were left to close up the Observatory and turn off the lights.
The Contessa hugged Annie and Walter and insisted that they take our carriage since they had small children to get home to. Annie burst into tears at this and Walter stood there thanking her profusely. She hurried them on their way. "Go. Kiss the little darlings for me!"
They promised, as they scurried out the door, to send the carriage back for us post haste. Without a word being said between us three it was obvious that we expected never to see the coachman again - he would have his own family to get home to.
We started walking, eating another slice of pizza and finishing off our drinks. As we emerged from the park, we heard the first peels of alarm ringing from the nearest church. I offered around my Sweet Vs and we stood for a minute, enjoying a last moment before all hell would doubtless break loose.
As the alarm spread from parish to parish and church to church, sleepy, scared looking people came out to see what the fuss was all about. Mothers in nighties tried to calm screaming children, fathers in their pyjamas rubbed their eyes, children cried, grandmothers fussed, dogs barked at the commotion, cats hissed at anything and everything - the flotsam and jetsam of humanity clamoured to find out what was going on.
We hurried along back towards Tower Bridge, heading at my suggestion to my Harley Street practice - I knew that I would need my medical skills that night and I had all of my general practitioner's equipment there, and a large amount of analgesics.
As we progressed through Greenwich to Deptford there was a change in feeling around us. I had expected panic in the streets as everyone tried to get out of London, away from the inevitable death and destruction. Exactly what had happened the last time. But no!
People were getting organized - each street appeared to have a plan and everyone knew their part in it.
Barricades were being built from people's furniture at strategic points. Men were carrying bedframes and wardrobes, sofas and sideboards and big heavy tables from house after house and building them high, building them wide, building them robust. Rusty old carriages shored up on piles of house bricks were found in back gardens and taken through for the cause. Old women looked after the children who were too young to help, gathering them together indoors away from the hustle and bustle, safe and out from underfoot.
Sandbags had been made up and stored and were now brought out for the barricades or used to fortify upstairs windows where rifle barrels were beginning to be seen. Kitchen knives, machetes, pitchforks, cricket bats, rounder bats and anything that could possibly be used as a weapon were being collected and brought forth for common use against the Martians.
I called over to a young girl. "Get clean blankets, soap, hot and cold water, and lots of them. Put them on the ground floor of that block." I wouldn't be here but at least there would be basic medical provisions.
The Contessa stopped in the middle of the street, organized chaos going on all around us. "What's going on?" she asked. "Why are they not running? They know what is coming!"
I smiled. Bernhardt looked confused for a second, as if he was surprised he had not wondered the very same thing. Then he smiled. I offered him the chance to explain. He thanked me with a nod.
"Pride, Contessa," he rightly said. "During the last war, they fled, like rats trying to leave a sinking ship. The people of the greatest empire this world knows, in total disarray. Its military might torn asunder. Millions dead, injured or un-homed. Taken unawares. That was why they lost India to the Chinese in '98 - they were suddenly seen as not unbeatable."
He turned to me for acknowledgement - I nodded again.
"That and revenge, Signorina. Don't forget that a lot of the people around here are survivors, myself included - who watched strangers, their families and friends torn apart, trampled underfoot, incinerated. Literally. Revenge is a good motive. Trust me. At least they are organized and ready this time. I'm not saying they won't run, but at least they'll fight first. Take a few down. There are easy ways into the underground tunnels where there are blankets and water supplies for thousands just laid away for this very scenario. We will not fall as easily this time," I said with a bit of pride, I must confess.
"Good," the Contessa said enthusiastically. "Tell me, gentlemen, realistically what chance do we have?"
Bernhardt thought for all of half a second before saying, "Three-fifths of fuck all, your ladyship."
I laughed. "I think you're forgetting about a little place called Rourke's Drift," I said.
"Good point," said Bernhardt. "However, this will be more like having one hundred brave Welshmen with dinner forks in their little farmhouse against four thousand Zulus with cannon and Gatling guns looking in. Let alone spears against rifles."
That shut me up. We walked on.
We reached Tower Bridge to find it impassable. The drawbridge was up and the army was blockading either side. We approached them, but backed away hurriedly when a steely-eyed young private pointed his rifle in our direction. "Don't even fuckin' try it, mate."
We decided to heed his words and didn't even fuckin' try it.
We continued further west - unfortunately, this would add time to our journey, but we had little choice. The next two bridges had not yet been rebuilt, so we headed to Westminster Bridge. There next to the bridge we came upon the large, grey granite County Hall building.
-------
Religious fervour was not something to which I have ever been accustomed. Religion to me is a staid, serious affair; a mix of Old Testament empire building and New Testament love and peace with a touch of hallucinatory Revelations thrown into the mix. Being a doctor I knew for a fact that prayer did not work - if the Almighty has made up his mind then it will not be changed.
I'm more of a 'turn up on Sunday morning and sing some sombre hymns' type of Christian, say you're sorry and partake of some of the worst wine and crackers in the world. And they're always out of cheese - you'd think they could manage some smooth Cheddar or crumbly Caerphilly, but no.
I don't think there can be any doubt that the God of both halves of the Bible is a God that demands blood sacrifices - whether it be the demand for his followers' foreskins or his own flesh nailed to a crucifix. But I never expected to see a sacrifice of the flesh on the very banks of the Thames diagonally across from the Houses of Parliament - the very centre of civilisation. There wasn't much blood this time but there was definitely plenty of flesh.
There was a facsimile of a Christian cross approximately seven feet tall near the edge of the grass overlooking the river, downstream from the County Hall. The crossbeam was about four and a half feet high, and was constructed as a pillory. The beam was split along the centre, hinged at one end and padlocked at the other. These two pieces of wood had three channels cut in each of them that when joined together perfectly held a person by the neck and both wrists.
The Contessa was the first to see any details through the veil of bodies singing Hosannas to the blasphemous depravity taking place. This was like no Sunday worship that I had ever seen, the dancing more closely resembled an African tribal dance. Her gasp of astonishment grabbed Bernhardt and my attention and we instantly stepped in front to defend her.
"Holy fuck!" Bernhardt ejected.
The Contessa giggled and put her hand in front of her mouth.
I shook my head and tried not to grin. However, no matter the frivolity of the comment this was a serious matter which had to be dealt with.
"Bernhardt, do you have your revolver? Good. You know what we have to do. Signorina, stay close." I took her hand.
We slowly pushed our way through the throng who were alternating between blessed beatitude and frenzy. Had it been a normal day I could definitely have added a lot of patients to my practice - these people were in serious need of release. I was surprised to see just how many of the onlookers were women of various ages - from adolescent to ancient hag - all singing to the heavens, dancing, some even... touching themselves.
But we were on a rescue mission and could not be distracted. I caught a glimpse from Bernhardt which said, "I've got him - you two look after her."
As we broke through the inner circle we could see the whole sordid diorama in front of us.
The cross held a young woman in place by the neck and wrists. Naked. Her white flesh alight in the bright moonlight. Faint tints of green highlighted her form, and as I glanced at the sky briefly I saw the green lights of the Martian exhaust trails above us. Her long dark brown hair hung down, damp, clinging to her face.
Behind her, hands on her hips, thrusting into her was a bishop. Or at least it was a naked man wearing nought but a bishop's hat.
No-one was paying us much attention as they watched the bishop take his rather substantial appendage out of her and work it furiously manually. Even when Bernhardt pressed the muzzle of his revolver to his temple he didn't stop. In fact, I heard him clearly saying, "Almost done me old China, then you can have the titfer."
Bernhardt held the gun where it was and looked at me for translation.
"They don't teach you Cockney Rhyming Slang in the army, do they?" I asked. Finally, something he hadn't mastered - I had been beginning to wonder. "He said to wait a minute and then you could have a go if you insisted. But at least let him finish first - and you have to wear the hat."
When we had reached the woman's head I had glanced past the bishop and seen where the men in the crowd had ended up - in a queue. The ones at the front of the queue were naked, obviously eager for their turn; those further back were in various stages of undress and readiness.
I nodded towards the queue. Bernhardt's gaze turned towards it.
"Oh!" he said.
I glanced at the padlock. I hadn't expected to see the key in it, but since it was there I went to unlock it.
"Oi! Piss off! What the fuck are you playing at, cunt?"
This came from the last person I had expected, the woman in the pillory. I was so surprised that I took half a step back. My mouth dropped open. It proved to be a most inconvenient time.
Next thing I knew I had a wet mass of hot seminal fluid come flying over the cross and hit me in the face - across one cheek, dripping off my chin and hitting the back of my throat. I instinctively closed my mouth and swallowed before I realised what it was.
"Fucking good shot, Bertie!" shouted the woman, and burst into a gaggle of laughter.
The Contessa looked mortified, but then started laughing as I tried to spit out the invasive salty liquid. "Just swallow it, man - it's not as if it'll turn you into one a' them 'omersexuals!" she said through her tears. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry or gag or vomit or puke. I sat down and rested against the lower part of the cross. I looked up into what appeared behind the curtain of dark hair to be a beautiful young woman, smiling at me.
"I think you've got a bit of, ummm..." she said, trying her best in her present predicament to motion toward my chin. I wiped off the sticky residue and flicked it away. She snorted humorously. "Now you know wot it's like for us, guv," she said. "What's this all about then?"
"Rescuing... a damsel... in... distress?" I said, suddenly completely unsure of myself. This beautiful young woman seemed to be perfectly in control of her surroundings.
"Did you 'ear that Bertie? Alfie? They're rescuing a damsel in distress," she said with a put-on fancy accent. "That's the first time I've ever been called a bleedin' damsel! I don't 'alf feel posh!"
I could hear peals of laughter breaking out over the singing, making the rounds until the hymns had stopped. I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks.
The Contessa knelt down beside me, smiling. "I think we may have got things a bit wrong." I nodded, embarrassed. "You've still got..." she said and wiped the remainder of the sticky globules from my chin. She winked at me and then raised her fingers to her mouth. "See, this is how you do it," she whispered in an incredibly sexy deep tone, and proceeded to lick her fingers with the very tip of her tongue. She then sucked her fingers dry. I could feel all of the adrenaline that had rushed into my system for the rescue mission accumulate in my groin.
I closed my eyes and muttered under my breath.
"I know you want to, you darling man," the Contessa said and kissed my forehead. She stood up and offered me her hand. I stood up to join her.
We turned to look at Bernhardt. He looked quizzical and wore the bishop's mitre - a delicate, intricate white hat meant to signify a fishes mouth. The man whom I assumed was Bertie was hopping away, trying to get his second foot into his pants, white backside pointed towards us, flaccid manhood still dripping.
I looked around us and spotted a well dressed elderly gentleman with a dog collar and a notepad and pencil. But before going to see him I had to get an answer from the proverbial horse's mouth.
I knelt down and held back the woman's long hair. She turned her head to gaze at me. "Tell me," I said simply.
She smiled up at me. "Ezekiel 23:20," she replied. I was unfamiliar with this particular verse. "Bishop Burton promised us five good religious men each. As an offering of our bodies to God. To keep the Martian demons away." She looked at me for understanding. I nodded to her to continue.
"I've always wanted to do something selfless for God. None of the other girls in church wanted to do it - so I offered to do their part too," she told me in a reverential tone. "I'm a good girl, I am."
"You are indeed," I told her.
"I want to keep myself for when I get married, so they all have to cast their seed elsewhere," she finished with a satisfied grin. "Anywhere else sir, if you know wot I mean. Do you want to wear the 'at, mister?" she asked brightly, hopefully.
"Wear the hat?" I enquired, unsure as to the purpose of it.
"Yeah, the Bishop says if you wear the 'at then you're taking the form of the son of God and you 'ave to take your turn. A bit like the cracker and wine thing, innit?"
I glanced at Bernhardt who shrugged his shoulders as if to say, well, if I have to. I could tell, however, that he was very happy to comply with the religious edict. I guess that being the bodyguard to the Contessa was a twenty-four hour a day job so he would seldom get any time to socialise. And this was a beautiful girl.
"I'm spoken for already my dear, but my friend here has offered to help out for the cause," I said. I had to make sure. "Are you certain you're not being coerced into this?" I asked quietly.
"No sir," she replied. She was suddenly jarred forward, and I glanced up to see that Bernhardt was taking one for the team. Or perhaps giving one for the team. He withdrew almost completely and then thrust forward once more.
The woman moaned. Her eyes rolled. "Mmmm, your friend's got good firm meat, so he 'as, sir." A smile played across her lips. "Truth be told, ah'm fuckin' loving this," she whispered to me.
I held her face in my hands and made eye contact. "As long as you're sure," I said. She nodded in between thrusts.
"I hope when this is all over that you find a good man that appreciates what he's got with you," I said. I kissed her forehead and stood to leave.
"Look after her," she said. "And if you ever change your mind, sir, look me up. My name's Selina. Everyone knows me around about 'ere. And I'm sorry I called you a cunt."
I smiled at her. "I'm Franklin," I replied, "I will, I promise. And don't worry - I've been called worse."
The Hosannas were ringing out again. I wondered how many men Selina had serviced in the name of her Lord and Saviour. I went over and took the Contessa's hand.
"M'lady!" We turned back to the cross. "Look after 'im m'lady - 'e's a good man."
The Contessa smiled from ear to ear. "Don't you worry Selina, I will," she replied.
Something passed between them that I didn't quite catch. My mind was on other matters, mesmerised by the sight of white male liquids dripping from Selina's beautiful breasts and glistening down her thighs. Just how many of her congregation had she stood in for, receiving the love of the Lord, the jizz of Jesus?
I walked over to Bishop Burton and introduced myself. I explained my medical background and that I wanted to make sure that Selina was okay. I enquired as to how many times the hat had been passed.
Bishop Burton, seeing that we were no longer likely to start shooting and having been told of my medical background seemed slightly less reticent to talk than he might have been.
"She is such a good girl, always willing to prostrate herself for her fellow man," he said. "I'm very proud of her willingness to help with such an important offering to God - an offering of the flesh."
I explained that I was concerned more at the moment for the well-being of her earthly flesh rather than her eternal soul.
"Your man there is only her twenty-fourth tonight," he said with a mixture of pride and what appeared to be an almost deliberate lack of understanding. "As you can see, there are plenty more willing to help with her sacrifice. I'm certain that the Holy Spirit will infuse her with the strength required." Wel,l she was certainly being filled with something - the moans and small cries were testament to that. "The record around here is seventy-four you know," the Bishop smiled.
There were still around twenty men lined up in various stages of undress. I noticed the previous wearer of the hat re-joining the queue. If the Martians didn't land too soon there may still be time for his second coming.
"Hallelujah! The Lord certainly works in mysterious ways Bishop," I said. Then my tone turned deadly serious. "But that same Lord will work his will through me if that girl comes to any harm. When she says stop - you stop. When she says no more, that's it. No more." I moved closer so that only the Bishop and the Contessa could hear me.
The Bishop looked taken aback as I continued. "I don't care if the fucking Pope himself is balls deep in her - he will withdraw. You are responsible - the Lord will vent his wrath and righteous fury upon you through me. That I solemnly swear." I made sure that he held eye contact and understood me completely. And was in no doubt. His face turned red and he started to splutter.
We walked away before he turned apoplectic.
The County Hall Hotel must have been looking for some good-will from the parishioners - they brought forth half a dozen crates of beer. I grabbed three bottles. I had lost track of our pizza and wine as we started our rescue mission. Bernhardt didn't look like he would be requiring his any time soon, but I would keep it for him.
The Contessa and I walked a short way and sat down up a set of granite steps where we could overlook the goings on. One poor soul had obviously waited patiently for too long and had suffered from premature ejaculation before Bernhardt was ready to hand over the mitre. He was being roundly ridiculed by his fellow surrogate Lords and pointed at as his erection wilted and his fluid continued to pulse weakly, spilling in the mud. The Contessa didn't know whether to laugh or cry for him.
"How well do you know your scripture?" I asked her out of nowhere.
"In Latin - yes, but not in English. But I'm sure I could give you a translation." That was good enough for me.
"The first thing that Selina said to me was a bible verse." The Contessa looked intrigued. "Ezekiel 23 verse 20."
The intrigued look changed to a quizzical look, then one of self-doubt. Then she shook her head as if to reassure herself.
And then she laughed. And laughed. Arms around her waist, rocking back and fore laughter. I don't believe that I have ever seen a biblical verse have that effect on anyone.
Eventually, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and looked back at Selina. She grinned and nodded her understanding.
She cleared her throat. Then sniggered anew. Finally, she could talk.
"It concerns a woman's dreams of her old lovers. Especially those that were built partially like donkeys and who could cast their seed like a great stallion." She finished this with an exaggerated flourish of the hand as if sewing seeds far and wide. "And she remembers fondly having her young breasts played with," she added. "As we all do."
"Oh," was about all I managed.
I may well have blushed. I turned to see the Contessa smile ruefully at me. I took her hands in mine and kissed her passionately. Her lips were so soft, and her tongue so warm as she probed my mouth. Our tongues danced in the shadow of the rain of inter-planetary vessels, and I don't believe I had ever been happier. The world around me disappeared to be replaced by the most beautiful feeling of oneness. Of connection. Of heart racing, blood pulsing, throbbing, caressing, soothing, kicking wondrous life.
After what must have been at least five minutes we broke apart, still stealing brief kisses until we could get our breath back. Our eyes met, and I could see that the Contessa felt as I.
A recent memory surfaced.
"What did you mean when you said you were going to look after me?" I asked.
She just smiled, and then something over my shoulder caught her eye. She grinned. "Are you a betting man?" she asked.
"I've been known to risk the odd flutter on a filly," I replied. "Though it's not something I do regularly. Why?"
"Heads or tails?"
"When it's that choice I always go tails," I said assuredly.
"Good, because I fancied heads myself," she said with more than just a hint of mischief in her eye and the grin crossing her face.
I was waiting for her to take out a coin to toss when she pointed behind me. I turned to see that Bernhardt was slowing. He had withdrawn almost completely and was stroking the end of his impressive member along Selina's soaking wet cleft from bottom to top. He then slapped both buttocks a number of times, and not with his hand.
I smiled. It looked as if I was going to win the bet, though I wasn't entirely certain as to the wager.
However, Bernhardt wasn't quite ready after all. Instead, he walked around to Selina's head. With the help of one of the wooden beer crates, he got himself to the requisite height and, pulling her hair to the side, slowly slid himself into her eager mouth inch by inch. To a slowly rising cheer from the crowd, each inch went in until she fully accommodated him. Bernhardt nodded his head, impressed.
I checked the time on the Clock Tower - it was ten past midnight. Saturday had finally turned into Sunday, the day of Our Lord. Perhaps their offering would make a difference, I thought naively. Then I looked up and saw the enemy draw ever closer. I came to a conclusion.
"We have an hour at most until they arrive," I told the Contessa. She nodded, wide-eyed.
By this time Bernhardt was holding both arms of the cross and thrusting rhythmically in and out of Selina's open mouth. She obviously had good control of her gag reflex. Finally, I could sense him stiffen. He slowly withdrew completely and then finished himself by hand all over Selina's almost beatific smiling face. She wore her dripping seminal mask with pride. She looked like she had been truly blessed and taken to heaven.
Blast after blast erupted until I thought the man would never stop. It flowed down Selina's face, dripping off her nose and cheeks. She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out as if to receive the Holy Sacrament and swallowed heartily. Bernhardt raised his face and both arms to the heavens and screamed loud and long.
"Yeeeeeeesssssssss!!!"
"Well," said the Contessa. I turned towards her and saw her shrug. Matter-of-factly she continued, "It has been an awfully long time since he last had a wank."
She tried very hard to keep a straight face, but it only took about two seconds before we both exploded with laughter.
Bernhardt joined us shortly thereafter, having tucked himself away. I looked back at Selina, to make sure that she was okay. She saw me looking and gave me a huge beaming smile and a thumbs up. I gave her a thumbs up and a wave goodbye. I was not at all surprised to see the men fighting over who was next. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to wear the mitre immediately after that display from Bernhardt.
He grinned like the Cheshire Cat as he approached, before bowing his head and looking to the ground. "I'm sorry that you had to witness that, my Contessa," he said in a solemn manner.
Without thinking I burst out, "You are so not sorry! Oops." I may have offended Bernhardt there in front of the Contessa had she not immediately linked arms with him and started walking towards Westminster Bridge, giggling.
"You have nothing at all to apologise for - it was something that you had to do or lose face. And it was exceedingly entertaining - especially with that hat on. In fact, it was quite erotic." I couldn't help thinking of the taste of the Contessa's juices on my tongue.
I caught up with them and handed Bernhardt the beer I had kept for him as a peace offering. He winked at me and smiled a big smile of the recently sated.
"Thank you, Doctor," he said before taking the top off with his teeth and finishing the bottle in three swallows.
Louise
- 08.08.2022
- 9
- 0
- Category:
- Fantasy & Sci-Fi
War Of The Worlds II part 6
- 4 years ago
- 10
- 0
War Of The Worlds II Part 3
- 1 year ago
- 11
- 0
