Cáel Leads the Amazon Empire, Book 2: Part 10

Explicit content warning

09/02/23 • -1 min

ExplicitNovels

A day in the life of rural Hungary.

By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

‘Here be Dragons’ wasn’t always a tourist gimmick.

(Vizsla and links to the past)

The driver stopped at a rustic roadside inn. It had been an uncomfortable three hour drive to the East-Southeast of Budapest and even Pamela seemed to have lost her bearings. Our luggage had been placed in the bonnet (trunk), but we kept our duffels, with our weaponry, on our laps the entire trip. Selena, Pamela and I were squeezed into the back seat, while Alkonyka sat up front with our amiable driver. He was full of interesting tips, jokes and local legends. If he wanted us to forget he was part of a company of killers, he failed.

Selena ignored me. Instead, she tried to engage Pamela in conversation three times over the course of the trip. Each time, Pamela responded with chilly disdain. That left Selena a tad bit grumpy by the time we stopped.

“Leave your weapons,” Selena demanded. This clearly wasn’t the Kazakhstan consulate. This was the ass-end of nowhere with Black Hand all around. Pamela and I left our duffels outside the vacated car, stretched out some kinks and began handing our personal weapons over to the driver and Selena.

“Is that everything?” our driver smiled. Alkonyka was coming around to our side. She gave up my spare Glock-22 that I had given her and her father’s Special Forces knife.

“No,” I answered. “We have a ceremonial dagger. To take that is a terrible insult.” He motioned us to give them over and I did. Pamela’s followed mine two second later.

“Only him,” Selena directed me to the front door of the inn. I looked to Pamela. We both shrugged.

“Alkonyka, relax,” I smiled at my latest female of interest. “I’ll either be back soon or the snipers hiding about the place will kill you so fast, you won’t notice.” Blink. I wasn’t joking.

As my eyes were adjusting from the bright day outside to the inn’s dark interior, two men patted me down. I obviously hadn’t been lying about disarming, but they did have me remove my light ballistic vest, it was way too hot for my duster. I suspected that they wanted me to get redressed, so I put my shirt back on, unbuttoned, and then added my jacket, I took my time since they were both being dicks.

Finally, they allowed me to walk into the bar proper. Sure enough, a mid-to-late 50ish woman was sitting at a round table in the back. Halfway to her table, I deviated, jumped over the bar, and poured myself a nice German lager. Stein in hand, I walked her way.

“I didn’t say you could have a drink,” the Vizsla commented.

“Oh, my apologies,” I shrugged. I put the stein on a nearby table and waited.

“Have a seat,” she directed. I came up to her table and examined the three empty chairs. I held back until she pointed to the chair opposite her. I sat down, but didn’t make eye contact. Instead, I examined the various paintings and photographs on the walls. It was an old place.

“You killed Matthias, even though you knew he worked for me,” she uttered.

“I can confirm that information to be correct,” I looked her way. That, wasn’t what she expected.

“Why?”

“Why what?” I countered. There was a method to my madness; this was going to be a lesson in competence, and what happens when you don’t respect it.

“Why did you kill Matthias?”

“I needed a reason?” I tried to look pensive. “Maybe I didn’t like the cut of his facial hair?”

“Do you think this is a joke?” she replied dryly. “The Black Hand always avenge our own.”

“Damn,” I looked perplexed. “No one told me that when I arrived. Can we call Matthias’s extermination a 50/50 bad call, both ways?”

“Matthias was my cousin,” the Vizsla continued.

“My condolences,” I sighed. “The next Black Hand douche-bag the Amazons waste, I’ll have them ask if he’s related to you first. How’s that?”

“You are so not likely to have that opportunity,” she pointed out.

“Oh,” I laughed, “you are so wrong about that.”

“You are far stupider than I had been informed,” the Vizsla’s eyes narrowed.

“Nope. You and your cast of ’Dumb and Dumber’ have been treating us like idiots since we touched down at Ferenc Liszt International, so I’m pretending to be that simpleton sock-puppet just for you, Vizsla. You’ve added to that by heaping disrespect and derision on my people,” I grinned.

“You tried to have me and my entourage murdered and Matthias paid the price for that. Ever...

A day in the life of rural Hungary.

By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

‘Here be Dragons’ wasn’t always a tourist gimmick.

(Vizsla and links to the past)

“Is that everything?” our driver smiled. Alkonyka was coming around to our side. She gave up my spare Glock-22 that I had given her and her father’s Special Forces knife.

“No,” I answered. “We have a ceremonial dagger. To take that is a terrible insult.” He motioned us to give them over and I did. Pamela’s followed mine two second later.

“Only him,” Selena directed me to the front door of the inn. I looked to Pamela. We both shrugged.

“I didn’t say you could have a drink,” the Vizsla commented.

“Oh, my apologies,” I shrugged. I put the stein on a nearby table and waited.

“You killed Matthias, even though you knew he worked for me,” she uttered.

“I can confirm that information to be correct,” I looked her way. That, wasn’t what she expected.

“Why?”

“Why what?” I countered. There was a method to my madness; this was going to be a lesson in competence, and what happens when you don’t respect it.

“Why did you kill Matthias?”

“I needed a reason?” I tried to look pensive. “Maybe I didn’t like the cut of his facial hair?”

“Do you think this is a joke?” she replied dryly. “The Black Hand always avenge our own.”

“Damn,” I looked perplexed. “No one told me that when I arrived. Can we call Matthias’s extermination a 50/50 bad call, both ways?”

“Matthias was my cousin,” the Vizsla continued.

“My condolences,” I sighed. “The next Black Hand douche-bag the Amazons waste, I’ll have them ask if he’s related to you first. How’s that?”

“You are so not likely to have that opportunity,” she pointed out.

“Oh,” I laughed, “you are so wrong about that.”

“You are far stupider than I had been informed,” the Vizsla’s eyes narrowed.

“You tried to have me and my entourage murdered and Matthias paid the price for that. Ever...

Previous Episode

Cáel Leads the Amazon Empire, Book 2: Part 9

Not the welcome we expected

When your tour guide is an assassin, what can go wrong?

By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

You can do wrong while trying to do right.

(Not the welcome we expected)

When my family’s side and my companions finally settled down for some sleep, I was left wide awake, the memories of hundreds of years seeping into my conscious mind. These were amusing, frightening and sad. Grandpa Cáel/Alal had lived a life full of pain, both given and received. He spent an inordinate amount of time looking at children.

Since I had his memories, not his personality, I had to decipher their emotional context. The dominant themes were sadness, jealousy and anger. Immortality wasn’t a future. Immortality was continued existence. And only through his eyes did I begin to see the difference. A family meant a future. Offspring meant a future. Sarrat Irkalli had stolen that from him.

Alal had tried fostering children. He had even adopted infants who knew no other father. It was always that same dark journey that he walked with everyone he ever loved. They died, either at the hands of his enemies, or from the passage of time. It became too much to bear, so he gave up trying to bond with humanity.

I had a newfound sense of sympathy for him. I was also terrified by the way his mind had evolved and was even more convinced I had to kill him, which was what he wanted me to try. Why? Fear. Having lived for so long and suffered so much, Phobos was a distant memory for him. He had experienced physical and emotional agony so many times that it had lost all reference to him.

Grandpa wanted to fight me, then he wanted to kill me. He couldn’t bring order to humanity’s perpetual state of chaos if he was finally, really dead. I had these memories from him, but not the actual experience. Maybe if I trained for 100 years, which was 99 fewer years than he was going to give me, I approach his skill. Aunt Kelly interrupted my introspection.

“Do you mind if I sleep beside you?” she asked. She was going through some minor tremors.

“Sure thing,” I replied softly. I scooted over and held up the thin blanket I was sheltering under. Kelly snuggled in on the, it was a cot, not a bed. I cut through the confusion by letting her head come to rest on my right biceps (I was on my right side).

Kelly moved closer allowing me to run my hand from the top of her right thigh, along her hip then over to her back. As my fingers worked up her spine in a zigzag pattern, she started kissing me on the lips. Tongues played, chests pressed together and our legs intertwined. Kelly was athletic and vigorous, yet clearly driving under the influence, my scent was making her unstable.

Despite her ferocious nature, after stripping off her clothes, Kelly quickly rolled onto her stomach then brought her knees up in the classic ‘ass up’ sexual position. The last thing I wanted to do was to be a cheap replacement for Grandpa. When I was naked, I manhandled Kelly up and on top of me. There was nothing wrong with her instincts once she was there.

Kelly had my cock in her hand and was rubbing against her gushing labia in a heartbeat. Penetration came in one liquid, friction-intense plunge. My aunt wasted no time letting the whole plane know she was in sexual bliss. I had a massive sexual legacy to live up to and Kelly gave every indication that one orgasm wasn’t nearly enough.

I licked, sucked and teased every millimeter of her scrumptious breasts and teats. She moaned from deep within her diaphragm in one long litany of limitless carnality. Kelly responded by giving me frantic kisses, bitten lips and twisting my nipples as she raced to her second orgasm. (There is no rest for the wicked.) Finally, Kelly shifted to a spooning position.

The second time I entered her, we were less frantic and more sensual. It was an unhurried, pleasant cunt penetration accompanied by plenty of kisses along her shoulders and neck. Our hands roamed over each other’s bodies. I got Kelly to play with her tits while I grabbed her hips and began hammering away. I told her I was close.

Kelly picked up her self-stimulation and started pushing her ass back to meet my thrusts. My climax built up and up until I felt my penis taking on the role of a fire hose in a five alarm fire. Cum kept shooting out, strand after strand of my seed painted her vaginal walls. My Aunt and I were panting like greyhounds at the end of an epic race. I was developing a ...

Next Episode

Cáel Leads the Amazon Empire, Book 2: Part 11

Good and bad unintended consequences.

By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

The highest cost of losing a war is the rage of your children.

Note: One of History’s Lessons

In the last 75 years of military history, airpower had been a decisive factor in every major conflict, save one. Most Americans would think the one exception was US involvement in Vietnam and they’d be wrong: right country, wrong time. Indochina’s War of Independence against France was the exception. There, the French Air Force was simply inadequate to the task.

Yes, the United States and its allies eventually lost the struggle in Vietnam. But it was their airpower that kept the conflict running as long as it did. For the most part, the Allied and Communist military hardware on the ground were equivalent. While the Allies had superior quantities of supplies, the Communists countered that with numbers, and therein lies the rub.

Airpower allowed the Allies to smash large North Vietnamese formations south of the Demilitarized Zone and thus prevented the numerical advantage from coming into play. The North Vietnamese and Viet Cong made one serious stab at a conventional militarily challenge to the Allies, the Tet Offensive, and after initial successes, they were crushed.

With the NVA unable to flex their superior numbers, the Allies were able to innovate helicopter-borne counter-insurgency operations. The North Vietnam’s Army (NVA) was forced to operate in smaller units, so the Allies were able to engage them in troop numbers that helicopters could support. The air forces didn’t deliver ultimate victory, but air power alone had never been able to do so on land. It was only when the US lost faith in achieving any positive outcome in Viet Nam and pulled out, that the North was finally able to overrun the South 20 months later. But every major power today understands the lesson.

End of Note

(Big Trouble in Little China)

The military importance of airpower was now haunting the leadership of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and People’s Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF). Their problem wasn’t aircraft. Most of their air fleet consisted of the most advanced models produced during the last two decades. The problem was that 80% of their pilots were dead, or dying. Their ground crews were in the same peril. Even shanghaiing commercial pilots couldn’t meet the projected pilot shortfall.

Classic PLA defense doctrine was to soak up an enemy (Russian) attack and bog down the aggressor with semi-guerilla warfare (classic small unit tactics backed up with larger, light infantry formations). Then, when the invaders were over-extended and exhausted, the armored / mechanized / motorized forces would counter-attack and destroy their foes. This last bit required air superiority through attrition.

The twin enemies of this strategy were the price of technology and the Chinese economic priorities. With the rising cost of the high-tech equipment and a central government focus on developing the overall economy, the Chinese went for an ever smaller counter attack striking force, thus skewing the burden of depth of support far in favor of their relatively static militia/police units.

So now, while the PLA / PLAAF’s main divisions, brigades and Air Wings were some of the best equipped on the planet, the economic necessities had also meant the militia was financially neglected, remaining little more than early Cold War Era non-mechanized infantry formations. To compensate, the Chinese had placed greater and greater emphasis on the deployment capabilities of their scarcer, technologically advanced formations.

When the Anthrax outbreak started, the strike force personnel were the first personnel ‘vaccinated’. Now those men and women were coughing out the last days and hours of their lives. Unfortunately, you couldn’t simply put a few commercial truck drivers in a T-99 Main Battle Tank and expect them to be anything more than a rolling coffin. The same went for a commercial airline pilot and a Chengdu J-10 multi-role fighter. The best you could hope for was for him/her to make successful takeoffs and landings.

A further critical factor was that the Khanate’s first strike had also targeted key defense industries. The damage hadn’t been irreparable. Most military production would be only a month to six weeks behind schedule. But there would be a gap.

It was just becoming clear...