bookpower Chapter 267 Blood Of Rebels
Chapter 267 Blood Of Rebels
"THEY RIDE LIKE THE FURIES!" One man lauded.
This man, like the others, was smitten lips shut in the sheer majesty of the topless Milfs riding in. In hardcore, military style.
The Junker queen, Dementa was in the lead of the riding gang; her grey tank top was zippered and the fly hung open, exposing very succulent and forward standing titties. Her areolas were warmed pink in the receding sunlight. Her camouflage combat pants were tight of her strong thighs and rode up her lap as her camel-hide boots throttled hard on the accelerator of her bike.
It roared in the red desert harder than a combust engine on a moving train. Three more hot cougars rode fast behind her. From the left, the busty sukky infamous for her sinful bod and BJs: Aya Naamah steered her own engine-chariot furiously. The iron wheels gave its own sandstorm as it beat across the ancient sands and made gravel shiver.
Immediately adjacent to her was another gorgeous, crazy rider. The Empress, Ravenna.
The runaway Queen had the smallest chest of the bunch. Compared to the inflamed succubus beside her, Ravenna's boobs were pear-sized—it didn't stop them from swaying with every jerk and rev of her mini-truck though. One could wonder for a millennia how the gangs of the Badlands managed to get their hands on such high artificial tech.
The simple truth was Grone. The man and his dad, Khrogan had robbed every poor sod to travel the brown sands from king to commoner, and baron to buffoon. Among these sorry lot, the Atlanteans had fallen victims. And those water citizens had more futuristic contraptions than the planet of dark Lord Hephaestus.
"I see a most ravishing redhead in the fork!" called the fourth woman of the all-female gang, the last biker on the right: Natalya.
One would think the Virgin of the Coldflame too high on morals to partake in such demented sport of nudity. But Rafel's abrupt abduction after the blast had brought out the motherly instinct—she didn't even knew she had—out of her.
Natalya gripped onto the handlebars of her bike and revved torturously with her fingers. It looked like she had just flattened a wayward coyote and wet her spiked tyres in its corpse blood for minutes. And pissed on it thereafter. Her biker slacks were stained in grease. The heaving machine under her looked like it was fashioned with both gnarly metal and roadkill.
One zombie eye popped out from the sissy bar. A trail of a rotting flag clung out behind, flapping in the wind and rusty dust. Natalya rode in heels.
Despite it being the first time the vestal was out of her usual white frock, she rocked the commando jeans like a proper goth femme. If she wasn't already deflowered by a certain husky, ruddy rebel, the hard driving she indulged would definitely have done it for her hymen.
Charging across the dunes the way they did, the four women resembled rock 'n roll dykes in their thirties tired of being the butch for one night and ready to claim the cock of a 21yr old. The itch to be ruthlessly pounded for once.
Perhaps it was the heat. Perhaps it was suppressed need. But these four women rode across that sunset like it was their nephew—and it was just for one night.
"I see him too." Ravenna admitted.
Bruum! Brruuum!
And the sound of roar engines skyrocketed.
"Hell, she is something," Rafel zeroed his eyes on Natalya as their manic gang sped in closer. The Vestal was a vision in the cloud of dust that rose like a grainy shadow behind them. Of all the hot, busty Milfs driving into base, she was the whitest bitch.
She turned from the lapping flames in the hearth.
"I have news from the scouts."
Ravenna slid off Rafel's shoulders. She could tell the instant his grip slacked. The air went tense at the words of the Supreme Mother. "What news, Indira?" Rafel tried for calm, but they was nothing to mask the rising wrath in the scratchy bass his voice propelled. It was exactly what he dreaded. It was one woman in particular, if she could be called that. Indira tilted her head and said.
"Lilith."
"Shite." Ravenna bit down in a huff and fell to a green settee. "Way to dull a girl's needs, Mother Superior." Cora vaunted also. "This fucking bitch! Hasn't she had enough of toying with mortal lives." The slender tomboy particularly had an axe to grind with the Queen of the Night because she had once had undying fealty and faith to Lilith. The fucking cunt had being her coven Matriarch—and then gone ahead to murder and resurrect her again, just to prove a point.
And there was the shit with wiping her memories!
If not for Rafel, she'd be a clueless zombie on the chessboard of gods.
"This fucking bitch." Cora said again.
"Mother Indira, details please." Rafel was the voice of reason.
Indira found her most reasonable tone to address the small room of trusted ranks in the rebellion war. "There's a battalion of armed sellswords who have set up siege at the Seat. Among their camp is a good number of Lilith's [Blackguard]. They also have wargs and witch factions in their midst. I was only able to escape their surround because I had come here initially for the Rites of Issus... your coronation, my king." Indira took two careful steps in front of the fire. The orange flickers bounced in her shawl and veils radiant light.
"She means to quell our revolution before it ever leaves the South." Cora told intelligently. Then her head swivelled to land marine eyes on Indira. "Did the scouts manage to have a number?"
"The mercenaries are a little over a thousand. The Blackguard stand fifty strong. From the dark tales I've heard of them, they do not need to be more."
"An army of a thousand?" Rafel recited Indira's words. "She's testing our battle stride."
"And resolve." Cora voiced again. "I know that bitch calling herself the Dowager. I once loved her to madness. She is the soul of [Yandere]."
Rafel circled in the tent. He looked round the faces of the roomful of hot women who had decided to take the stand against the greatest military in the Continent with him, and he loved them dearly. He said with clear conviction in his leopard eyes.
"Well, Lilith is wrong to underestimate us. We are the blood of rebels. In the words of a man whom was awfully martyred at my hand during the years of my deception. . ." he spoke of General Noguri, the Legatus Lilith's new bitch, Giselle, had coaxed him into slaying, ". . .the light of revolution has been ignited. Watch it burn into the might of a thousand Suns."
He ended with this: "Sleep, my darlings. Tomorrow, we ride for Séltand. Tomorrow, we make this desert dawn the last thing Lilith's little bitches ever see. Tomorrow, we begin our march to freedom."
"Hear! Hear!" All the women in the lamplit tent chanted—even the topless ones.