Caliphate Assault

Thanks for reading. The below story includes violence and non-consensual sex in a fantasy/fiction setting. I am working on the next chapter and looking forward to fleshing out more of this frightening alternate future world for you to enjoy.

As in the current world; the villain in this story is not those who follow a particular religion or belief system, but those who use one as justification for evil deeds.

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The position was a very good one, atop a scrubby hill with an excellent field of fire covering one of the most critical river crossings. The pre-dawn preparatory bombardment by the attackers was not heavy, but it included a few dozen rounds aimed at presumed defensive positions on the reverse slope of the hill; incendiary rounds lit brushfires that would help obscure the small amount of smoke from the rifles of the defending Marksman Team.

The crossing was to be held by two companies of fighters scraped together from a couple local militias and a squad of Republic regulars rushed back to the line after just a day or two regrouping from the last holding action on the far side of the river. The Marksman Team was the only hole card that the ragged defense had up it's sleeve; the two women and one man of the team were all top-notch shooters equipped with pre-Burning rifles and plenty of ammunition.

The Marksman Team arrived the night before the attack to find a good shooting post laid out for them with concealing brush carefully shifted to obscure them and a wide dugout with overhead cover. The regulars at the base of the hill were to fight from a mix of sandbagged foxholes and a few spider holes dug into the soft clay bank overlooking the shallowest section of the river.

It was a position that even this light force could have held for a good long time, but the enemy had ten of the new mortars that had started showing up this year and almost three hundred men, all veteran soldiers of the Caliphate. With the campaign season running short, the usual fall rains only a few weeks away, the enemy was sure to press the attack.Three hundred against less than seventy was very bad odds, even with the river and Marksmen to help the defenders. It looked to be a desperate battle.

Sarah carefully shaded the lenses of her precious binoculars as she slowly swept them across the east side of the river. Her dirty-blonde hair was tucked into a brown bandana and her freckled face was smudged with lampblack, but the slightest reflection of sunlight from her binoculars might bring down a volley of mortar rounds so she was very slow and deliberate in her movements.

The eastern horizon was a rosy shade of pink streaked with a few smudges of smoke from the enemy mortar attack that had just ended. The Republic Lieutenant that had slipped up the hill to speak with Sergeant Marsh late in the night had filled them in on the situation; the Caliphate commander was expected to follow the same formula that had been so successful for the muslim troops this year.

He would use his mortars for a preparatory barrage right before dawn, then bring his troops up to the opposite bank of the river and bring down another barrage of mortar fire on any visible defensive positions. The first wave of the attack would follow right on the heels of the second mortar barrage. The muslim commander would hope that the combination of mortar fire and morning light in the eyes of the defenders would give his initial assault a chance to get across and break the defense in one quick attack.

It looked like the enemy commander was sticking to the script; Sarah felt her pulse begin to pound as she spotted dark green Caliphate tunics pushing through the underbrush on the far side of the river, metal glinting dully as rifles were raised to shoulders. Even as Sarah shoved the binoculars in their pouch and snapped it shut, she heard Marsh rapidly crank the handle of the battered hand-powered comm box and growl "showtime" into the microphone. By the time Sarah had dragged her rifle up to her shoulder, Marsh had already put the comm box away and was snuggling his own weapon up against his cheek. The third Marksman, a mousy brunette named Wiley had her rifle, a bolt-action .303 aimed downrange and took the first shot. The sharp crack of Wiley's shot sent a Caliphate soldier tumbling and sparked a veritable storm of fire from both sides of the river.

Thick clouds of smoke quickly shrouded the riverbanks as the muslim soldiers knelt in place and fired, then opened the breeches of their rifles, thumbed in another round, snapped the breech shut, aimed and fired again. The Defenders were doing the same, but firing from holes and far less exposed. Most of them were Idahoan militiamen who had been shooting since they were boys; their heavy single-shot rifles lashed the muslim troops with a hail of accurate fire. From the center of the defensive line, the sharp snap of semi-automatic fire from the assault rifles of the Republic soldiers sounded, taking a heavy toll of Caliphate soldiers across the shallowest section of the river.

Sarah laid the inverted V of her scope over a green-suited figure kneeling behind a pine tree, gently taking up trigger pressure until she was almost startled by the snap of it firing. Her weapon was a meticulously cared-for M16A2 from a Washington State National Guard Armory that the Republic had claimed right after its formation almost a hundred years before. The shot was about 150 yards, but with an excellent shooter like Sarah and the quality optics fitted to the old assault rifle, it was no surprise that her first shot tore right through the target's center mass. Marsh and Wiley slowly worked through distant targets with their heavier, bolt-action rifles, while Sarah focused on Caliphate soldiers right at the riverbank, tapping through her first twenty-round box magazine in less than a minute.

Just as she slapped her second magazine into place and prepared to resume shooting, Sarah heard the crump of mortar rounds beginning to land on the western river bank down below. Marsh turned his head and looked over at her and Sarah felt her fear rise a notch when she saw the crazed look in his eyes.

"The enemy commander is a smart bastard" shouted Marsh over the din of fire. "He sent his first wave up to start a firefight so that his spotters could get a better look at where to bring the mortar fire down. Maximum fire now, it's about to get hairy!"

Sarah swallowed hard and went back to her work, shooting through her second magazine much more quickly. Marsh and Wiley picked up their fire as well, rapidly working the bolts of their hunting rifles, snapping fresh five-round boxes into their guns and firing away. Meanwhile, down below a three-round stonk of mortar rounds walked right across the pair of foxholes that held the squad of Republic soldiers and their Lieutenant. In an instant, almost all of the semi-automatic rifle fire at the center of the defensive line was silenced and the leader of the defense killed. The Idahoans, stubborn to a fault, kept methodically killing the exposed Caliphate soldiers on the far bank of the river, but the volume of defensive fire had dropped sharply.

Horns sounded across the river, followed by wailing cries as more dark green-uniformed soldiers pushed forward out of the woods and began wading across the river. Most of them didn't even stop to shoot; their rifles were tipped with wicked-looking bayonets and the muslim soldiers waded forward against the withering fire.

Sarah herself toppled one of them, then another, and another... five of them in rapid succession. But more poured down out of the woods and into the river. The leading edge of the attack stumbled up onto the western shore and immediately waded into a foxhole filled with militiamen. Two muslim soldiers reeled back, shot by the defenders, but four more closed in, mercilessly impaling militiamen on their bayonets. The defensive fire slackened and men cried out in fear as the Caliphate attack pressed home; more and more muslim soldiers made it across the river, bearded faces twisted with the rage of battle. In a last snap of gunfire and flashing bayonets, the defense broke.

Marsh and Wiley both rose to one knee so that they could shoot straight down the hill at the attacking soldiers below, as handful of surviving militiamen fled up the hill. Sarah knelt too, then screamed in surprise and almost shot the Republic soldier who suddenly dragged himself up and into the firing position. The man was draped with several of the precious M16s and clutched another one on his left hand. The right side of his face was streaked with blood and his bandolier was empty of magazines.

Marsh scrambled over and grabbed the man by his collar. "Soldier, can you move?" The man heaved in a couple quick breaths, then nodded frantically.

"Good, then haul ass out of here with those rifles. We aren't stopping these assholes here, but there is no reason to give away our guns." Marsh rose and dragged the soldier to his feet. "Now get out of here, we'll see if we can slow them down!"

The Republic soldier pulled free from Marsh and took off towards the crest of the slope, rifles clattering as he hustled away.

Marsh looked over at Sarah and nodded, then leaned out over the edge of the fighting position and resumed shooting.

The next ten minutes were a nightmare of snapping bullets and the screams of the remaining militia. A lucky pair of the militiamen actually made it to the Marksman Team and laid down alongside them, adding the fire of their big breechloaders, but it was a lost cause. The Caliphate soldiers moved steadily up the hill, methodically scrambling from one piece of cover to another. As they had already shown in the river crossing, these men did not lack for courage. Gradually, a handful of the muslims crept up the hill to either side, bringing flanking fire onto the little group of defenders.

One of the militiamen suddenly slumped beside Sarah; she looked over and saw the ruin that a soft lead 10mm bullet had made of his face. Desperate, Sarah crawled behind his dead body then braced her rifle across his chest, slipped the selector to burst fire and emptied the remaining rounds in her clip in three-round bursts aimed at the flankers on her side.

Sarah crowed in triumph as both of the Caliphate soldiers that had climbed on her side toppled down the hill. She didn't see or hear the dark green hand bomb that arced up from below the firing position to land between Sergeant Marsh and the remaining militiaman. When it went off with a hollow thump Sarah felt the ground drop away beneath her, then suddenly smash up into her, leaving her dazed.

Green tunics swarmed the position and bearded faces leaned over, yanking Sarah's rifle from numb fingers. A strong hand gripped her by the hair, flinging her bandana away and dragging her back from the edge of the shooting position. Sarah saw Caliphate soldiers plunge bayonets into the smoking bodies of Marsh and the militiaman. Nearby, Wiley clung to her rifle as a swarthy soldier worked to twist it from her grip. She was flung to the ground as the weapon was torn away from her and a second muslim stepped forward and clipped her forehead with the butt of his rifle, sending her sprawling.

Over the ringing in her ears, Sarah could hear the guttural voices of the soldiers; surprisingly, they seemed to speak english. More distant moans and cries chorused, as wounded Caliphate soldiers and the few surviving militiamen and Republic soldiers called out for help.

More bearded faces gathered round, muttering and gesturing amongst themselves, pressing close. The man holding Sarah by her hair tried to wave them away, but strong hands pushed him back and began groping and grabbing Sarah, pinning her down. She began to panic as the groping hands found the button closure of her uniform, tugging and yanking until the top buttons of her shirt popped free, exposing pale white skin and the dingy white of Sarah's bra to hungry eyes. A heavy hand clamped down over Sarah's mouth, squeezing her screams back into her mouth and partially blocking her frantic gasps for air. More hands slipped into the waistband of Sarah's pants, insistently tugging downward against the resistance of her heavy leather belt, painfully scraping her hips until the cold edge of a knife slid down and cut the belt away.

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to somehow block out what was to come. But suddenly, the hands fell away except for a couple with iron grips on her arms.

"Open your eyes and look upon me houri" growled a commanding voice, "Look upon the victor of this battle and hear my words!

Obediently, Sarah opened her eyes and looked up, to find a dark-skinned man of perhaps fifty standing before her, his dark green uniform accented by a pearl-handled whip and a leather-holstered revolver sitting at his hip. The man's hair and eyebrows were sprinkled with gray and his heavy-lidded brown eyes had dark circles beneath them. Sarah glanced nervously to the side and saw Wiley lying stunned, an angry red welt rising on her forehead. Wiley's clothing was already already all but cut away, exposing her small pale breasts with their tiny dark brown nipples and the fuzz of her dark brown pubes was exposed because her panties were pulled down below her buttocks.

The dark eyes of the Caliphate Commander cooley looked Sarah up and down and she realized with a start that the front of her uniform blouse hung open, revealing heavy c-cup breasts still supported by her brassiere. Sarah's pants were down almost to her knees, and she could feel the heat of the commander's' eyes as they traveled from her pale cleavage, down across the taut whiteness of her belly and to her pubic mound, covered only by thin cotton panties.

The commander slowly dragged his eyes back up Sarah's body, meeting her eyes and growling "I am Captain Ismael Abdul'Azziz, and it is my men that you were working so hard to kill with your infernal rifles." With that, he nodded towards the M16 and two bolt-action rifles leaned against the side of the dugout. "I have lost over seventy men taking this crossing, and will likely lose another thirty to their wounds. Now my men must hold this crossing and pass through Ibn'Djal's battalion and they will probably take Coeur d'Alene tomorrow, or the next day, while we sit here licking our wounds."

The Captain shook his head slowly. "Justice is not always apparent, but the faithful must remember that Allah, the merciful, the lovingkind, is always just in his own way. Yes, we will miss out on our share of plunder and Kaphar women in the taking of one of your cities... but perhaps we will find a way to enjoy our lot." With that, a thin smile slowly crept across the Captain's face and Sarah felt a chill run through her.

The Captain turned, looking for an officer or Sergeant who had been present when the position was taken. "You there, tell me what transpired when these Kaphar were taken!"

A grizzled NCO quickly explained the final attack, that Sarah had been easily disarmed, while Wiley had to be subdued with more force.

The Captain nodded thoughtfully, then turned back to Sarah. "You houris and your damned Republic soldiers; I cannot understand how you think it right to mix men and women together in your army. But the way of the infidel is death and you see that here today justice is being done upon you."

With that, he stepped closer, slipping one hand into Sarah's uniform shirt as the hands gripping her arms tightened.The Captains' hand closed around one heavy breast, sliding underneath and hefting it gently as he leaned close and whispered into her ear. "You should be home suckling babes on these, not here in the dirt pretending to be a man. Well, we will remind you what it is to be a woman." He chuckled softly. " I will let them start with the one that fought; it is just that she be punished first and I am known as a just man. You will watch and see."

The Captain stepped back and pointed to Wiley's still form. "My men, we will start with this one! See to it that it is done right!"

Wide grins split the bearded faces of the men clustered around the two women and several rushed forward and knelt by Wiley. They quickly finished cutting away her clothes then wrapped leather thongs around her wrists and pulled them away from her body, looping the ends around tent spikes that were quickly driven into the ground with trenching tools. Wiley's legs were pulled wide and treated similarly as the eager men queued up, unbuttoning the front of their trousers. A medic wearing an armband with a red crescent on it leaned down and stroked a small sponge across Wiley's neck, then turned towards Sarah. She struggled to pull away, but was held helpless as the medic reached under her jaw and firmly rubbed the sponge against her neck, leaving a tingling sensation.

The noncom that had answered the Captains' questions called out loudly "First Company!" bringing a cheer from most of the men who were gathered around. Others pulled away, picking up their rifles and shuffling off down the hill towards the river, leaving about forty or fifty men around the dugout..

Next the noncom turned to the Captain, making an eloquent bow and gesturing towards the now-naked Republic soldier spread eagled on the ground.

The Captain politely gestured for the noncom to begin, saying "First Company, you won great honor today by forcing our enemies to show themselves; have your fun with this Kaphar houri, but be mindful of your brothers in Second and Third!" The men growled a rough cheer to their commander, who turned to the two holding Sarah. "Bring her close so that she can see how we treat Republic whores!"

With that, Sarah was dragged closer so that she could see the the noncom eagerly kneel between Wiley's legs, unbuttoning the front flap of his trousers and pulling them open to reveal his knobby, uncircumcised cock. She saw him spit on the fingers of his right hand then smear the saliva over the swollen cock, spit glistening on the dark head as it peeked out of his foreskin. He parted the dazed woman's pubic hair with the practiced fingers of his left hand, while curling his other hand tight around the shaft of his member and sliding the spit-slicked tip up and down against Wiley's dry inner lips.

After a moment, the noncom pushed forward against the small opening of Wiley's vagina, slowly pressing the fat tip of his cock into her. "AHHHH this houri, she is as tight as one of the blessed virgins!" gasped the soldier as he slowly worked himself into the unconscious woman. Finally, the muslim's wiry black pubic hair was pressed against Wiley's brown bush as he sank the full six inch length of his manhood into her.

Sarah's vision blurred as tears filled her eyes and she looked down at her feet. Wiley liked women, everybody in the company knew and nobody cared - that was her business. But now Wiley was going to be fucked by many, many men and it didn't matter what she liked. Her sniffling was cut short as a hand gripped the back of Sarah's dirty blonde hair tightly and jerked her face up to watch what was happening.

The Captain himself had replaced the right-hand soldier holding her, freeing the man to take his place in the line to fuck Wiley. His right hand held the back of her hair in a painful grip, while his left hand drifted down Sarah's back to cup the cheek of her ass, gently squeezing it through the thin material of her panties. Sarah's sniffle turned into a gasp as the hand drifted lower, going underneath her ass and forcing between her thighs to firmly cup the soft mound of her pussy.

"Watch closely houri, as these muslim cocks are buried inside your infidel friend one by one" growled the Captain in her ear.

As he whispered the filthy words, Sarah heard Wiley give off a low moan, bringing a rough cheer from the men waiting in line.