To Protect and Serve Ch. 03

"High tech armor," Reaper explained, handing Shamira a suit. "Monique gave the manufacturer your measurements. Tough-ass fibers, fluid polymers, ceramic and metal plating."

Shamira stripped down to her skivvies and threw on her new gear. "Nice," she said. It's a little . . . (grunt) . . . binding."

"No, you just have enormous knockers," Clara said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "For luck." Then she got her cute ass out of there to go to her casting circle.

"She never does that to give ME luck," Bjorne muttered.

This time, Shamira was glad she couldn't blush. Clara was just her incredibly hot friend and mentor and that was it. Right? "What about weapons?"

"Take your personals," Henry said, donning his own armor. "Whips, take one of the fancy Desert Eagles, and --"

"How about actual fire?" she asked. "Fire works on a lot of stuff according to legend."

Bjorne hefted a flamethrower, grinning from ear to ear. "Got it covered."

"What's that?" she asked, looking at something with a set of six large tubes circling the barrel.

"Net gun," Banshee said. She pursed her eyes. "Yeah, take that."

Shamira felt completely bitching and awesome in her new armor. Then she donned her helmet and was ready to party. "I'm so glad I don't have to pee anymore because this is EXACTLY the moment the need would strike me."

Even Banshee laughed at that one, and they loaded into the black hummer that Shamira had nearly wrecked.

"Nothing personal," Shamira said, turning and looking at Lillian, "but I didn't think you were a frontline fighter."

"Oh, I'm not," she said warmly through her face plate. "I'm a total chicken-shit when I'm not on the property or don't have Monique around. I probably won't even get out of the car until the area is secured, unless it requires my special mojo."

"Shamira, this is your first cluster fuck, so I want you to stand back and observe. If there's a lot of stuff that comes through, keep us from getting flanked, surrounded, or otherwise hosed. Be prepared to do whatever I say whenever I say," Henry said.

Shamira smiled. "It's my day off."

"That's okay. Soon enough, little girl."

"Hey everyone," came Clara's voice. "The caster is still in the area. I just did a sweep of the area, and whoever it is has a circle up and I think they're still inside. Feels like voodoo to me."

"Voodoo?" Banshee muttered. "Five bucks says it's a love-spell gone wrong."

Reaper shook his head. "Vengeance. I'll say vengeance."

"Probably someone actually trying a summoning," was Henry's guess. "Long dead relative."

"I'm going with Banshee," Lillian said.

"What are you guys talking about?" Shamira asked.

"This part of Georgia doesn't have any real voodoo practitioners. You're lucky to find any outside of Louisiana. So most people around here who try to perform voodoo rituals don't really understand it and are getting their spell and charms out of cheap-ass 'spell books' they bought at the mall. They shouldn't work, but sometimes you get someone who has some actual mojo who finds something that's kind of close, so something happens when they try to cast. Generally it's not what they wanted, but something definitely happens." Lillian sounded annoyed. "Amateurs."

"So these are the reasons people usually try voodoo?"

"Yep. Love, hate, summoning spirits . . . the trifecta. What's funny is that voodoo is really about understanding and manipulating natural forces, so those things aren't far off. People just approach it with entirely the wrong mindset."

"So this person wasn't casting real magic? How bad can it be?"

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Three hours later . . .

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"Never . . . EVER . . . ask 'How bad can it be?' EVER!" Henry said as the six "heroes" returned from their less than illustrious outing. Banshee and Lillian had been right. Some sixteen year old girl had attempted an "off voodoo" ritual to make a boy at school like her and had accidentally brought a next of EFIs into the Earth realm. EFI, as Banshee explained, stood for Evil Fucking Insect. They looked like ants, except for being six inches long, glowing yellow eyes, pincers that could bit a normal man's fingers off, and an extremely tough hide. There had been thousands of them wandering around, trying to get into the girl's magic circle, which she'd been smart enough to stay inside.

Shamira learned something new every day. Apparently when you summon something, it stays in the circle or out, but as soon as the caster crosses the line, bad things happened. Lillian had calmed the girl down, cast a temporary memory blocker that would ensure that the girl would forget all about the incident by the time she got home. The necromancer also implanted the notion into the girl's head that she might want to stay away from magic and try something safer. Like chess. Then clean up had begun, only to find a new and interesting detail. If you didn't burn the bugs to death, then their bodies exploded, coating everything with a stinky layer of bug guts.

So Banshee, Reaper, Lillian, Bjorne, Henry, and Shamira were all standing outside the garage while they and their armor were hosed down by Raul and Monique, who were both trying not to laugh. They were failing badly.

"Hey!" Shamira replied, looking at Reaper, "HE was the one who said, 'At least it couldn't get any worse.' Remember, right before the bugs started blowing up?"

Everyone stopped and paused, staring at Reaper. "She's got a point," Henry said.

After about twenty minutes of thorough soaking, they were all allowed back in the house under the promise that they would head immediately to their showers and scrub the remaining stink away. Shamira decided to cheat, so after peeling off her armor, she closed her eyes and stepped back into the shadows, looking through the house for her room.

'Hmm,' she though, I don't remember leaving the light on. 'Wait . . . walk-in closet!' She shifted through what she simply referred to as the shadow world, appearing in her closet. She opened the door and almost made Clara jump through the roof.

"Don't sneak up on me like that! Shadow jumping hussie!"

"My room," Shamira replied, speaking methodically as if to a child. "I can shadow jump all over the damn place if I want."

"You smell like ass. And not the good kind."

"I've been up to my neck in stinky bug corpses for several hours. Nothing smells good after that." She walked past the intruding lovely, who hadn't changed out of her television-watching "clothes." Clara was pinching her nose shut and waving a hand in front of her face. She got into her bathroom, thankful for the walk-in shower that was separate from the tub. She could rinse the worst of the smell away before soaking in a nice hot bath. Then she would get up . . . She stopped in the process of turning on the water. Was she ready for what happened when she woke up? Was Renata right? Was she going to go back to being submissive only to feel weird about it afterward? At least when fighting the EFIs, she didn't have to think about such things.

"What's up?" Clara asked. "If you forgot, you turn them to the left if you want the water to come out of the magic pipes."

Shamira shot her a look, but it was more sad than annoyed. She'd lost a lot of her free time to the evening's mission, so she hadn't gotten to watch the games or do the thinking that she'd want. "Don't suppose you recorded the games?"

"Lady, with the package that Shane's got with the cable company, we could watch every single damn game over and over again. It's scary. The Colts game rocked from what I saw of the scores."

"It might be nice," Shamira said, pumping up the warm water and stripping out of her clothes. "Start over. Just forgot that my 'day off' isn't necessarily a day off."

"Tell Shane you want to use your spare tomorrow," Clara said. "Still thinking about what Renata said?"

"Yeah. I think I'll do that. Do I need to send out an email?"

"Nah, I'll let Shane know. Word spreads pretty quickly around here. Henry's gonna be pissed though. He was looking forward to you coming back on the market."

"So that's what he meant by 'soon enough.' Bastard."

"I think you'll have fun with Henry. Hell, I think you'll have fun with everyone, but it's good that you figure things out." Suddenly Clara looked a little . . . sad? Yes, sad. "I guess that means you're not up to finishing our game earlier?"

Shamira was very sure of one thing at that moment. She didn't want Clara to leave. "Like you'd want to play now?"

Clara grinned and pushed Shamira back into the steam and falling water. "With the body scrubs you've got in here, you'll be freshened up in no time."

"What body scrubs?"

"The ones I put in here."

"Why'd you do that?"

Clara rolled her eyes. "So I'd have something to lather all over that rock-hard body?! Duh!" Clara hadn't bothered to take off her panties or half-shirt, and both were now soaked all the way though as she stood in the shower with Shamira. Her nipples were practically saluting the other woman from the tops of those perky little hills.

Shamira smiled. "So, you think I'm that easy?"

"Easy? You? Girl, you're NOT easy. But complicated people are much more fun." She spun Shamira around and started undoing that long braid. "Girl, you have a whole lotta gorgeous hair here. Why don't you wear it out more often?"

"Gets in the way," Shamira said. This was another new experience for her, showering with another person, much less a gorgeous woman who apparently planned on fooling around. Feeling someone else's hands running through her hair felt really nice, and there was something sensual about Clara helping her shampoo. And the girl had been right; once the body sponge and wash were broken out, Shamira was smelling much better in no time. She'd never thought of trying to smell "nice" before, but she'd not discount the idea again.

"That smells incredible," she muttered. "Like fresh oranges."

"It's a citrus base," Clara said, running her hand over Shamira's slick and soapy buttocks, then caressed those incredible thighs. "Why do you ever wear clothes?" she said, moving her hands up the long muscles of her friend's back. "This is a masterpiece."

"Public exposure laws?" Shamira was shuddering under Clara's butterfly touches. She wanted those hands on her hips, her chest, and between her thighs. And she wanted to feel those lips. "You're still wearing clothes."

"Yep."

"Not fair."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Shamira heard the challenge. If tonight wasn't going to be about submitting to this woman's will, then she would have to make some moves of her own. So she turned around and ripped the shirt in half. "Oops."

Clara grinned. "I've got more."

Shamira felt her hands running up Clara's sides, but her eyes never left those of her lover-to-be's. Then her hand found those soft, warm, wonderful breasts, and she squeezed them gently and rolled the nipples between her thumbs and fingers. Clara closed her eyes and moaned happily, and responded by cupping the massive globes attached to Shamira's chest, squeezing them like a child with Playdough.

"So do I smell alright now?"

"Hmm, let me check." Clara leaned in until hands were pushed aside and bodies were pressed together. Her hand reached around and felt that tight ass again while she sniffed the side of Shamira's neck. "Smells pretty," she paused to kiss her lover's neck, "damn good."

Shamira turned her face until Clara looked at her. She licked her lips, then planted the beginnings of a kiss on that wonderful woman's lips. And when Clara's tongue slipped into Shamira's mouth and they were pressed tightly together, then everything that had gone wrong in the last few days was forgotten. Clara's kisses were just that damn amazing.

Hands started to wander on both sides of the session, with Shamira's hand seeking the small of Clara's back and her ass while Clara's hands were on shoulder and breast respectively. Then Shamira started kissing her way down Clara's neck to her shoulder, from her shoulder to her breasts, from her breasts to her belly button. Then it was on to the promised land.

Kneeling, she looked up at Clara, water cascading down that light brown skin and past Shamira's active lips. She pulled down Clara's wet thong, then planted a long, slow kiss on the patch of skin just above paradise. Shamira liked this – on her knees in front of someone like this. With the outsides of her hands, she slowly pushed Clara's legs apart, the pressed her face into that delicious sex.

Clara chewed on her bottom lip and placed her hand on top of Shamira's head. She wanted to just grab the girl's head and grind that face against her pussy, but she was going to let the other woman dictate the pace this time. She wanted to see how far Shamira would go, and where Shamira would go.

Shamira extended her tongue, pushing it into Clara's slot and savoring. She didn't go straight for the clit, since she knew that Clara liked it when she played around first. How much she had learned from that one session. She thrust a finger up into that wet box, curling it slowly as she caressed the inner labia with her kisses and her tongue.

Clara lifted one leg and placed her knee on Shamira's shoulder, giving the woman before her better access, and damn was she making use of it. The girl had paid attention during their time together. 'And I'll teach her more tonight,' Clara thought as that strong tongue penetrated deeper into her quim. 'So much more.' She allowed herself to press her sex harder against Shamira's face, and the woman responded with increased activity and verve. 'Just learn to accept this and accept yourself,' Clara thought, 'and you'll be even more magnificent.'

The muscular woman decided to utilize a second finger, exploring Clara's insides while her lips attached themselves at last to the clit. Using her fingers like pistons, she worked quickly but methodically, and her tongue lashed her lover's nub over and over, then slowly lessened the assault, letting her tongue slip inside that warm cleft with her fingers.

"Don't stop, you mean little bitch," Clara growled, letting humor show in her voice.

Shamira responded with another quick oral blitzkrieg on that sensitive spot, and she quickly had Clara experiencing all the shivers and explosion of internal warmth that were associated with sweet, sweet release.

Clara just grinned happily, placed her hands on the sides of Shamira's face and pulled her up to her feet and into another kiss. "You taste like me," she whispered.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You . . . me . . . bed . . . soon."

"Yes ma'am."

They toweled each other off in record speed, Clara doing as much with Shamira's massive amounts of hair as she could in the short amount of time she was willing to spend. The she jumped into the larger woman's arms, wrapped her legs around that toned waist and kept their lips locked in some form or another until they fell unceremoniously onto Shamira's big bed.

"This is more like it," Clara muttered as they crawled into the middle of the bed. With Shamira on bottom, Clara flipped around until her breasts were hanging over her lover's face and Shamira's firm tits were pointed right up at her. She grabbed those 38DD tits with her hands, squeezing them and forcing the nipples into her mouth.

Shamira responded, but her caresses were much gentler and softer. Those hands that could break a vampire in half seemed to slide over Clara's body, and she nursed at the Native American's much smaller breasts as if she didn't have a care in the world. It was kind of infuriating, so she pressed her tits hard against Shamira's mouth, which at least got the girl to use her teeth a little. A few love bites on the nipples later, and things were just as they should be.

Clara made the next move, moving her kisses down that sculpted abdomen as she crawled southward, achieving a more traditional sixty-nine and burying her head between those thighs. She never went down on her submissive, but Shamira was her own woman tonight. All bets were off, and Clara was finally able to give that big, delicious clit all the attention that it so richly deserved. She passed her tongue directly over the nub and licked a swathe down the slot, then took the fleshy inner labia into her mouth and sucked away.

It was the muscular woman's desire to meet her mentor's actions lick for lick and suck for suck, but Clara was putting on a clinic. She was reduced to a slobbering amateur within seconds, or so it seemed.

'Get . . . head . . . back in game,' she thought, then she chuckled at her use of the word "head." Clara was an artist, so Shamira just needed to learn from her. She kept her mouth moving, but paid attention to her lover's tricks, finding places to put her tongue, teeth, and lips, as well as ways to move them. She nuzzled Clara's clit with her chin while her tongue and lips were deeply embedded in the woman's pleasure box.

Clara was much impressed by Shamira's learning curve. 'I'll make her an oral master yet. Well, not as good as me.' She placed her mouth in a wide circle around Shamira's large nub and drew her lips slowly inward until the clit was in her mouth, and she sucked at it, gentle at first but increasing the pressure slowly but surely.

Shamira caught herself in the act of asking permission to cum. She didn't need to do that here, not that she really minded. It was almost mind-numbing how Clara kept her mouth moving as Shamira climaxed, lapping up the wetness that came pouring out. Clara thought she would drown, if she really had any need for air anymore. Her hands gripped Shamira's ass tightly and just held the woman's crotch to her face, licking and nuzzling that sweet sex as it recovered.

"Oh God," Shamira muttered, then licked Clara's pussy. "How --" Her brain wasn't back online after orgasm.

"Lots and lots of practice," Clara said, running her tongue between her lover's folds. "You are so fucking sexy," she continued, kissing her way around the mound.

The two women remained locked in this position – probing, exploring, and making each other cum one more time each.

"Time for toys," Clara said at last, her face glistening and slick with juices. She spun around until she was lying on top of her friend, reveling in Shamira's content expression before kissing her again. It was a long, slow meeting of lips and tongues, mixing each other's juices and just enjoying their closeness. 'Why does kissing her get me going like this?' she thought. Strangely, it was the same thing that Shamira was thinking.

"Toys?"

Clara reached over the side of the bed and grabbed a bag that Shamira didn't remember being there when she'd left to fight the ants.

"You really were being presumptuous, weren't you?" she asked.

"Sweetheart," Clara replied, "after the day we spent on the couch, I knew you were a sure thing."

"You make me sound so cheap."

"Cheap is fine with me. Hey, if you ever want to dress up like a hooker --" Clara stopped when she saw a bizarre look of longing flash across Shamira's face. "You do, don't you? I don't remember seeing that one on the list!"

"I . . . I never really thought about it until you mentioned it."

Clara grinned and pulled a double-ended, bright pink dildo. "Lie back," she said, pushing Shamira's legs apart and working the head of the device into the girl's body. She went slowly, because Shamira was nice and tight. 'Every time I fist her, it'll be like the first time all over again,' she thought with a smile. 'Especially if she's lucky.'

Just the thought of this magnificent creature cumming until she passed out got Clara's blood boiling. She pushed half of the dildo into Shamira's body, turned around and eased the other end into herself until their pussies were touching. Then Clara started to bounce a little, withdrawing and then pushing back, letting her full pussy rub up against her lover's.