Kismet Ch. 14byTE999©
Afsoon moved with catlike grace along the corridor of the British Embassy in Azerbaidistan, her gum rubber sandals soundless on the thick wool carpeting. She found the door to the Code Room locked, but a few deft manipulations with her lock picking tools opened it. The room stank of ozone as it also contained the wireless transmitter used to communicate with the central office in London.
She carefully opened the drawers of the desks one by one looking for the code book, then searched the radio desk and console finally finding it under a sheaf of messages marked 'Most Urgent'. The sound of footsteps sent her leaping into the shadows, relying on her skin tight hood and suit of black silk to offer concealment.
The door swung open and a man in uniform entered holding a candle. He rummaged in a desk for a moment, found what he was looking for and departed, none the wiser that Afsoon could reach out and tweak his moustache if she chose.
Slipping the code book into a pouch on her belt, she made her way back down the hall to the second story window where she had entered, opened it carefully, climbed onto the sill and slid down a rope secured to the ornate masonry with a grappling hook.
Moving quickly, she threaded her way through the embassy's back garden towards the security gate she had jimmied open earlier. "Halt! Halt or I'll shoot," said a voice from the darkness. Afsoon stopped in her tracks, not moving a muscle as a young soldier, rifle pointing at her, stepped into view.
"You are trespassing on private property. You are under arrest. Do not move or I shall ..." A stunning blow brought him to his knees and another lay him out on the ground.
"I wondered where you were," Afsoon whispered to Farisa emerging from a hedge holding a short club. "I have the code book. Let us be gone." They ran through the gate, Afsoon jamming the lock to slow pursuit, disappearing down a succession of dark alleyways, finally entering an unmarked door.
Several men in hoods and brown robes sat in a half circle about a table illuminated by an elaborately finished glass chandelier. Afsoon and Farisa stood before them and waited.
"You have the code book?" one said.
Afsoon placed it on the table.
The men passed it among themselves, flipping the pages.
"It is good. You may go," said another. The women turned on their heels and went out the door, closing it behind them.
"An excellent training exercise," said one.
"Well executed with a minimum of fuss," said another.
"I deem them ready," said another.
"I shall inform the Sultan," said another. They arose from their chairs and disappeared through a hidden door, the room going dark behind them.
Ghazi Kamel bin Nawwaf Risay, General of the Armies, was relaxing in bed with his most favored houri when a messenger arrived bearing a small linen pouch. Upon opening it he discovered a gold ring set with a ruby of uncommon size and quality; worth a king's ransom, no doubt. His eyes glittered.
"Such a beautiful ring," exclaimed the woman.
Risay smiled. Only his former lover Mada knew of his fondness for rubies. She had not forgotten him. One day he would rule Azlan's kingdom and she would be his once again. He slid the ring on his finger, barely feeling a pinprick on his skin.
"Is it not beautiful, Nejia?" he began, then stiffened and began shaking violently, a bloody foam forming on his lips. She ran for help and when they returned Risay lay grotesquely contorted on the floor, face frozen in a rictus of exquisitely painful death.
A 'clerk' bowed before the Sultan saying "The traitor is dead, sire."
"Allah's will be done," was the reply.
Afsoon watched with pride as her lover Farisa dueled with two members of the Black Legion, her lithe body twisting away from their cuts and thrusts, striking them each in turn with her wooden practice scimitar until the instructor called a halt.
"That is enough for today. Well done, Farisa. I must admit I had my doubts when you were selected for training in the Legion, but as usual, the Sultan was correct in his judgment."
"I am honored by your compliment, Muizz," she replied. "I shall strive to do even better in the future."
He turned to address the other combatants when Farisa saw Afsoon watching and went to her. They embraced and kissed passionately, no longer fearing to express their love in public.
"You were magnificent, my love," Afsoon said happily, not caring that the sweat from her lovers scantily clad ebony body was staining her blouse and pantaloons of fine silk.
"When I fight, I imagine I am fighting in your defense, my treasure," Farisa replied. "How goes your training."
"Quite well, my German is improving, I learned the art of secret writing today and tomorrow I begin the arts of inflicting silent death."
"Do you think we will be chosen to go on a mission together once again?"
"I do not know. We were certainly successful the first time. Let us go bathe and be together. I have missed you."
Farisa quivered and moaned as Afsoon's tongue explored the silken depths of her wet pussy. So eager for each other, they had not even dried themselves from their bath before returning to their quarters to make love. Farisa's feminine juices were as ambrosia in Afsoon's mouth as she drank deep of her lover, Farisa's ebony thighs clasping her tightly as she licked and sucked the engorged clit until her lover's scream of joy echoed in the room and her mouth was filled with warm ejaculate.
When Afsoon was finally released from her lover's grip, she crawled up her body, Farisa licking her still warm juices from her lips and face "You bring me such pleasure, my dear one," she purred, hugging her tightly, "Let me recover my senses and I shall return the favor."
"Take me from behind, then," Afsoon replied, kneeling with her ass in the air and her head cradled in her arms on the blanket. Farisa began lavishing slow, lingering licks on her lover's pussy and asshole, carefully increasing the pace until Afsoon was shuddering and whimpering with desire, begging to be fucked.
Farisa reached for their pouch of love toys, withdrawing two leather dildos, each in the shape of a man's penis, worming one slowly into Afsoon's gooey pussy, then with drawing it and easing it into her puckered asshole. The second dildo slid easily into her pussy and she moaned in delight at being completely filled.
Farisa fucked her lover slowly, delighting in her moans and squeals, first alternating then uniting her strokes into her, occasionally kissing and licking her firm ass cheeks, further enhancing the sensations.
"Harder, harder my love," Afsoon cried, "I'm so close. Do me!"
Farisa complied, thrusting rapidly and deep into her lover's holes until Afsoon screamed from the intensity of her orgasm and collapsed onto the blanket. Farisa cuddled her in her arms until she recovered; then they kissed and hugged, finally falling asleep with bodies entwined.
Engines purring at cruising speed, the HRMAS 'Goblin' soared through the skies of Azerbaidistan. It's mission; to convey a new code book to their embassy in the capitol, such was the secrecy of the new codes. The Crown's pending mutual non-aggression pact with the Sultan was in the 'Most Secret' category and the new wireless codes would maintain that secrecy.
"The guard at the embassy distinctly remembers the person he had captured being a woman," mused Richard Hedley-Smythe of MI 5 to Air Captain Reginald ffolkes as they took high tea in the forward cabin of the 'Goblin'.
"A woman, surely not," The Captain replied. "Capering about in the dark and clubbing soldiers senseless; possibly it was a lithe young man and in the excitement of the moment he erred in his identification."
"Hardly," Hedley-Smythe chuckled, "Her bust line gave her away. Besides, he regained consciousness briefly and swears he heard a woman's voice. It is most intriguing."
"Sent you to investigate, have they?"
"That and to make sure this code book," he patted his jacket pocket, "Is kept in a secure place this time. Deuced Foreign Office types are forever underestimating the capabilities of their host's countrymen."
"Right-o! Sneaky little buggers, they are. My cousin is stationed in Rawalpindi with the 18th Royal Fusiliers and they had a houseboy that everyone trusted. It turns out the little sneak was ..."
A whistle from the speaking tube interrupted the Captain's tale.
"Nearing the Sultan's palace Captain, how shall we proceed?"
"Put engines one, two, seven and eight into whisper mode, feather props on the other four. We'll hover as close to the Embassy roof as possible and count on the lateness of the hour and our night camouflage to keep our arrival a secret. Have gun crews four and five placed on alert in case were challenged."
"Engines in whisper mode, gun crews alerted aye-aye."
"You'll have to use the cable ladder, old man. I hope that's not a problem."
"Not at all, it's better than sliding down a rope."
Mada, first wife of the Sultan, dismissed the serving girl with a wave of her hand and stood alone at the palace window lost in thought, the night breeze cool on her face. So much had happened of late. It was most unsettling. First Risay had fled to the enemy camp like a whipped dog, barely leaving her enough time to cover her tracks. Then that cursed Englishwoman Hera had found favor in the eyes of that young pup and was forever beyond her clutches.
She smiled; at least the daughter of that English bitch had been made a sex slave. She wondered who owned her now that Risay had fled. A gloved hand slapped over her mouth, muffling her scream of terror. Her arms pinioned behind her, she struggled to no avail and stood trembling.
"Hearken to my words, spawn of a hyena," a voice growled in her ear and she flinched as she felt the touch of cold steel on her throat. "Cry for help and you will choke on your own blood. Do you understand?"
Mada nodded, breathing in short gasps.
"Who ... who are you?" she croaked, "Why are you here, how did you ..."
"Silence! I have brought you a message. Is the name Afsoon familiar to you?"
"Why yes, she was the daughter of my husband's second wife ..."
"Do you know where she is at this moment?"
"I know not. She disappeared months ago and we have not heard ..."
"Liar! She languished in the harem of your husband's general and was cruelly abused."
Mada began to sweat in spite of the night breeze, the blade at her throat had nicked her skin and she felt a trickle of blood on her neck.
"I ... I did not know of this I swear I ..."
"Again you lie. Your tongue is that of the Sand Adder, forked and deadly. You knew all along of the woman's fate, yet you said nothing." The vice-like grip on her wrists tightened. "You condemned an innocent woman to a life of degradation and shame and for that you must pay."
"Please, please, don't kill me," Mada babbled, shivering in terror. "Yes I knew. I knew it all. I had to do it you see. The English bitch had taken the love of my husband from me and ..."
"Silence, you pathetic wretch, I am but a messenger. It is for another to exact vengeance. It is enough that you know that death is now at your very elbow. Every breath, every step, every word may be your last. Now I must go, but I shall leave you with a memento of our meeting and these words; Afsoon is free."
A gloved hand muffled Mada's shriek of pain as the razor sharp blade sliced through her right nostril and blood spurted onto the windowsill. The steely muscles that had held her upright released her and she crumpled to the floor, whimpering piteously.
"Farisa, my love, where have you been, I awakened and you were gone."
"I did not mean to worry you, my flower. I could not sleep and decided to take the air hoping it would make me drowsy."
"Come to bed then. I desire your warmth against me."
"With pleasure; you awaken my desires, dearest Afsoon."
"I am likewise aroused ... is this blood? Have you injured yourself?"
"It is nothing, a scratch, you smell of sandalwood, kiss me."
"Do try to keep this one in a safe place, old top," Hedley-Smythe said wryly, handing the code book to Vice-Consul Reginald Heathcroft who took it with a frown.
"An honest mistake I assure you. Surely not enough of a dust-up to send a spook of your caliber to this fetid backwater."
"As Director Mycroft's brother says, the game is afoot, Reggie. A non-aggression pact is imminent between this fetid backwater, as you put it, and the Crown. When that becomes official, the place will be crawling with spies, especially those deuced Prussians wondering what's up. I'm here to keep an eye on things."
"A non-aggression pact, eh, the rumor mill's been working overtime on that one. Now, let's get you to your room and I'll have a bath drawn. What's it like riding in an airship? It has to be better than that filthy train the chaps and I rode in when we came here."
"Lady Mada!" her Royal Attendant cried, "What has happened to your face? You're cut and bleeding. Fatima, summon a healer immediately."
"I arose in the night and fell while seeking the water jug," Mada replied. "I know now I should have summoned one of the serving women to get it for me."
"You need to be more careful," The attendant said. "You could have been seriously hurt."
"You have no idea how close I came," Mada replied with a sigh.