Chapter 110(Orphan) draft 2
In the rain choked perpetual darkness of Muntilliko Island on the tropical Night World/Daemon World planet of Dark Tropic, up on the roof of Chaos Champion of Slaanesh Wendy Sevenson's towering dungeon skyscraper, hundreds of dripping wet naked female Slaaneshi tickle fetish slaves in infrared night vision goggles, were clumsily and girlishly throwing deadly metal darts off the roof to strike the tyranid choked ground far below.
It was technically "dawn" in the morning right now, at least according to all the clocks that kept track of the time, but dawn looked exactly the same pitch black as any other time of day on this volcanic ash clouded Night World planet. Somewhere far above the dim feeble local star might well be creeping over the dawn horizon, but the thick clouds of volcanic ash in the extreme upper atmosphere blocked out this light long before it reached the surface.
It was raining very hard right at this moment, and not pleasant to be outside right now, but the hapless naked tickle slaves were all slaves as the name suggested, and they had to do what they were told whether they liked it or not. They were all less than enthusiastic to be out here getting rained on, but they all feared a flogging if they abandoned their posting.
It wasn't exactly dangerously cold rain, Dark Tropic was too warm and balmy to ever get truly cold except at the most extreme altitudes, it was just unpleasant on the naked skin of the gentle tickle slaves. Their beautiful very long hair stuck wetly to their backs and shoulders and foreheads in a way that was perfectly irritating, and their skin was soaked with unpleasantly lukewarm rainwater that seemed neither freezing cold nor comfortably warm on their naked bodies, just slightly too cold to be comfortable, a perpetual slight damp chill that was safe but unpleasant.
The Slaaneshi tickle fetish slaves were all gorgeous lesbian bondage playthings of Slaanesh Champion Wendy Sevenson, all trawled from Wendy's innumerable sex dungeons and unhappily pressed into military duty during this tyranid invasion.
In times of peace these insatiably kinky Slaanesh worshipping tickling fetishists lived naked in perpetual bondage, tickled 16 hours a day by daemonettes to feed Slaanesh with the psychic energy of their extreme pleasure, forming a sort of extremely kinky psychic "choir" to draw the attention of Slaanesh. Slaanesh Champions like Wendy often kept excessively large slave "choirs" like this in an attempt to draw the gaze and favour of Slaanesh, as it helped the champion become a daemon prince faster if Slaanesh's attention was drawn like this. Nothing was more likely to attract Slaanesh's attention then uncountable thousands of naked women engaged in some weird fetish, the more unusual or unique the fetish the better.
Different Slaanesh Champions had different fetish choirs, reflecting both the individual kinks of the champion in question and a sense of flair to do something that no one else had ever tried before. Wendy's choir focused on the obscure fetish of "lesbian tickle bondage" in an attempt to gain attention from Slaanesh, unique enough and kinky enough to stand out from the competing champions. They were quite effective so far, and Slaanesh's gaze had remained on Wendy for some time now thanks to this choir of kinky lesbian slaves.
Normally these slaves never left their bondage, most of them had barely left their choir dungeons in years in fact. They were usually only released from their restraints just long enough each day to maintain the ability to use their arms and legs, lest their muscles atrophy away from lack of use. They even slept in bondage, ate their meals in bondage, went to the toilet in bondage and got bathed while in bondage. They were all enthusiastic nudists, naked all the time for so many years that they now found clothing unbearably uncomfortable to wear.
These extremely kinky lesbian women had all volunteered for this life of kinky slavery, indeed these positions had been extremely difficult to get, with a lengthy interview process that only chose the best applicants. The competition for these slave positions had been extreme, with over a thousand applicants for every position vacancy. For certain Slaanesh worshipping individuals with the right sexual kinks, this kinky slavery was the very definition of heaven, their wildest sexual fantasy. Every single one of these young women had fought hard to get here, all had enthusiastically consented to their lives of kinky slavery.
For years these enthusiastic kinksters had indulged their wildest sexual fantasies in comfortable strict bondage, their every waking moment spent in intense pleasure. They had been washed and pampered, hand fed and waited on, never required to do any work, incessantly spoilt rotten for years in orgasmic pleasure. It had been pure heaven for them.
But now a bunch of tyranids had come and infested their island. The tyranids had bred ferociously, had killed and eaten over half the population of this heavily populated island, and the situation was now so desperate that even these decadent fetish slaves had been pulled from their comfortable sex dungeons to help fight!
The tickle slaves were NOT happy about this!
Stuck up on a rooftop in the rain! This was an outrage!
The roof was a horrid place the slaves thought, it didn't even have a roof over their heads to stop the rain. The rooftop edge was merely surrounded by a breast height thick metal armoured battlement, that formed both a safety rail to prevent falling and cover to shelter from any incoming gunfire, and much of the rooftop itself was currently covered in lines of metal boxes full of various objects the tickle slaves were to throw. These battlements and lines of boxes were hardly any shelter from this horrid rain.
Down far below them, the tickle slaves could see the dot shapes of horrid hormagaunts and rippers in the streets around the skyscraper, all appearing shades of green in their infrared night vision goggles. The beautiful young slave women shuddered at the sight of these horrid monsters, they were all extremely gentle and highly feminine women, not hardened soldiers, they didn't like scary things or violence.
The gentle slaves most definitely didn't want to be out in the uncomfortable rain around these scary monsters, but they also most definitely didn't want to be flogged by the mean security guardsmen who worked for their owner Mistress Wendy, so they reluctantly stayed and kept dropping things off the roof.
The tickle slaves present on the rooftop were not the entire tickle slave population of the building, not even close, the vast bulk of their fellow tickle sisters were safely enjoying the relative comfort of the inside of the building doing other important duties. Only these several hundred who had been unlucky enough to be randomly conscripted for rooftop duty were up here, it was nasty up here.
The tickle slaves were throwing deadly things off the roof onto the tyranids below. Some gently tossed down thick hard biscuits of compacted seaweed as food baits to attract as many tyranids as possible to the base of the building. The rest of the tickle slaves girlishly threw brutal metal darts down on the scary tyranid bugs that gathered around the baits.
The tickle slaves were tossing handfuls of small but heavyish 4 centimetre long metal darts, shaped like tiny versions of finned pointy aircraft bombs, objects with no explosive in them that simply relied on gravity to speed them up to lethal velocity as they fell.
The slave girls couldn't throw properly, tossing the things gently the way wussy harmless girls do, but the fins on the weighted objects corrected their orientation in flight so they pointed straight down. The skyscraper was very tall, it was a long way down, and the tossed projectiles gained murderous velocity by the time they reached the distant ground, punching into the pavement like bullets.
The falling projectiles did horrific damage to any hormagaunt or ripper they hit, and with the seaweed biscuit baits being dropped down on the street the ground was currently thick with a carpet of the hungry things. Many of the falling projectiles were hitting tyranids.
"Stop throwing off the east side for a while, the hormagaunts just fled again," a male voice dominantly commanded from the east edge of the rooftop.
"Yes Security Guardsman Potts, Sir", all the tickle slaves on the east side of the roof said very submissively, and stopped throwing things as commanded.
"Can we please get out of the rain now Sir?," one of the tickle slaves asked hopefully.
"For the one hundredth time no!, Stop asking!," the mean Security Guardsman Potts snapped crossly.
The slave girls pouted unhappily and sat down glumly in the heavy rain.
The rooftop of the towering square based skyscraper building was completely flat and open, with only the breast height safety wall around the edges and a single heavily armoured entrance stairwell to provide any sort of permanent shelter. The rooftop was composed of military grade armoured material clad in a layer of acid resistant ballistic plastic, and had a circular landing pad painted in the middle of the roof for small aircraft like helicopters to land on.
The landing pad area was cleared, but much of the rest of the roof had lines of metal storage boxes mostly containing the thrown projectiles, and a few boxes containing seaweed bait biscuits.
The massive skyscraper was much taller than every other building less than 500 meters away, giving excellent line of sight from the rooftop, but it was sandwiched between two much shorter skyscraper buildings, one on the north and one on the south, meaning that only the east and west sides of the building had street access. The streets had names of course, but the tickle slaves couldn't remember what they were called after so many years locked in their dungeons, the Security Guardsmen on the other hand were all ex-military and called everything by their compass directions to avoid any confusion, calling them East street and West street.
The tickle slaves on the roof were split into two groups, one group on the east side of the massive rooftop and one on the west, all miserably exposed to the pelting tropical rain. The rooftop of course had plentiful drainage to stop the roof flooding, as the designers were not completely stupid, but quite sizeable puddles covered the rooftop during this heavy downpour, pooling around the slave girls' bare feet in a way that was most unpleasant.
To each group of slaves was assigned one of the highly trained and experienced "Security Guardsmen" of Mistress Wendy's private skyscraper security forces, all of them professional ex-military servicemen who now lived permanently in the tower as extremely highly paid mercenaries. The Security Guardsmen all outranked the lowly tickle slaves, and constantly bossed them around and flogged them if they were disobedient, acting as supervisors to the gentle women.
The east group of tickle slaves on the roof was currently under the command of Security Guardsman Potts, a carapace armoured middle aged combat veteran. He was easily bigger and stronger than the gentle young women, but not amazingly large, maybe 6 foot tall. He was slightly more muscular than an average civilian man would be, but no serious body builder, but this was still intimidating strength to these harmless women.
Security Guardsman Potts had a stern hard face, like a lot of combat veterans tended to get over time, but he was not unusually nasty. He had a cruel long whip rolled up and hanging from his belt, and he didn't hesitate to use it on the tickle slaves when they especially misbehaved, but he didn't go out of his way to abuse them.
His pitch black security uniform under his expensive carapace armour was absolutely soaked through, as were his black security boots, rain dripped off his black helmet and night vision goggles, he looked utterly bedraggled and sick of the rain, and doubly sick of the incessant complaining of the unhappy tickle slaves.
Security Guardsman Potts dutifully held his post in the pelting rain gazing down over the edge of the battlements at the street far below, as the spoilt tickle slaves huddled down beside boxes for some meagre shelter. His eyes were sharp and alert, watching the street far below for activity.
The east street was currently a charnel pit of dead hormagaunts and rippers, the thousands of clumsily tossed "Lazy Dog" gravity powered darts having punched right through the tyranid bodies, splitting through bones and brains and organs with ease.
The hormagaunts had fled for the moment, their instinctive behaviour making them flee away from this hail of death from the sky, but they would soon be back.
The street pavement was carpeted with horribly punctured bodies, as well as dropped seaweed baits, (and countless small impact holes from deeply embedded Lazy Dogs), and the starving hormagaunts and rippers could smell this massive carpet of food. Soon hunger would force them to try to eat this food, and the deadly rain of thrown Lazy Dogs could continue anew.
"How much longer do we have to do this Security Guardsman Potts Sir?," a whining tickle slave voice loudly asked him yet again.
Security Guardsman Potts growled in annoyance at the question.
"Why are we even doing this?, It's wet and cold and boring out here. These night vision goggles are uncomfortable."
"You are testing my patience," Security Guardsman Potts warned the irritating young women.
"But killing scary tyranids is BOY stuff! Why aren't the big strong Security Guardsmen doing this instead of us?, You boys would be so much better at this than me, I can't even throw these heavy darts properly, they are too heavy!" A female tickle slave voice complained a few meters behind him.
"The Lazy Dogs only weigh about 20 grams each!, a child could throw them!" Security Guardsman Potts exclaimed in disbelief.
"I have lived in almost constant bondage for years, I don't use my arms very much, they got weak. I only got untied for like 30 minutes a day until recently." The tickle slave whined defensively.
Security Guardsman Potts shrugged at this, it made sense.
"Big strong boys would be *so* much better at throwing these things, why aren't they the ones doing this?" The slave begged submissively.
"We can't spare the security manpower without compromising the defence of the building. If hundreds of the security boys were up here and the rooftop got hit by a barrage of artillery shells, our entire security force would be instantly decimated, if the building was then stormed by enemies there wouldn't be enough men left to fight off the invaders," Security Guardsman Potts explained matter-of-factly.
The girls all squawked in horror, and began to loudly panic.
"Anyone who flees will get a flogging!" Security Guardsman Potts shouted severely, looking up from his watch to glare at the mass of frightened girls.
"We will get blown up! It's not safe!"
"It will be fine, relax," he dismissed their fear.
"If it's so safe then use the Security Guardsmen!"
"The Security Guardsmen are vital to building security, you slave girls on the other hand are completely expendable. It doesn't really matter if you die," Security Guardsman Potts told the exasperating young women callously, utterly sick of their constant complaining now.
The slave girls started to cry.
"Oh for fucks sake! Stop being such a pain in my ass! Stop blubbering and shut up!"
"We're SCARED!"
"I'm up here too, you don't hear me complaining about it," Security Guardsman Potts criticised the wussy girls.
"At least you have ARMOUR!, We are all nude!"
"I *offered* you armour and clothing remember! You all refused to wear it!" Security Guardsman Potts snapped incredulously.
"But it was UNCOMFORTABLE!"
"You are all utterly spoilt brats, I am so fucking sick of your whinging." Security Guardsman Potts snarled at the young women.
Something caught his gaze suddenly, the tyranids had returned to the east street to feed.
"The nids are back, start tossing those Lazy Dogs girls," Security Guardsman Potts commanded urgently.
"Yes Security Guardsman Potts Sir," the unhappy girls murmured reluctantly but submissively.
Hundreds of thrown cast iron Lazy Dogs started filling the air with appalling accuracy, some barely clearing the battlements, these girls couldn't throw for shit.
No matter how poorly thrown these Lazy Dogs were, it was a LONG way down to the pavement below, and the fins soon pointed all of them perfectly downwards. The brutal cast iron darts picked up speed as they fell, soon hurtling downwards at extreme velocity.
The pavement below was swarming with thousands of hormagaunts hungrily feeding on the abundant carrion, not to mention many tens of thousands of hunger crazy rippers. The Lazy Dogs made no sound audible over the roar of the rain as they hurtled downwards ever faster, the tyranids couldn't detect their falling doom.
Suddenly, the first few Lazy Dogs punched right through the heads and bodies of hormagaunts and rippers at blistering speeds, instantly punching out the bottom of their bodies and deeply embedding into the pavement with brutal velocity.
The tyranids fell down dead in droves as more and more Lazy Dogs pounded down on them, and the tyranids milled around in a confused panic, the tickle slaves' appalling lack of accuracy making shots fall all over the place so that the tyranids didn't know where to run.
Hormagaunts had extremely fast reflexes and very quickly figured out that they were in deadly peril, they were starting to flee in huge bounding leaps in both directions down the street.
The tickle slaves were still clumsily throwing darts with terrible lack of skill, and many Lazy Dogs were going wide, some glancing off walls and others landing quite far away down the street, so that an unpredictable rain of death lanced through the fleeing hormagaunts.
All the hormagaunts with any sense had left now, many hundreds of them now dead, but the hunger mad rippers were far less intelligent, continuing to eat ravenously even as death rained all around them.
The gentle tickle slaves obediently kept girlishly throwing small handfuls of Lazy Dogs over the side of the building, the hundreds of girls moving between the Lazy Dog storage boxes and the edge of the building, carrying pathetic tiny handfuls of the crayon sized darts in their extremely weak hands. Borderline useless as these extremely spoilt young women were, there were hundreds of them, and working together they were dropping down quite a respectable fusillade of Lazy Dogs.
The rippers were getting annihilated by the falling darts, the cast iron projectiles punching right through the rippers and disappearing deep into the pavement under them. Ripper brains poured out of holes in their skulls, guts and digestive juices poured out of punctured abdomens.
Thousands and thousands of rippers were dying every minute, but they didn't run, just kept eating, and more of the insane hungry things arrived at the meat pile every second.
"Stop throwing, save them for the hormagaunts, we only have a finite number of Lazy Dogs," Security Guardsman Potts ordered the slaves.
The tickle slaves didn't need to be told twice to stop doing any work and the rain of projectiles ceased once again.
"Can we go now Sir?," one of the tickle slaves instantly complained.
Security Guardsman Potts groaned with exasperation.
"It's wet, and cold. I don't like it."
"I'm tired, these dart things are heavy."
"I am getting rained on."
"My hair is wet..."
"For fucks sake can you all shut the fuck up!" Security Guardsman Potts shouted at the spoilt brats.
"Yes Sir," girls said submissively, sounding extremely unhappy.
The silence didn't last very long before the girls were complaining yet again...
Security Guardsman Potts was very close to the end of his patience now, he took out his whip warningly.
The girls fell silent one by one as they noticed the whip, they were all complete cowards who were terrified of the whip.
"That's better!", Security Guardsman Potts snapped triumphantly.
The silence was glorious.
"(Whisper), Security Guardsman Potts is mean..."
(Repeated whip cracks)
Security Guardsman Potts angrily flogged the girl who had dared to speak, but not hard enough to truly hurt the girl. The girl was a wuss however and sobbed from the gentle whipping.
The rest of the spoilt brats were scared of the whip now, and they actually stayed silent for a change.
Security Guardsman Potts sighed with relief at the silence and returned his attention to the street below, enhancing the magnification on his infrared night vision goggles to get a clear close up view of the street many hundreds of meters below him.
Only a tiny number of hormagaunts had returned to the street to feed so far, the hormagaunts were starting to get spooked from the repeated Lazy Dogs and were shunning the pile of tyranid carrion.
The rippers on the other hand were swarming by the tens of thousands, gorging themselves on sickening amounts of carrion, their abdomens distending horribly as they tried to consume over 40 kilograms of food in a single sitting. It was a disgusting sight.
Some of the fattest rippers were becoming still now after gorging themselves, their distended fat bodies were changing shape. One by one these fat rippers transformed into tough shelled pupae, beginning the next stage of their life cycle. In only a few hours these pupae would split open and become full grown hormagaunts. These pupae however would never get the chance, the repeated barrages of Lazy Dogs would easily kill them long before they hatched.
(Rumbling hum of machinery)
Security Guardsman Potts turned around at the sound, the heavily armoured roof stairwell access doorway was opening on heavy hydraulics.
The 3 foot thick ceramite door was sliding open noisily on metal tracks, sliding sideways into a wall recess as it opened fully.
A tall elegant female figure in a skintight armoured dark eldar body glove sauntered out the doorway with exaggerated erotic flicks of her hips, an extremely long eldar sniper rifle held lazily over her shoulders between her forearms and the back of her neck as though she were in a full-Nelson wrestling hold. Her head was bare, her extremely long hair hanging down stylishly from an extremely tall top knot, and over her eyes she wore an extremely elegant pair of shapely dark eldar night vision goggles.
The figure elegantly sauntered towards the east group, and the armoured door noisily slid closed again behind her as she walked.
She was obviously a dark eldar, but she was even more obviously stunningly beautiful, jaw droppingly gorgeous. The skin tight body glove hid nothing of her highly sculpted slender curves, even the shape of her rather large and pointy nipples showing through the extremely thin high tech eldar mesh armour. Every detail of every muscle was visible, her mouth watering slender abdominal muscle bumps, the well toned muscles in her long and slender legs, not to mention one hell of a lovely camel toe at her crotch.
She was elegant beautiful, glamorous beautiful, the beauty of an extremely well sculpted tall slender runway super model rather than the beauty of a busty porn star. Her tits looked wonderful for her long slender build, but she was not outrageously busty like Slaanesh Champion Wendy Sevenson was, the eldar woman was the tall and slender type of beauty, just extremely elegant and pretty. Her face was highly sculpted and glamorously beautiful, cheek bones pronounced and the skin of her face extremely tight without sign of wrinkle.
Security Guardsman Potts recognised this exquisite specimen instantly as being Dracon Belzevelle, a personal pleasure consort of Slaanesh Champion Wendy Sevenson herself!
"Exalted Consort?!, What are you doing up here on the roof?," Security Guardsman Potts addressed the high ranking consort in surprise.
"I came to help of course, some fine sharp shooting should prove fine sport this fine morning," Belzevelle laughed melodically in a lyrical elegant voice.
The provocative dark eldar sauntered right up to him, rifle still across her shoulders, and Security Guardsman Potts couldn't help looking the gorgeous thing up and down.
"Pretty aren't I?, Only the prettiest things capture the attention of my beloved Mistress Wendy. Feel free to look," Belzevelle said with carefree eldar gaiety, a joyous laugh in her voice.
Security Guardsman Potts looked away quickly, feeling embarrassed. Belzevelle merely laughed happily.
"Good morning girls, you look so beautiful as always," Belzevelle warmly greeted the crowd of bedraggled wet naked miserable looking tickle slaves.
"Good morning Consort Belzevelle, Mistress," the tickle slaves politely returned the greeting uncertainly.
Belzevelle smiled dazzlingly and gracefully took her long rifle from her pretty shoulders in one fluid motion, holding it with lazy relaxed ease in her hands in the firing position, barrel deliberately aimed safely down at the floor to avoid it pointing at anyone.
Belzevelle gracefully peered over the side of the building in a lazy pan of her head from left to right, and from this extremely brief glance she seemed to take in the entire scene below.
"There is a genestealer squad in that window across the road," Belzevelle calmly said immediately.
"What?!" Security Guardsman Potts spluttered in shock, rushing to look.
Belzevelle took another extremely brief glance for no more than a second.
"I count at least ten, two of them are first generation genestealer hybrids and the rest are infected human carriers of the genestealer curse. One of the hybrids is watching the street and the other one is looking up at us on the roof." Belzevelle said seriously.
Security Guardsman Potts looked frantically where she seemed to be looking, but he couldn't see anything!
"I will take care of them," Belzevelle said cheerfully.
Belzevelle extremely elegantly draped her long rifle over the edge of the battlement, and sighted lazily down the scope through one lens of her pretty night vision goggles. With almost contemptuous grace she pressed her body against the shoulder stock.
(Barely audible), snap snap.
Belzevelle's shoulder quivered slightly as she fired two heavily silenced shots, not even the slightest muzzle flashes emerging from the barrel of the high tech eldar weapon.
"Both the hybrids are dead from brain hits, the rest of the squad fled back from the window," Belzevelle said cheerfully.
Security Guardsman Potts looked hard but still couldn't see any sign of what she was talking about.
"I will just saunter over and check the other side now," Belzevelle said happily, and gracefully waltzed off with swaying hips to the other side of the roof.
Security Guardsman Potts shook his head to return his focus away from the highly provocative dark eldar consort of Wendy Sevenson, and looked back down at the street.
The hormagaunts had still not returned in numbers yet, Security Guardsman Potts simply kept watching dutifully.
"I'm back," Belzevelle said a few minutes later.
Security Guardsman Potts looked up at her.
Belzevelle briefly glanced over the edge of the building.
"The genestealers haven't returned. Nothing but rippers and the odd hormagaunt down there," Belzevelle said calmly.
"Can we go inside for a while then?," a tickle slave asked hopefully.
"Not a good time to be away right now, the liberation army needs our help with this. In a few days time this entire city block around us will be completely liberated, but it will cost a lot of lives. Every tyranid we kill here with darts is one less for the troops on the ground to deal with," Belzevelle explained reassuringly.
The tickle slaves seemed to brighten up considerably at this news, even Security Guardsman Potts found these words deeply reassuring.
"In a few more hours you gorgeous girls will get to change over with a new shift of dart throwing lovelies. You will be nice and dry then, just be patient," Belzevelle reassured the tickle slaves charismatically.
The tickle slaves rallied immediately to the dark eldar's obvious charisma, and their glum self pity noticeably diminished. Security Guardsman Potts was amazed.
***...
The pile of punctured dead tyranid bodies on the east street next to the skyscraper was ridiculously large a few hours later, piled up to four meters tall in places.
The exact number of dead was anyone's guess, but it was clearly a very substantial number.
The rippers were endless, drawn from miles around by the smell of the giant piles of carrion, swarming all over the meat in a carpet to feed. The falling darts simply killed these rippers too, making the piles of dead even bigger.
"This is hopeless, they just keep coming!" One of the tickle slaves noted despondently.
"Don't despair exquisite plaything. We are doing a great job culling the swarm, that huge pile of dead have been removed forever from the war," Belzevelle reassured melodically.
"But they just keep breeding more of themselves,"
"Not true my plaything, the tyranids require food to breed more of themselves. They are starving, this huge pile of meat is a massive loss of irreplaceable biomass for them, we are wiping them out." Belzevelle reassured adamantly.
"It doesn't feel like we are making a difference..."
"You lovely ladies are saving thousands of lives, soldiers who would have died will live thanks to you. Be proud of your efforts this day," Belzevelle said wonderfully.
The tickle slaves were spread aimlessly around the east edge of the rooftop, wet and naked in the rain as before. Most were sitting down with their backs against boxes of darts, hugging their knees and shivering in the cold. A few were halfheartedly munching on the edible seaweed bait biscuits for something to eat, or drinking rain water to quench their thirst. All looked thoroughly miserable.
Belzevelle smiled warmly at the miserable young women, feeling slight sadistic pleasure from their obvious discomfort but not showing this on her carefully composed face.
Only the Security Guardsman held his eternal vigilance, watching over the edge of the building for tyranid activity.
Belzevelle was standing with her characteristic lazy elegance, one hip held provocatively out to one side, her eldar sniper rifle draped across her shoulders at ease.
Belzevelle glanced briefly over the edge of the building, her radically sharp eldar eyes taking in every tiny feature of the street below in extreme detail.
The hormagaunts were gone, either fled or dead, but the rippers never stopped coming. The piles of meat were steaming from the digestive juices of punctured ripper guts, but not as much as might be expected, the rain was extremely heavy, the deluge soaking the meat and diluting the acids with a flood of water.
Belzevelle returned her attention to the rooftop, admiring the erotic beauty of the huge crowd of wet naked tickle slaves.
Belzevelle herself was unbothered by the rain on her head. Her body glove covered her completely from the neck down, the high tech material keeping her body perfectly dry even in this rain. Her head alone was touched by the rain, but she had taken the liberty of oiling her hair and face with a fragrant oil that repelled the worst of the water, keeping her skin and hair surprisingly dry.
Belzevelle gazed in sadistic fascination at the shivering miserable naked tickle slaves, drinking in their discomfort with sick sexual relish. She was dry and comfortable while they were wet and shivering, it made Belzevelle's vaginal folds dampen with sexual excitement.
Belzevelle sauntered over to one of the hottest tickle slaves, an absurdly busty slender woman with long straight hair and an extremely pretty face. The slave girl was sitting miserably in a puddle against a line of heavy dart boxes, weakly hugging her knees for warmth.
The girl looked up curiously as Belzevelle crouched down in front of her, and without even asking, Belzevelle passionately kissed the surprised young woman.
The gorgeous tickle slave was clearly surprised by this, but offered no resistance, and after a moment she returned the kiss hungrily, moaning with arousal.
The kissing got rapidly heavier, Belzevelle could taste and smell every molecule of the girl with extreme eldar senses, savouring this intense human saliva.
The girl wrapped her arms around Belzevelle's neck, kissing her with desperate hunger, and Belzevelle's pleasure grew sharply.
Belzevelle's sharp ears listened for any hint of danger as she enjoyed the wonderful erotic kisses of this exquisitely beautiful tickle slave, at the slightest indication of threat she would part from the girl.
The girl was moaning hard now, and spreading her legs wide for Belzevelle, offering her body to be penetrated.
"Funny how you slaves never respond to me like that," Security Guardsman Potts grumbled softly from the edge of the roof.
"But I am a lesbian, I'm so sorry I rejected you Security Guardsman Potts Sir, but I am completely a lesbian, I can't help it, I'm not attracted to men," the slave girl broke the kiss to apologise sympathetically.
Belzevelle turned her gaze to see Security Guardsman Potts gazing with wretched jealousy at Belzevelle and the gorgeous slave girl. Belzevelle filled with amusement at this sight.
The tickle slave unentangled herself from Belzevelle guiltily, and got up to attempt to comfort the jealous man. Belzevelle flushed with irritation to have the plaything disengage in the middle of intimacy like that.
"I don't need your pity girl, you don't need to coddle me," Security Guardsman Potts immediately brushed off the slave girl's sympathy.
Belzevelle slid a few feet down the line of boxes, and started kissing a new slave girl.
The new slave girl was as utterly submissive and compliant as the last one, and gave herself to Belzevelle enthusiastically, moaning hard into the kisses.
Belzevelle made out with the girl for a while, but didn't have sex with her, Belzevelle was not about to remove her protective body glove in a potential war zone, she was merely enjoying the kissing to pass the time.
Belzevelle's sharp ears detected the distinctive faint sounds of many hormagaunt hooves far below in the street over the roar of the rain, she parted instantly from the heavy kissing with the gorgeous tickle slave and gracefully ran over to the edge to look down.
Hundreds of hormagaunts met her gaze, a few hundred meters up the northern end of the street. The hormagaunts looked cautious, but were all sniffing hungrily in the direction of the massive pile of carrion.
Belzevelle froze, these hormagaunts would get spooked very easily and flee at the slightest provocation. The rooftop group needed to do nothing for a while to lull the hormagaunts into feeling safe enough to approach.
"Easy, easy. Everyone stay very quiet, don't spook them," Belzevelle told her comrades.
The hormagaunts still didn't approach, those that had survived this long had learned from experience to shun this deadly place.
"I don't think they will take the bait, at least not before the shifts change over with the next batch of girls." Security Guardsman Potts opined.
Belzevelle gave a slight nod of agreement, it was less than an hour until the tickle slaves on the roof got to go back inside and be replaced by a new shift. The hormagaunts were extremely unlikely to enter the kill zone in this time.
"Does that mean we can go inside now?", a tickle slave asked hopefully.
The tickle slave's question was ignored.
Belzevelle watched a long time, but the hormagaunts kept their distance.
She was tempted to use her sniper rifle to pick them off, but she knew this would only make them run away even further.
Belzevelle instead looked down at the pile of bodies.
Many rippers had pupated on top of the pile of meat, and it was only a matter of time before these pupae hatched into adult hormagaunts.
Belzevelle tried to judge how much longer they had before the oldest surviving pupae hatched. Probably better kill them before too much longer.
Belzevelle scoped down her sniper rifle, setting the weapon to maximum silence. Extreme magnification greeted her infrared night vision goggled eye through the scope, showing thousands of fat pupae on top of the pile of carrion.
Belzevelle silently put a shot into the pupae one by one, aiming for where their growing brains should be.
Tiny holes appeared where the shots hit, almost completely silently.
Belzevelle checked the distant herd of hormagaunts up the street. They hadn't noticed the silenced sniper shots on the pupae.
Belzevelle far too soon emptied her entire ammunition crystal into the pupae, and lowered her weapon disappointedly. She hadn't thought to bring a second crystal with her, she would have to go back inside to reload.
"I am afraid that I must leave you for now, I must go inside to reload," Belzevelle informed her rain soaked comrades.
The tickle slaves murmured jealously, Security Guardsman Potts gave a nod of understanding.
Belzevelle hefted her sniper rifle back across her shoulders, and elegantly sauntered towards the door with provocative flicks of her hips.
The door was near the south edge of the roof, a safe distance away from the landing pad in the exact centre of the roof. The door was in the north side of a huge raised square slab of armoured material, containing a massive stairwell behind meter thick walls.
Cameras and scanners festooned the walls around the doorway, and some of these cameras panned to track Belzevelle as she sauntered towards the door.
Belzevelle gave a cheeky little wave to the cameras, her body language indicating that she wanted to enter. Moments later the massive ceramite door rumbled open for her.
Belzevelle sauntered lazily through the doorway, and elegantly descended down the stairwell beyond like a glamorous super model.
One floor down she came to a second armoured door even more formidable than the first and she swayed her body lazily as she waited for this door to open as well, gracefully taking off her infrared night vision goggles now that she was inside the dimly lit interior of the building where she didn't need them to see.
Belzevelle didn't have to wait long, and was soon sauntering past the doorway and through a heavily guarded security checkpoint.
Belzevelle met no challenge as she strolled through the skyscraper of Mistress Wendy. Belzevelle was Wendy's consort, none challenged her right to go anywhere she liked in this building.
Belzevelle passed through several more armoured doors and security checkpoints on this top floor below the roof. The entire floor was laid out as a twisting maze of switchback corridors, forcing any entering invaders through the maximum number of security checkpoints and armoured doorways. This building would be extremely difficult to invade from the roof, this entire floor dedicated to defence.
After passing through this entire switchback maze of corridors and checkpoints, Belzevelle finally came to the main building stairwell that accessed the other floors.
Belzevelle went down only one floor by this huge stairwell, exiting immediately to the noisy machinery filled second top floor, the highest floor the elevators reached, and lazily used the elevator to take herself the rest of the way down.
The large luxurious elevator car took her swiftly to the floor that was entirely occupied by Belzevelle and Mistress Wendy's massive bedroom, and Belzevelle strolled happily into the comforting familiarity of her bedroom.
The entire massive floor was one single room, with just some massive support pillars and the armoured outer walls of the building, the rest of the floor entirely open except for the various furniture.
To even describe the furniture layout in this ludicrously large room using words would take hours, it was too big, the furniture too varied. It was like all the furniture and contents of an entire extravagant house, (and ten bondage sex dungeons), had all been put into this one room. It had kitchen furniture, bathroom furniture, lounge room furniture, bondage dungeon furniture and every other type of furniture all in the one room.
Whatever a normal person would keep inside any part of their entire house, Wendy Sevenson kept in this one giant room. This one room was her entire home, this was the one floor of the building where the Slaanesh Champion actually lived, all of the rest of the giant skyscraper was dedicated to other purposes. This room alone was the actual "home".
Belzevelle had yet to explore everything in this room, she knew where all the furniture was of course, as well as all the items out in the open, but Belzevelle had not gone exploring through the contents of even half of the storage furniture in this room. There were just too many cupboards and dressers and cabinets and chests and boxes for Belzevelle to be bothered exploring, and Mistress Wendy would probably consider it rude of Belzevelle to go rifling through all her personal stuff anyway.
Belzevelle was content to know only what she needed to know of the home and it's contents, she was fairly confident that Mistress Wendy didn't have like an atomic bomb or something lying around in her own home, all these excessive personal belongings were not dangerous things, just household items and sex toys.
The room was all but deserted right now, usually in peace time it would have crowds of kinky maid slaves with feather dusters, cleaning and tidying the place in skanky maid costumes at this time of day, but with the war on, these slutty maids had been given other duties. The absence of the kinky maids showed, the room was getting rather dusty without them.
Present in the room however was Mistress Wendy's highly submissive husband Adolf Sevenson, sitting at a large wooden table reading a book, he was the only person in the entire room right now.
Adolf's whip marked pale body was currently naked but for a wedding ring on his finger and a black leather submissive collar around his neck. His short blonde hair was styled in a military crew cut, his handsome white face clean shaven, his entire naked body waxed completely hairless by Mistress Wendy.
He was an extremely muscular man, a natural mesomorph, and certain days each week he spent hours lifting weights in body building exercises, keeping his highly submissive body beautifully sculpted and muscular for the sexual pleasure of Mistress Wendy and the other girls.
Belzevelle admired the delicious muscular beauty of the handsome Adolf Sevenson as she walked in his general direction in the massive room, she could see the bulging abdominal muscles in his stomach, see his glorious pectoral muscles and giant biceps. He was such a beautiful man.
Adolf looked up from his book as Belzevelle sauntered provocatively towards him. His stunningly handsome face showed obvious signs of recent cosmetic surgery, skin flawlessly smooth and face perfectly symmetrical. Mistress Wendy was infamous for surgically altering the bodies of her lovers with cosmetic surgery, and as her husband poor Adolf had not been spared the cosmetic surgeons knife. Belzevelle thoroughly approved, the surgery looked really good.
"Mistress Wendy isn't here," Adolf informed Belzevelle in his ruggedly handsome working class Temperis Hive World accent, making her shudder with bliss at his delicious manly voice.
Belzevelle purred provocatively, and sauntered right up to his table.
Belzevelle playfully slid aside Adolf's book, (titled "The Encyclopaedia of Modern Necromundan Architecture"), and lay provocatively across the table in its place on her back, her gorgeous slender body draped invitingly. She gently stroked one of his cheeks with her hand provocatively, smiling naughtily up at him.
"I was reading that," Adolf told her affectionately, and leaned down to kiss her on the lips.
Belzevelle made excited noises, wiggling her reclining body provocatively, but Adolf broke the kiss far too soon and stood to retrieve his book which had fallen on the floor.
Belzevelle turned her head and admired Adolf's giant floppy penis.
"The penis enlargement surgery looks wonderful," Belzevelle purred, reaching out with her gloved hand and briefly holding it gently, giving it a soft squeeze.
Adolf gave Belzevelle another loving kiss, and shifted her slightly on the table so he could return his book to its place, sitting down to keep reading.
Belzevelle playfully flicked the book back on the floor, smiling provocatively.
Adolf looked at her with indulgent affectionate amusement.
Belzevelle traced a fingertip over Adolf's giant pectoral muscles, humming cutely.
"You are adorably irritating," Adolf told her fondly.
Belzevelle reached down to fondle his penis again.
Adolf tolerated this but his penis remained floppy.
"I am afraid you will have to wait until tonight, I am still in chastity," Adolf said apologetically, pointing to his wedding ring.
Belzevelle glanced at the wedding ring, it was a daemon ring engraved with the words, "The Chaste Submissive Husband, Adolf Sevenson".
The daemon ring had many powers, and one of those powers was to act like a supernatural chastity device, letting Adolf get an erection only when Mistress Wendy gave him permission. At the moment his huge penis was totally limp, and no amount of sexual provocation from Belzevelle would get it even slightly hard.
Belzevelle mischievously played with the penis anyway . Adolf ignored her and rested his retrieved open book up against her belly to resume reading.
Belzevelle flopped the giant penis from side to side adorably.
"Are you done?," Adolf asked her with obvious patience.
"Doesn't it feel good?"
"It doesn't feel bad exactly, it doesn't really feel like anything, I am totally limp."
"Aw, poor Adolf. Mistress Wendy won't let you out of chastity," Belzevelle teased adorably.
"She will tonight. I am going to fuck you so hard when Mistress Wendy lets me tonight," Adolf warned.
"I look forward to it," Belzevelle warmly replied, still playing with his limp penis.
Adolf leaned forward and lovingly kissed her on the lips again, and then turned his attention to the open book propped up against her tummy as she lazily continued playing with his penis.
"You like kissing me like that?," Belzevelle asked after a tiny amount of silence.
Adolf shrugged.
"I like it," Belzevelle continued.
"I know you like it, that's why I do it,"
"But don't you enjoy it too?"
"When I am in chastity, the kissing is 100 percent for your benefit not mine," Adolf informed her affectionately.
"You do it only for my pleasure?, why?"
"Because we are intimate, I like you, I fuck you every single day. I am very fond of you," Adolf said affectionately.
"You are?"
"Of *course* I am, you are one of my bedmates! I am fond of all of you girls, you, Octavia and Mistress Wendy, I really care about all you girls," Adolf implored her emphatically.
Belzevelle blinked at this, she had had no idea Adolf liked her this much.
There was a brief awkward silence after this tender admission. Belzevelle was still playing with his penis this entire time.
"What are you reading?," Belzevelle asked cutely.
"It's a book about architecture"
"Why are you reading a book about architecture?"
"Because I want to."
"Are you planning on becoming an architect?"
"Of course not."
"Then why read it?"
"Because it is interesting."
"It actually sounds really boring"
"You are entitled to your opinion Belzevelle"
Adolf turned a page.
Belzevelle got bored of playing with his penis, and instead cutely put her finger up his nose adorably.
"You know you are being annoying right now?"
"I know,"
"I don't put my finger up *your* nose"
Belzevelle merely hummed cutely, playing with his face.
"Adorably cute as this is, don't you have anything better to do right now?,"
"Actually I do, I am sniping tyranids on the roof and ran out of ammo. I came down here to reload and get ammo," Belzevelle informed him, still cutely putting a finger up his nose repeatedly.
"You could come up and join me, it could be a date?," Belzevelle offered suggestively.
"Mistress Wendy didn't give me permission to wear clothes today," Adolf said apologetically.
"Then go nude. All the tickle slaves are nude already, no one cares," Belzevelle encouraged.
Adolf looked dubious.
"It will help the war effort if we shoot tyranids together, I have a spare pair of goggles and a spare sniper rifle you can use," Belzevelle offered.
Adolf looked indecisive now.
"Come on Adolf, it will be fun. I want to talk to you anyway about something anyway, I need to get back up there and can only chat to you about it if you come."
"What's the weather like outside?," Adolf asked indecisively.
"It's fine," Belzevelle lied.
"Oh all right, it's only right that I help out with the fighting, you have convinced me, I will go." Adolf finally agreed.
Belzevelle clapped her hands cutely in delight, that had been so easy.
***...
"The weather is "fine" you say?," Adolf asked acidly as he stepped naked out onto the roof in the hard pelting rain.
"I may have fibbed slightly," Belzevelle admitted adorably.
Adolf grunted grumpily, and grimaced as he walked through the pelting rain, raindrops pounding off his completely naked body.
"This way Adolf, the east edge has the most action," Belzevelle directed him playfully, linking her arm with his.
Adolf hunched his body uncomfortably in the hard rain, and stoically let her lead him. Belzevelle made a point of playfully leading his bare feet through the middle of all the largest puddles she could find.
"You are doing that on purpose," Adolf accused.
"Of course," Belzevelle admitted adorably.
Adolf shook his head in amused irritation, and Belzevelle immediately led him through a few more puddles.
"You are lucky you are so damn adorable," Adolf told her.
Belzevelle hummed happily and kissed him on the cheek.
The pair of bedmates were walking past shivering huddles of miserable wet naked tickle slaves between lines of metal boxes now, the girls huddled together for warmth as the roaring deluge pounded off their heads.
The girls looked up curiously as the pair walked, big ugly night vision goggles strapped to their heads, and silently watched the pair of them walk past.
"They look rather glum," Adolf noted quietly.
Belzevelle shrugged.
Belzevelle and Adolf moved between more lines of boxes and huddles of girls, and made straight for the group supervisor, Security Guardsman Potts.
The bedraggled black armoured security guardsman turned at the sound of their feet sloshing through puddles, looking stoically at the pair for a moment and then saluting.
"Consorts," Security Guardsman Potts addressed the pair respectfully, he seemed tired.
Adolf immediately got shy and tried to cover his private parts with his hand. Adolf had been doing this every time they met a man at every single security checkpoint on the way up here. He didn't cover himself like this around women, but he seemed shy around fellow men.
"I ain't looking," Security Guardsman Potts reassured Adolf.
Adolf reluctantly stopped covering his penis, and Security Guardsman Potts glanced down despite his earlier promise, and mouthed the word "damn" at the size of Adolf's penis. Adolf got embarrassed and covered himself again.
Belzevelle giggled melodically.
"We, we came up here to shoot tyranids. What is the situation up here?," Adolf broke the awkward moment.
Security Guardsman Potts seemed to consider for a moment.
"Not much to report, Consort Adolf Sir, the hormagaunts are still spooked and staying away from the building, we are keeping quiet in the hope they will return. The slave girls will be changing over their shift in a few minutes, me too actually, the new shift will be taking over," Security Guardsman Potts said in an obviously weary voice.
"O...K..." Adolf replied, clearly not finding this explanation very informative.
"Never mind mister grumpy here, he has been out in the rain too long. I will show you what to do," Belzevelle told Adolf gaily.
Belzevelle used her linked arm with Adolf to lead Adolf away from the rather stoic security guardsman, and Adolf reluctantly allowed himself to be led by her arm. She took Adolf some distance along the east edge of the rooftop, not quite to the corner but close.
The rain was pounding down in thick curtains, the roar and tempest giving the pair of consorts some measure of privacy.
"This weather is horrible!" Adolf said over the crash of the rain.
Belzevelle giggled and kissed him on the lips.
Adolf broke from the kiss and gazed down over the edge of the building through the crashing rain, his borrowed eldar infrared night vision goggles dripping in the rain.
"These goggles are amazing! I can see so far! Pity about the rain or I could see for miles I think," Adolf yelled over the rain.
"By the Emperor this rain! Is this sort of weather normal?," Adolf added as the rain got even heavier.
"I wouldn't know," Belzevelle laughed and fondled his penis inappropriately.
Adolf turned his body to rescue his penis from her molestation, his shoulders hunched as much as possible as the roaring deluge crashed off his naked skin. His wet skin was covered in goosebumps now.
Belzevelle spread her arms gloriously to the sky, completely unbothered by the rain, and laughed happily.
Adolf noticed this and seemed ashamed to be outdone by a woman, he deliberately squared his shoulders and stood upright in the rain, trying his best to be strong.
Belzevelle patted him on the back approvingly, and gracefully laid her sniper rifle and numerous ammunition crystals on the floor next to the battlement wall.
"What are you doing?, Aren't we going to shoot?," Adolf asked in confusion.
"Not yet, it's not the right time. The hormagaunts are still spooked. If we shoot now they will run away, we need to lull them into a false sense of reassurance," Belzevelle told him fondly.
"Oh, alright then," Adolf said disappointedly and laid down his own borrowed rifle next to Belzevelle's.
Belzevelle immediately started kissing him in the rain, running her gloved hands all over his gloriously muscular body.
Adolf returned all the kisses like a gentleman, but clearly wasn't into it. Belzevelle rubbed her skintight body glove covered front against him anyway.
Adolf didn't spurn her, which surprised Belzevelle, he was holding her tightly against his body. Belzevelle gave him a questioning look.
"It is bloody cold in this rain and you are lovely and warm," Adolf explained, hugging her tightly.
Belzevelle smiled and kept kissing him.
Adolf relocated to sit in the slight shelter between two lines of nearby boxes, and he pulled Belzevelle down to cuddle her on his lap.
Belzevelle relaxed her back against his chest in this glorious cuddle, and naughtily attempted to guide his hands between her legs. Adolf resisted this and simply cuddled his yummy muscular arms around her stomach.
"You are so warm," Adolf murmured in contentment.
Belzevelle relaxed completely, this was so romantic.
For a while they just cuddled in the heavy rain, listening to the roaring crash of the deluge. Belzevelle was so gloriously comfortable that she almost fell asleep.
"So what did you want to talk about?," Adolf asked after a while.
"I had a, a dream last night." Belzevelle began hesitantly.
"A dream?," Adolf asked.
"Yes, a bad dream, a dream that made me question so many things," Belzevelle began.
Belzevelle felt so safe and secure in this wonderful romantic cuddle. With only some slight encouragement from Adolf, Belzevelle found herself recounting the entire story from the dream. Indeed she found herself telling far more than she safely should, she didn't spare a single detail, trusting Adolf not to get her into trouble with Mistress Wendy.
She finished by telling him that she had agreed to use her position as Consort to help prevent eldar souls from falling into the grip of Slaanesh, told Adolf that the Asuryani warlocks had given Belzevelle a huge list of small things she could do, many many paths to choose from that would help her people. Even something as simple as a well placed word to Mistress Wendy in bed at just the right moment could save eldar souls, Belzevelle had unrivalled access to subtly influence Mistress Wendy in so many small ways.
Adolf was quiet for a while when she finished her long tale, but he didn't seem to be angry or hostile. He just kept holding her lovingly like a treasured lover, no change in his emotion towards her.
"I see..." Adolf said finally.
"I am terrified what Mistress Wendy will think," Belzevelle admitted.
"Just don't tell her," Adolf suggested immediately.
Belzevelle was astonished.
"But I HAVE to tell Mistress Wendy!"
"Why?,"
"What do you mean "why"?!"
"Why?," Adolf repeated.
Belzevelle was staggered, this question made no sense.
"Sometimes doing the right thing means keeping secrets, even from loved ones." Adolf explained kindly.
"But I am loyal to Mistress Wendy," Belzevelle began.
"And so you should be and so am I, but that doesn't mean I explain 100 percent of my actions to her. It is not betraying Mistress Wendy to use your position as Consort in very small ways to help some of your own people from a horrific fate," Adolf interrupted her.
"But what would Mistress Wendy think if she ever found out?," Belzevelle fretted.
Adolf paused at this.
"I HAVE to tell her, that way it is out in the open. I will tell her everything, that way it is not done behind her back. I can then openly help my fellow eldar in front of Mistress Wendy," Belzevelle said with resolve.
"But won't she try to stop you if you tell her?," Adolf asked seriously.
"I'm not sure what she will do, but it is a safe path. So far I have done nothing but agreed in a dream to help my people, I have shot a few tyranids to help minimise the deaths of my kabal members, and I have told you about it. I have done no action that may cost me dearly, nothing that Mistress Wendy would cast me out for," Belzevelle reasoned logically.
Adolf thought about this for a moment.
"I of course will support you if you think honesty is the best policy, but think carefully about it first. I would recommend that you keep this to yourself until you are sure your mind is made up," Adolf hesitantly advised her.
"Can I just walk away, choose to do nothing and just enjoy my life like nothing happened?," Belzevelle mused.
"No Belzevelle, I cannot in good conscience let you do nothing after what you have told me. Your people are dying, *worse* than dying, it is absolutely horrific. You *have* to help, not betray Mistress Wendy but at least help in some small ways," Adolf warned her.
"You won't *let* me do nothing?," Belzevelle hissed with a slight hint of deadly warning in her voice.
Adolf sighed.
"You can choose to either tell Mistress Wendy or don't tell her, but you can't just simply turn your back on your entire people. Those warlocks gave you many options to choose from, so many small things you could be doing that will make a huge difference to people's lives." Adolf pressed.
Belzevelle paused at this.
"I will help you, you don't have to do this alone." Adolf promised her.
"My mind is made up to tell Mistress Wendy, no secrets. That way is best," Belzevelle reiterated with resolve.
"Ok then, if you insist. No secrets, we tell Mistress Wendy tonight." Adolf agreed.
""We"?",
"Yes, "We", I am with you in this," Adolf insisted firmly.
Belzevelle nodded softly.
"Stupid warlocks, ruining everything," Belzevelle grumbled cutely.
Adolf laughed and hugged her tighter in the pelting rain.
"Well... We had better get started shooting these tyranids now," Belzevelle mused, gracefully rising from his warm lap.
Adolf reluctantly nodded, and got to his feet.
"Mistress Wendy really is going to tan our hides for this," Belzevelle mused as an afterthought.
***...
