Chapter 8 - Enemy of the state

The air smelled so familiar, the dry desert breeze mixed with something burning. There was always something burring in Syria. I scratched my now sizeable beard, feeling the bugs nesting inside. My whole body itched. One, two, three bullets and three quick shoots, three dead insurgents about to blow up some shit again died.

The real-life was so confusing, but this was simple; just watching, waiting, receiving orders, seeing the bastards’ heads blow off like water-filled balloons. I didn’t like to think anymore. Whenever I thought of the life I’ve had, or rather could have had, I’d get a panic attack, my hand would shake. My heart was broken, my soul crushed. I loved two times, my woman and child, and it was too much. It was better to just stay dead inside and numb.

“We have a special assignment for you. There is someone extremely dangerous we need you to take out”. I nodded, listening to the general explaining the dangers and importance of killing one man. I spaced out for a few seconds. There is always just that one man to kill. There is always a mission that might cost you your life. He kept on droning before he said his name “Al-Mukhtar”.

I knew that name. He was an upstart warlord or something, back in the days of Afghanistan. What made him different was he didn’t promote conflict but unity amongst all people, tribes and sects under one god. I couldn’t see what was wrong with that, but apparently, someone could. What did I care? I just kill people, follow the orders. Thinking gave me a headache as of late.

While they hunted for mysterious Al-Mukhtar, sending after him their best men, I was sent to a number of missions, helping untangle a Gordian knot known as the “conflict in Syria”. This place was as bad as they come. Too many parties had their fingers inside. I had no clue who was a friend and who was a foe. Our patrols got regularly blasted by people we wouldn’t even suspect. It just wasn’t safe to go out of the base anymore.

This was when we made a breakthrough. One of our ranking officers who had an honorary title of a middle-east advisor, a man whom locals called Saleh, sent us a sort of a guide, a local man who fought for our interests named Saladin. He knew the people, the customs, the layout of the land better than anyone else we had on hand. At first, we were apprehensive, but quickly he earned everyone’s trust. Saladin pulled us out of many horrific situations where all of us would end up killed. He was a strong, tall, extremely well-built man with green-grey eyes and an intense look in his eyes. He was a devout Muslim, praying five times a day, even during a gunfight. Saladin had this aura about him, a sense of power and command. Wherever we went, whichever village we visited, he would be welcomed like a brother. I never saw a more honourable and faithful guy than him, and that’s not just because he saved my life.

Some time ago, we drove in a four-car convoy, driving over raw land on a recon mission to a friendly village when all our cars got taken out. The first two cars blew up ten feet in the air, being shot directly with a rocket-propelled grenade. Mine and the last car got hit from the side as the drivers swerved at the last second. With the explosion minimized, the cars just flipped, ending on the roof.

Saladin pulled me out of the burning wreckage, helping shift the bent burning metal trapping my leg while I peppered the land with bullets with my AR15 rifle. The rest of the guys in my car were dead. The last car in the convoy exploded, only one soldier managed to get out. We never saw the assailants. They just shot us and ran away. While I lay on my back, Saladin made it back into the wreckage, pulling undamaged spare canisters of water before dragging the other soldier and me close to the other side of the car into the shade.

"We were sitting ducks there, no guns, no ammo, no comms equipment with just a little drinking water, sitting in the middle of barren land, the rocky desert". None of the worry that Jim, the other soldier, shared reflected on Saladin. He seemed untouched by our predicament. The desert land didn’t scare him at all. It was as if all this was his homeland, hostile only to uninvited guests. He used some water to wash his hands and face, unrolling a small cloth from his back, then kneeled deep in prayer as the sun went down.

He helped us up and set a direction. I saw it on my compass; we were going east. Not where we initially headed; that place was too far to reach on foot. Luckily we only had scrapes and bruises, no major injuries to report. Unburdened by heavy sacks and weapons, we made quick progress on foot.

East and always east, we walked throughout the night. I didn't even notice. My mind switched off, returning home to Montana, to my lovely Sally and my son, to my other beautiful girls and unborn children. Before dawn, Saladin found us a large rock. At its feet, he dug a big hole. We got in it, burying ourselves with a thick layer of rock and sand. The sun came and went. We stayed buried like that the whole day, drinking a little, trying to get some sleep. There was nothing to do but think, something that hurt me more than an open wound. After the sunset, Saladin led us out, still going east. We spent another day buried, miles away, our water running low. The following night we saw a fire in the distance. We carefully approached it covered with the night.

Sneaking up to the little dip in the land, we watched from above the events unfolding below us. It appeared to be a small Beduin settlement. I didn’t even know that they existed anymore. I saw a heap of some thirty dead bodies piled up on one side, large fire lighting up a wide area. A thick wooden pole was stuck in the ground with a very old naked man tied up. He was clearly tortured, and by the severity of his wounds, I was surprised he was still alive.

I heard a female scream, followed by the laughter of men and cries of a child. “Fuck!” I said quietly, knowing exactly what was going on. The images of Starla and Moni being raped in the cabin, Sally hanging naked in the basement, running through my mind. I felt insane anger rise inside me, overwhelming my rational mind. We had no weapons apart from knives. If I had my sniper, I’d kill them all. I had no ideas how many guys were in a tent, but there were two armed guards standing outside. The child’s crying got louder, I thought of little Carter, my son, and something just snapped inside of me. If I was to die, it would be today, defending a memory of something I hold dearest to my heart. Jim and Saladin saw my face. They saw I was past caring whether I live or die. They knew what I was going to do. There was no reasoning with me. I threw a rock towards the tent, the two guards turned around. With a knife in each hand, I stood up and ran down. The closer guard turned towards me, but he collided with my flying knife. The other guy collided with me, turning when he heard the noise of his dying friend. The impact of the knife slicing at his neck was so vicious it tore his head off, rolling it on the ground. Six guys awaited in a tent. One held a baby by his leg, laughing and threatening to shoot him with his gun as it cried. One man was raping a woman, held by two guys, while two more stood there, laughing at all that.

The laughing guys standing were the first ones to die as I ripped into them with all of my force, painting the sides of a tent wall with a spray of their blood. I never felt this kind of anger release in me in such a primal, violent attack. It was as if somehow I summoned Freki and Geri, becoming a wolf-beast myself. No wonder they saw me as a pack leader; I was more vicious than them. I threw my knife at the man raping the woman, so hard that the blade went through his head. As he fell, I took the hand holding the baby, jerked it so hard that the man fell on the ground. I stomped with all my force on his face, leaving squashed remains of his blood and brains on the ground.

The two guys holding the woman let her go, reaching for their guns. The only thing I could think of was the baby, imagining it was little Carter, my son. I grabbed the little boy in my arms, turning my back to the two men, hearing gunshots, feeling the bullets tear into my back. The first salvo impact dropped me to my knees, the second laid me on the ground. I heard more shots and loud screaming, but the world around me spun, and all went dark.

I opened my eyes, feeling the pain; “hold him tight”, Saladin said, Jim, pressing on my leg with all his force, steadying me so Salading could dig out the bullets with his knife. I bit on a thick rope, feeling incredible pain. Not the worst I’ve ever experienced, but it was somewhere right there. Three more bullets were removed. Jim washed out my wounds with fresh water before Saladin pressed a red-hot knife against each, instantly cauterizing them. I passed out after the last one.

I saw the old man that I saw tortured on a pole kneeling next to me, holding my head as I woke up. His deep green defiant eyes sparkled as our glances met; he was dying fast. I could see that it was the sheer force of his will that kept him still alive. I practised Arabic with Saladin for months, he was happy to be my teacher, but the man spoke some other dialect, which I later learned was an ancient tongue. The old man said something I didn’t understand, I looked at Saladin, and he translated, showing his greatest respect to the old man.

“The child’s mother is dead. The responsibility falls to his saviour. Life for life, honour for honour, blood for blood”. The old man tore off a necklace, forcing it into my hand, looking directly into Saladin’s eyes and said, “this man is my brother. His blood is my blood”. The old man waited till Saladin nodded, saying "easht", then closed his emerald eyes and died.

The days passed, and I got better. We had plenty of food and water, and Saladin dressed my wounds with some herbs, making a foul-tasting tea to drink. A little boy peacefully slept in my arms. Saladin watched me with added respect. There was some sort of fervour in his eyes. He told me the kid’s name was Salah, so I called him Sal. A week passed, then another. Luckily we had enough baby food on our hands. We had loads of guns and ammo but no radios or any kind of transport device. There was an old deep well in the place that still had water so we could survive there for a while. I'd often wake up in a panic, dreaming of Sally, Moni and Starla, a little Carter, imagining my kids. I worried about them prayed for their safety, wishing we were still together surrounded by the sound of rustling grass. When Sally got taken, something broke inside me. I could barely keep myself sane as I was, but at that terrible moment when I walked into the house, my mind twisted, and something died inside me. In the third week, I heard Jim shouting. Saladin stood on a hill with a red cloth waving in his hand. A dozen of what looked like bedouin men riding on camels slowly approached, greeting him. They brought camels to the water and sat in a circle. They were sparsely armed, barely presented a threat at all. Seeing their faces, however, sent shivers down my spine. Those men were dangerous, truly dangerous like no men I’ve seen before. They had the same defiant spark in their eyes as the old man that died.

They spoke old Arabic amongst each other, occasionally throwing me a glance. Putting some meat on the fire, they waved me over, making enough space for me in the circle. “These are the sons of the old man”, explained Saladin. "I told them what happened here. They said that you have become their brother because of what their father said and what I did for the child". One of them pointed to me that I must wear the necklace always, for the rest of my life, because it represents their family and one life.

I offered to give them their baby nephew so they can take care of him and take him to his people. They all looked shocked, lifting their hands, waving in refusal, saying exactly what the old man said; “responsibility falls to his saviour”. It was my responsibility to take the child and bring it back to his home.

Three of the desert men stayed, giving us three camels, seeing us off as we rode away. I turned back to look at them, but they were already gone. Something told me they would be just fine.

For three nights, we travelled, resting during the day. The men spoke very little, not just to me but to each other as well. I’ve never seen such hard dedication and discipline, such fearless assuredness of what they did. The desert bothered them very little. They were the desert people; they belonged there. It was their home. Watching them, I knew that this place, Syria was a special land with a big secret. The wars will come and go but will never be won by any of the invading forces. The people who lived in big cities ran scared from bombs and stuff, but those were not the desert people. They came and went as they pleased; it was all their land.

I noticed a cloud of dust in the distance, so we stopped and waited for three large SUVs to arrive. The three of us sat with the baby in a middle car, and they drove away. I watched in the distance the men on the camels turning around, following their own trail back.

A huge ovation followed the end of the speech. The massive conference room was full of people, mostly women and a bunch of cameras recording the event. The host thanked now very pregnant Sally for her passionate talk, reminding everyone that there will be a signing of her latest book named “a rapist and a hero” right after.

The people queued up, buying the book, getting it signed. When that ended, the journalists asked if they could ask her some questions, Sally agreed with a big smile on her face. “What would you say is the main message of your book?”

“In one word? Tolerance”

“Tolerance? Can you please elaborate?”

“Before I met Carter, I was very much a one-dimensional person. I had strongly ingrained beliefs, which I wasn’t shy to force onto others. When I got kidnapped, it was those beliefs that scared me the most. My captor and father of my children taught me without using a single word how to appreciate the little things, to stop seeing other people through a prism of my prejudice and use my own brain and experiences to make my mind about the others.”

“What were your main prejudices.”

“I had a bad experience with men before Carter”, Sally giggled. “In fact, my experience with carter started as the worst possible scenario. I was kidnapped. There are some terrible men out there, some real outright monsters, truly evil men. The worst prejudice I had was to think that all man are like that or can become like that. I was terribly wrong.”

“But carter did turn out to be exactly like that.”

“Well, yes and no. He did a terrible thing for a terrible reason. Putting that aside, he taught me what a real man can be and how much we, the women, need them. I talk about equality, of course. We, the feminists, use the word equality sometimes one-sidedly. The time with Carter made me realize that the only way equality will work is when we can have that through our differences, through our diversity. We, women, need men for a million and one reasons we can’t even think about, and men need us equally as much. We are not the same, and that is a good thing. We are wonderfully different and diverse but equal in the meaning and value of what we bring to the relationship and each other. Only then, when the two sides come together, one and one is no longer just two but more than the sum of its parts. Carter made me into a woman, he made me grow, and blossom and I made him into a man. He risked his life, sacrificed everything so his children and I could live safe. We made each other equally, as diverse and different we are. We only managed to do that by leaving our prejudice, nay, everything out where we lived alone, surrounded by tall grass. Just a man and a woman.”

The journalists actually clapped to that monologue, asking a bunch of quick questions. Almost an hour later, Sally was shown out with great thanks for participating in the conference. Moni picked her up with her car, driving her to a fancy restaurant for a dinner they planned with the rest of the feminists. Starla and Karen, the girl she beat up, clapped for Sally, the guest of honour, together with the rest of the people as she got in.

There were over five hundred guests in a massive dining hall. Two hundred and eleven of them were human trafficking survivors of the drug cartel that Carter single-handedly shut down. Regardless of his problems and failures, every single one of those women owed her life to Carter. They all gathered there in Los Angeles to celebrate and commemorate that. A lot of high profile celebrities and various dignitaries, high-ranking members of the feminist movement across the world and of course, a small group of select journalists were there, raising their glasses to celebrate the life and future of those women.

The victims of the first batch of women Carter liberated sat down and decided together that the money they stole should be split with all victims equally, not just them. As the news started to roll in and new victims were found, including the little boys in the church, the girls calculated and recalculated. In the end, each person got a few million dollars in cash, distributed secretly or through a charity foundation Sally set up. Even Moni and Starla got their cut. They weren’t taken away but were victims just as much. There was so much money in that truck to give everyone a new start.

After the dinner, everyone mingled, getting to know each other. A lot of celebrities coming up to Sally, admiring hers and Starla’s pregnant bellies. Moni gave birth to two perfect, identical twin girls a couple of months back and was working out like a woman possessed to get her body back into shape.

Sally and her two lovers became role models of success to many young people. The once-radical feminist group Sally belonged to toned down and found its voice, learning from stories and life of the three girls. Even Karen and Starla made up and became friends. They both apologized to each other and found a new way forward. In just a few short months, the feminists found their new, tolerant, positive voice. Men aren’t an enemy; they are friends. Sure, some of them were outright misogynist assholes, some women too, equally misandrist cunts, but that applied to a small minority, the exception.

Women had to help men understand the new era, and men had to help women understand that patriarchy isn’t all that bad if that’s how both of them choose to live. It wasn’t either-or but a mix that worked for that specific couple. If it floats your boat and you are happy with each other, then do your thing. Respect the women, respect each other and be tolerant of their views. Don’t force people to believe what you sell them. Inform them but afford them the freedom to make up their own mind.

This new tolerant message found immediate, wide acceptance, attracting new members and sponsors. Suddenly people started paying attention. While once the girls did talks in small venues, now they did them in large halls. Everyone wanted to hear the progressive message, and girls weren’t hesitant to bring their boyfriends to that. Some guys loved it and wanted to help because, let's face it, we only have each other. We may say bad things sometimes and end up in a fight, but we love each other, and it hurts one to hurt another. Not all men are assholes and women bitches. Some are but far and few in between. We are just people who feel cry and bleed, the opposite side of the same coin.

The three women danced and kissed, having a good time celebrating life. The party went on for hours, till very late at night. Sally, Moni and Starla sat in their cars and drove to the beach, where they sat on the sand watching the stars, listening to waves, feeling the air. Life was good, filled with greatness, just seize each moment and make it count.

The sound of cars came behind them, and the girls stripped down, joining a small group out of the thousands, rose their hands, waiting for the light. “Blessed is the gift of light. Blessed is the gift of life. Blessed is the gift of love. Blessed is the child inside them, a new life, a new love, a new light to speak the words, Blessed is the Origin”.

“Why do you cry?” asked the little girl. “Because I am happy, Eve”. Dean sat on the wooden log, watching the thousands of women welcome the sun. Kitty and her partner Joy, the cat, went for a quick swim, leaving their daughter behind. “I finally understand”, Dean said, holding a little girl’s warm hand. Eve smiled at him with those big blue eyes and said, “Good! Blessed is the gift of knowledge”. Dean looked around, seeing the thousands swim and rejoice. He took a deep breath and responded, “yes, blessed is the gift of Origin”.

We arrived in a small village with no idea where or how far. It could have as well been on the moon. A small group of armed men surrounded us, but they weren’t aggressive, just watching whom the cars brought. An elderly man with piercing eyes walked to us with a slow step. Everyone gave him space; he commanded enormous respect. “You are a brother of Qadir? Protector of Salah?” the man asked, speaking English. I didn’t know how to answer but seeing Saladin nod, I said “yes”. The old man smiled, taking me by the wrist, leading me towards the centre. “We prepared a feast in honour of your victory, brother of Qadir”.

“Thank you, sir; we are all very hungry, but please call me Carter. My name is Carter.”

“Fine!” The man stopped and turned to the other, speaking loudly in Arabic. “From now on, you will be known as Carter, the brother of Qadir, protector of Salah”. The villagers repeated the name, then the man continued to walk.

The old man took me to one tent where three women surrounded me with tears in their eyes, thanking me for saving the child. They took little Sal from me, checked him and fed him. A huge weight dropping from my shoulders. I felt a pang of heartache, handing Sal over, looking into his eyes, watching him smile. I had a son too, a beautiful boy that I loved more than life itself. I wished I could hold him again, tell him how much I loved him, hold him in my arms again. That night, after evening prayers, we sat on little carpets in a large circle with the rest of the villagers, eating food served by women wearing niqabs. Those were simple people radiating vitality and strength. They didn’t look well-fed, nor did they look hungry. The people were sturdy, used to hardships; they were the desert people. Their system of value seemed to be completely detached from what I would consider as wealth; it was an honour that they valued the most. That was the currency of their society. It made it so clear to me why ultimately we will lose; why all the foreigners invading their country will. We had nothing of value to offer to them. Perhaps in the cities and big places, yes, but there was nothing they wanted from us here in the desert. The people lived there for centuries, and I suspect they’ll still do that long after we are gone.

We stayed with the people for a few days as their guests, then after saying goodbye, thanking them for their hospitality, the car took us on a long journey over raw terrain. It took us a whole day before we arrived at a different settlement, one that was much larger and friendly to the Americans. They had communications equipment there. We called in for help, and after a few hours, a helicopter landed to pick us up.

After debriefing and a few days later, I found myself lying on the roof again, following orders, killing random men, protecting the ground team from threats above. Saladin was my spotter. He rarely missed something with his curious eyes. My heart was breaking thinking of the life I used to have and the women I loved. I imagined when this was all over, I’ll try to find that little village in the middle of the desert, settle down with simple people and never touch a gun again. I hated the murder, blood and the war. I hated myself and the role I played in it. The general promised me this was the one last tour, my mission simple to take out Al-Mukhtar, then they’ll bring me back. I realized in that village, there was no going back from this country. I felt it in my bones that one way or another, this place was going to take my life.

To pass the time, I spoke with Saladin. He was a vast source of knowledge. Ever since I saved that child, his attitude towards me changed. He became my teacher, my older brother. Having nothing else to do, he taught me Arabic and told me stories of his people, of ancient great warriors and poets, of their rich cultural heritage but mostly about family, honour and respect. I listened and learned, my mind sometimes drifting to thoughts of how once I had a family and it was taken away.

After finishing her talking tour Sally and the girls flew back to LA. It was getting hard for her and Starla to travel. Their pregnant bellies weighing heavy on them. The driver waited with Sally’s name outside of the secure area and drove them to a fancy hotel. Tomorrow was going to be a very special day. The three girls decided to get married. Sally and Moni were already promised and wanted to move ahead, but they both loved Starla as much as each other. Neither wanted to get married, leaving Starla out.

Karen, who used to be Starla’s nemesis, turned out to be a good friend. Still feeling embarrassed from trying to throw Starla in prison, she begged for an opportunity to make it up somehow. She volunteered to plan a fantastic wedding, doing a great job at that. The girls teased her that she missed her profession. Karen should have been an events planner rather than a public speaker. Laughingly she agreed with them.

The wedding was going to take place at the beach. With Dean’s help, she cordoned off a portion of the beach. Extra police officers have been allocated to keep the uninvited people out. A top wedding catering company was brought in to set it up, so it looks beautiful and memorable.

As they got home, the girls just dropped on the bed, exhausted from the trip. Neither had any will to talk to their parents, who have all been brought to the hotel. The three sets of parents knew each other from the time Moni and Starla were kidnapped. Starla’s parents never had a great relationship, but when she was taken, they completely fell apart. They loved her so much, and without her, they lost the whole purpose of their existence. The misery and pain they felt brought the estranged husband and wife together, and in a great turn of the events, the couple found love for each other out of all that pain. Surprising to both, Starla’s mom fell pregnant, and they recently had a perfect little baby boy named Jonas.

It was a great miracle for all three families to find their daughters alive and healthy. They were so excited about their little babies and expecting more. The holy wrath Starla feared when her parents find out about her lesbian predilections didn’t materialize. The parents found out about her stripping job during the investigation. The police found her journal and details of sexual abuse by the sheriff. Learning about that, Starla’s dad took his gun and drove to the sheriff’s office, where he shoved the barrel into his mouth. It was Dean who managed to convince him to not shoot him. The sheriff pleaded guilty and was sent to prison. Dean made a call to his psychiatrist friend who worked part-time at a maximum-security psychiatric institution for criminally insane, telling him what happened. Cyrus had many connections in prisons; they send the crazies to him. Starla’s dad got his satisfaction when he learned that a violent psychopath neutered the sheriff and sliced him up all over his body with a razor blade. Sheriff survived, the psychopath got shipped to the mental institution. When Starla’s parents found out that she was getting married to two girls, they just laughed and congratulated her. After all the drama and pain, learning that your daughter is bisexual was as shocking as learning that you sat on a toilet without realizing that the paper run out.

The girls rested for a bit before getting up to take a shower. They slowly stripped, kissing each other, exploring their bodies. Mony caressed Sally’s and Starla’s big bellies, feeling a little sad and empty after giving birth to the twins. She loved being pregnant and wished she could be like her two lovers again. The two girls played with Moni’s tits. They were large and heavy, bursting with milk. The twin girls were two hungry little monsters but not as hungry as Moni’s best friends.

Impatient and horny like a devil, Starla pulled the two girls into the bathroom where they stood under the shower, letting hot water spray and soften their skin. Sally pushed Moni’s back against a glass wall, kissing her neck, massaging her breast. Starla joined them, entwining her tongue with Moni’s, gently rubbing her clit in the process.

It didn’t take long for the girls to start panting. Moni was turned on beyond belief. She knew what was coming and couldn’t wait for it. Her lovers gently kissed her downwards, finally closing their lips around her nipples. Moni screamed in her first orgasm as the girls chewed roughly on her nipples, sucking out and drinking fresh milk.

Starla and Sally would suck out a mouthful, then kiss, giving each other the taste, finally kissing Moni, and sharing some of her own sweet milk with her. Moni was always turned on by pain. The rough chewing and pulling on her nipples, combined with pinching on her clit kept sending her from orgasm to orgasm. Once her milk starter to flow, it would just keep flowing. The girls stopped sucking, but Moni’s tits would still dribble milk. It slowly ran down her body, the two girls sensually licking it away, causing Moni to shiver in sexual arousal.

Starla went down on Moni, sucking her clit, biting it gently to add some pain that Moni loved so much. Moni screamed like she was dying, feeling another orgasm kick-off. That didn’t discourage Sally from squeezing and sucking on her sensitive breast.

The girls dried quickly and run up to bed. Starla lay on her back, under Moni, who stood above her on all fours, her large milk-filled breast dangling above Starla’s lips like udders. Without any hesitation, lust in her eyes. Starla massaged Moni’s breast, sucking on her nipples. One after another, she milked the young mother. Sally got behind Moni, rubbing her clit with one hand while pushing fingers one after another into Moni’s sopping wet pussy.

One, two, three, soon the whole Sally’s hand was inside Moni. Slowly at first, then increasing tempo, she fisted Moni hard while she screamed and panted. Moni’s usually super tight pussy was stretched open by Carter’s huge cock. She loved his cock the most of all the three girls. She loved its size and girth and physical, brutal fucking she would receive every time Carter would fuck her. Moni always begged for more, deeper, faster, stronger, rougher, and carter would readily oblige.

All the girls knew they’d never find a better lover than him, certainly not a more dedicated one. Ever since Moni gave birth, she wanted to fuck like crazy, but nothing would really scratch that deep itch. It was only the brutal, almost elbow deep punch-fisting that could give Moni the satisfaction she craved. She screamed, pleaded, begged and sobbed as squishy slapping sounds of fist punching her pussy would turn all her pleasure buttons up.

After about a dozen of small orgasms, Mony started to shudder and pant fast. She grabbed Starla’s hand and screamed so loud she could be heard to the end of the hotel corridor some fifty yards away. Her pussy squeezed around Sally’s elbow so hard it felt like a vice. All Moni’s muscles tensed and trembled. A supreme explosion of intense, powerful orgasm took her, just like what carter got her to get used to. He’d never stop fucking the girls until they came like that. All their little orgasms, pleading and begging, he’d dismiss with a slap. He fucked his women. They were his; he knew exactly how he wanted them to cum. None of those ten-minute half-measures, he’d fuck them for as long as they needed before their bodies gave him an acceptable orgasm.

It was that more than anything that destroyed the girls. Carter got them used to supreme pleasure and fantastic sex. Whatever the man was or wasn’t whatever the people thought, to those girls, Carter was their man. He took them, he fucked them, he bred them, he loved them, and he sacrificed his life and freedom for them. Whatever they did to each other now paled in comparison to what he’d do to them. Once you got used to that type of hard fucking, that intensity of pleasure, there’s no coming back. The girls knew it and fucked each other with the same brutal, determined power they loved to have.

When Moni unlocked, and her orgasm ended. She collapsed on her back, tiny milk-rivers dribbling down her body from the big cones on top of her hard-breathing chest. Starla and Sally snuggled against her, each taking a nipple in their mouth. They slowly sucked Moni, drinking her milk, releasing the pressure on Moni’s two balloons. She had a lot of milk, a huge amount. It had to be milked all the time. This is something both girls were happy to help her with at any time.

Sally was lactating too, but not nearly as much. She and Starla just had a few small orgasms that night. That was ok because later, they’ll pair up as usual and fuck till they faint. They first wanted to take care of Moni. Her hormones were so high, she was so horny she’d fuck a street cone. While Moni drifted into a post-orgasmic blissful sleep, the two pregnant women wrapped themselves around each other, kissing and fondling, sucking on each other’s tits. It was all gentle and loving, occasionally fingering each other, rubbing their clits. The girls slowly detached, scissoring their legs, slowly rubbing their pussies against each other. After a few minutes, Starla reached in her bag, pulling out a short but extremely thick double-ended dildo. The girls expertly stuffed their pussies grinding against each other, holding hands, making themselves cum. They kept at it for several hours until they were exhausted and drifted off to sleep.

The orders finally came. They found him! The military intelligence finally got a solid lead on Al-Mukhtar. He made his way through Syria into Lebanon, finally stopping in a city named Shheem, where they got him tailed under constant surveillance. He was certainly up to no good. Al-Mukhtar met in secret with many covered men. Nobody knew what the meetings were about, but those men would later meet with the others. Whatever it was, his message would spread fast.

At the same time, the number of murders skyrocketed. People were being killed in their homes during sleep. Someone was doing some sort of cleansing killing hundreds for no apparent reason. It was all connected somehow. Everyone knew something big was about to go down. The air was pregnant with nervous expectation. The military didn’t want any mistakes; everything had to work out perfectly. This is why I was chosen for this task. I was the best of what they had, and I was expendable. They were sending me to Lebanon in secret; it was utterly black ops.

The support team was assembled and our itinerary planned. Saladin told me he wouldn’t be coming with us. His fight was in Syria, but he wished me well as a brother. The plan was to sneak into Lebanon through Baalbek, but Saladin vetoed the idea. “Do not go through Baalbek if you want to live. It is a sacred land full of hidden dangers. You must find another route”.

They wanted to ignore him, but I put my foot down, telling them that I’m not stepping a foot there and they can find another sniper for all I cared, regardless of the consequences. This wasn’t really a clean operation but a murder of a foreign national or a foreign sovereign soil.

I was awake early in the morning, watching the sunrise with tears in my eyes; it was so beautiful. Images of Sally standing in the orchard, in tall grass doing her rituals flashing through my mind. My dearest Sally, Moni and Starla too. My women, my children. I hoped to meet them in some other life, for this life was almost spent. I could feel it in my bones, the death approaching bringing me the final release.

I sat next to the driver of a large SUV. It was only me and three of the toughest marines I had the pleasure of serving with. They had my back many times, and I looked after them from the roofs above. We were on our own now. All of us knew the importance of our mission and the dangers of what we were about to do. I saw it in their eyes; they could feel it too. This was going to be a one-way trip.

We drove fast for a day and a night, unchallenged by anyone. Our directions specifically used less travelled roads. After we all had a go at driving, we needed some good rest to keep alert and ready for instant action. We got off the road, parking a car out of sight between two hills. I helped Jim pitch the tent while the two other marines did a perimeter check. I lay on a bag outside, looking at the stars, thoughts going through my head, memories past, hitting me one after another. They say a man sees his life flashing back before his death. I just never thought it would take this long to die, feeling the tears roll down my face before closing my eyes.

The following night we crossed the Lebanese border in the middle of nowhere, carefully driving towards our planned destination. A few hours later, we stopped at our meeting point, changing our clothes and cars into something that would help us disguise ourselves as locals. We were given an update and critical latest intel. Al-Mukhtar was moving to Beirut. There was a lot of movement and radio chatter coupled with cryptic messages on the Internet.

We changed our direction, our local guides taking us to the safe house there. The radios buzzed with the latest news. Apparently, some big meeting was going to happen in a couple of days in a warehouse down by the docks. This gave us enough time to recon. Find the best locations to stake our target and plan the lines of retreat.

We spent the following day driving around the city, scouting, looking at locations, traffic flows and general movement of people. Late that night, we sat down with a city plan. I’ve chosen the best location on the roof of another warehouse building to place a sniper. Jim was going sit with me as a spotter. Two other two guys would run security and make sure we’re not compromised on the ground. We had only one shot at this; all of it had to go according to the plan.

The day finally came. At four afternoon, we jumped out of the car, heading quickly towards the warehouse. Our guy drove off, parking a car some quarter-mile away at what we determined was a secure location. Only a couple of guards walked around the building. That was another reason why we chose it. Unfortunately, they were collateral damage. We couldn’t have anyone recognize our involvement in the assassination of someone this high-profile.

We ran up to the guards, grabbing them from the back, breaking their necks. They were dead in seconds. We dragged them inside and stashed them away. The two marines continuing the rounds wearing guards clothes. Jim went up first using a maintenance ladder. I followed, carrying the heavy sniper gun and clips with bullets. I set myself in a position on top of the roof while Jim covered us with a concrete-coloured tarp, masking our presence. If someone looked from afar, they wouldn’t be able to see two people with a gun.

Jim and I lay there waiting, listening to our earpiece for a live update. Jim lay next to me, operating a combat camera with telephoto lenses. Neither of us knew how to recognize Al-Mukhtar. We saw hundreds of people entering a large warehouse. By quarter to six, there might have been a thousand of them there. Something big was indeed about to go on. The little speaker in my ear buzzed. They had an eye on Al-Mukhtar; he was coming in a black SUV.

Jim searched with the camera and found the car. I followed his directions with my sniper gun. It was precisely six when four guys got out, Jim streaming everything live in real-time. Within a minute, we got a positive identification. The man wearing checkered black and white keffiyeh, a scarf covering his head and face, was Al-Mukhtar. He walked slowly, surrounded by four guys. I saw him approach a large group of people and exchange greetings. I had him in crosshairs. He was as good as dead, just waiting for the final confirmation.

I waited for a minute, concentrating, calming my body, controlling my breath. The sound in my ear crackled, and the order came through “take him out”. At that very moment, I saw Al-Mukhtar turn around and face me. His piercing eyes that I knew I'll never be able to forget, looking right in my direction as if he knew I was right there. I tapped the trigger and fired my shot.

At that second, there was a massive blast, like an explosion of a nuclear bomb. It wiped everything in its path, including the building I was on. The last thing I felt was a massive, relentless force crushing my body, breaking my bones. My last thought was on Sally as I let go of my life.

It was a beautiful wedding. Over a thousand guests gathered, wearing their best clothes sitting on foldable chairs, barefoot on a sandy beach. The sun dropped in the background as the music started. Wearing exquisitely beautiful white wedding dresses, Sally, Moni and Starla proceeded barefoot towards the sea and white wooden arch dressed in white flowers. The judge from Starla’s arraignment stood there wearing a beautiful dress, her golden necklace with oval white pearl glinting in the light.

The three girls stood there, holding their hands as the sun gave way to the full moon. “We’ve gathered here on this auspicious night to celebrate the gift of love”, the judge said. Some people from the audience murmuring, “blessed is the gift of love”.

“You three have been on an amazing journey, separated by force, united by love. It was that love that kept you together and brought you the gifts of Origin. Blessed is the Origin”.

“Moni,” said Sally, “you are the love of my life. In good and bad, darkness or light, I always thought about you. I gave you my heart. And you, Starla, I love you as much as I love Moni. I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Both of you are my heart and soul. I love you truly from the bottom of my heart. I want to share my life with you, enjoy all the gifts for as long as I breathe.”

The girls said their vows to each other, happy tears running down their cheeks. They weren’t the only ones crying. All three sets of parents, holding their three young babies, sobbed hearing their words, squeezing each other’s hands for emotional support. A few select cameras recording the wedding broadcasting it live on the Internet, inspiring many.

“Sally, do you take Moni and Starla as your lifetime partners, to share your heart and soul with, love and respect them and share in all the gifts of Origin till the end of time?” asked the judge. “I do! I do! I do!” three times she repeated, her tears in free flow rolling down. All girls were asked the same question, answering the same.

“Through my eyes, my mind and my soul, I feel your love is strong, and your words are true. I, judge Clarice Ann Watkins, from Los Angeles, California, recognize this marriage as a gift of Origin and testify to that in front of all”. Almost a thousand people stood up and recited the same in a loud murmur of voices, recognizing the marriage as one. Judge reached in a small box, pulling out a fine gold necklace with a perfect oval, egg-like pearl attached to a miniature ornate golden crown connecting the two and put it around Sally's neck, before doing the same to the other two girls. “You are now married to each other, you can celebrate your gift of love. Blessed is the gift of love. Blessed is the Origin”.

The girls kissed each other, hugging tightly, jumping and yelping in happiness. The judge spoke, “Dear friends, we were all touched by your bravery, unwavering faith and commitment to each other. Your gift of love is strong. This didn’t go unnoticed, and as a surprise and our thank you for showing us a good example, we have someone who wants to meet you.”

A thousand women rose up again and started to hum. The judge moved aside, and out of shimmering light reflected on water walked out a gorgeous young woman wearing an exquisite sheer white satin dress. She had long jet black hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her body was curvy and beautiful beyond compare with the raw sex appeal that drew everyone in.

The three girls watched in shock the approaching woman. They never saw her before but recognized her instantly. She was Lucy of the Moon, the first Giver of Origin, the second-highest priestess of their faith. She approached the girls, taking their hands into hers, speaking in a pearly voice, “your love touched me; it touched all of us. You are a great example to many. I came to give you three gifts, what will they be?”.

Sally spoke first from the bottom of her heart, her tears flowing freely, her heart ripping apart. “I wish Carter finds peace wherever he is”. The two other girls hearing that bawled. Moni said, “I wish Carter finds love wherever he is”. Starla was tougher than the two others, remembering the last words she told him and said, “I wish Carter finds his way home, to me, to us”.

The girls hugged each other, crying for a few minutes. Lucy watched their crying eyes for a while, then closed her own. She stood there in deep meditation for a minute before opening her eyes with a smile. Turning to each girl, she took her hand in her own, raising her right palm towards the girl, looking deep into her eyes and spoke, “so be it”. By the time she reached Starla, the other two girls were on their knees bawling like babies, thanking the giver for granting their wish.

Lucy smiled and turned around, walking into the moonlit sea. Suddenly thousands of women who watched the wedding online poured onto the beach, jumping into the water smiling and laughing.

Dean watched the ceremony, finding it beautiful. He didn’t fully understand what was going on, but he didn’t have to. It was a perfect display of people loving each other and caring, committed to sharing their life journeys together. When girls started to run towards the sea, he looked around and saw a suspicious large middle-aged man with a shaved head and long greying beard. The man looked large but also very muscular. The expression on his face was intense and raw, almost scary.

What drew Dean's attention to him was that he seemed to be completely disinterested in the wedding, staring intently at a little girl Eve, his new best friend. For some reason, Dean felt extremely protective of Eve, so things like that immediately got his alarm bells ringing.

Touching Eve’s shoulder, he told her to run to the three brides and congratulate them. As soon as she took off, he tapped Kitty and Joy, her mothers, pointing at the man standing above, on the pavement next to the railing. The two women’s eyes went big, seeing the man. Immediately both of them kneeled on the sand towards him, bowing their heads.

Dean didn’t know what this was all about. Like most things connected to those women, it just escaped his reason. He walked up to the man intending to question him, but as he got closer, he saw his eyes. They were identical to the little girl’s. Dean scanned his face, like he learned in police training, finding identifying features. The man was clearly the little girl’s father. He smiled at Dean, reaching slowly for his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a sealed white envelope, handing it over. In a pleasant deep voice, he said, “please give this to Kitty”, then had another look at two kneeling women with a faraway look in his eyes, turned around and left.

Dean returned to still kneeling girls, tapping Kitty on her shoulder, letting her know that the man left. The girls stood up, and he handed them the envelope. They thanked him for everything and picked up Eve, which was the last time dean saw any of them.

Limos and busses were hired to pick all the guests from the beach and bring them back to the hotel for a big celebration. The vast banquet hall was exquisitely decorated with chandeliers, lights, beauty and pomp. The tables were full of cheering guests eating great food, drinking champagne. Many of Sally’s feminist friends found their way to Origin and radiated happiness.

Dozens of cheers and speeches were given, the brides’ combined parents looked at their daughters with love. After they got over the whole girls marrying girls situation, they were delighted. They even stopped blaming Carter for what he did to their daughters; everyone adored a little Carter and Moni's two twin baby girls Julie and Sarah.

The wedding party cost a lot of money, but the girls were rich, plus Sally made a lot from the book sales and public speeches they could afford it. Together they made their special day truly special. A lot of guests from different places decided to stay in the same hotel as them, so the party went on till the early hours of the morning.

Exhausted, the three girls went to their room and, after a warm shower, fell naked into the bed, wrapped around each other in a loving embrace, now as married women. They slept till late, leaving their room at lunchtime, joining their parents in the restaurant. The girls wanted to visit the friends who, for whatever reason, didn’t manage to get to the wedding. The first stop was New York. They flew with Sally’s parents and spent a week there, sleeping in Sally’s old room, going out shopping and partying with Sally’s school friends. Everyone was excited to see the three married women happy, especially after their ordeal. The three babies got so much attention that they slept without waking exhausted from constant action.

The week ended quickly, and they made the trip Moni initially feared. They flew to Seattle, where they were welcomed by Moni’s parents. It was an emotional reunion. The girls spent a lot of time walking around, checking out places, occasionally ending up having dinner with Moni’s few old friends. It was by far less energetic but more intimate feeling; Moni’s parents really enjoyed that. Both of them sat, watching the girls happy, feeling proud about how it all turned out.

The last stop was Riverside and Starla’s family. The girls flew to LA, where a car waited for them that drove them straight to Starla’s home. She was really excited to spend some time with her brand new little brother Tom. Over twenty years of difference between them, in fact, she was going to give birth soon, giving Tom a little nephew or a niece his own age. Out of all three, this was the most intimate visit. Starla had no friends in Riverside, but she had loving parents who were devastated, thinking they lost her. Now that they reconnected, after going through the traumatic experience, they ended up closer than ever.

All girls have used their money to help their families. This help was most significant to Starla’s parents, who were the poorest. Starla’s dad was now an owner of a small hardware store with staff and plenty of time for himself. Both her parents needed a break to focus on their new baby. Having a child so late in life was hard. It was a young person’s game.

The girls returned to Los Angeles, where they rented a large apartment in the hills. This was just a temporary solution till they got their life in order. Both Starla and Sally were expecting and wanted to have good medical care to deliver the babies without any issues.

A few days after they arrived and settled down, there was a knock on their doors. Starla opened and, in shock, let two men in military uniforms in. The girls looked at them, frozen in fear. There was no way this was good news. The men asked the girls to sit then gave them the news of Carter’s death. Moni fainted, Sally burst into tears, unable to say a word. Starla was the strongest of the three; she asked, “are you sure he is dead? Have you seen his body?”.

“No, mam, I am truly sorry. I can’t get into the details, but he died in an explosion. The blast was so severe that nobody survived. There were no bodies to be found, nothing was left”. Starla nodded, suppressing her tears and saw the men out. She joined the two girls, hugged them, bawling like a baby, feeling an enormous sense of loss.

The girls cried for a long time. Starla made everyone some tea. They sat at the table staring in the distance, unable to fully process the news. “He can’t be dead. I don’t believe it”, said Sally. The girls looked at her in hope. “Remember the wishes that we were granted at our wedding. That can’t be the truth; I won’t have it”. Sally truculently refused to accept it. She was the one who was with Carter the longest. Starla chimed in, “there was no dead body. They never even looked for it”. For hours the girls talked about Carter. It was the first time they really talked about him. They all loved him, missing him terribly when he disappeared.

They found out only later after Carter was arrested that the military men took him away. The girls tried to find out what happened to him, but nobody would tell them. Moni spoke with Dean, and he pulled some of his connections, telling the girls that he was deployed back in the middle east on a last tour of duty until the dust of his murderous rampage settles.

Now that they heard how he was dead, the girls really talked about carter for the first time. When they lived together, it was a taboo subject. They all knew how he doesn’t like to be asked questions about his life. He was deeply wounded by what he has done and didn’t want to be reminded of that. That magic spell somehow broke when they were informed of his demise, and now the girls couldn’t stop talking about him.

It was unbelievable for Carter to be dead. He was a scourge sent to punish the wicked. Sally told the girls the story of a winter night when Carter shot a pack of wolves. Starla shared for the first time what she found in the barn, the tortured men in a horrible state. Moni repeated the story of how Carter pulled the unconscious rapists out of the house. The terrible look in his eyes and his sheer brutal unstoppable force. Sally ended with the story of the cabin and blood-curdling screams coming from the forest and a room full of corpses shot in their heads. Carter singlehandedly killed over seventy men like some sort of vengeful angel of death coming for his woman.

None of it made sense. The girls followed the news closely, getting every tidbit of information. They learned of ultimate carnage, a single man destroying a whole gang of hardened criminals without a single scratch. The way he murdered that priest was gruesome. It was unpublished information, but Dean gave them a dossier. Carter was the kindest, most loyal man they ever met. He killed all those men just so the girls could be safe. He was also a monster, a demon, a dragon unleashing his wrath.

To hear and believe he was just dead, gone in some explosion far away, just didn’t make sense. They never got his body; therefore, they had no clue, finally their wishes and wedding gifts. They were clear and explicit, and they were granted. Believing the gifts to be false would be denying their faith. It was that faith that kept them together. That faith gave them their strength.

“This is just the test of our faith”, said Starla, who was raised in deep religious life. “Yes, we are being tested. Our faith and love for Carter are put on a test”, Moni added. “I choose to have faith. I refuse to think he is dead. Until someone shows me his body until I see it with my own eyes, I won’t believe the word they are saying”, Sally added to that.

Origin wasn’t just some random religion based on stories and myth tampered by priests. It was simple and tangible. They felt it every morning at dawn. The welcoming ceremony was about the believers giving their faith freely, thanking the Origin for all its gifts, most notably the light. The ceremony was also about affirming one’s faith through seeing, experiencing the vast creation, feeling connected to it, feeling its effects wash through their body and minds. Since time immemorial, people worshipped the sun. Before the prophets, gods and sages, people felt the truth in their hearts. They didn’t need scripture and someone to tell them what to think. They would just come out at down, raise their hands and let it come. The women felt that force of creation more than any as they brought a new blessed gift of life into the world.

Instead of immense, overwhelming sadness, the girls felt receiving the news from military men. They felt quickened and focused, and their faith affirmed and renewed. It wasn’t anymore about Carter being far away or dead. It was about faith, about believing the power of the creation. The girls were given the gifts they wanted, and this was the mystery and a way of receiving.

After a long chat, the girls fell asleep exhausted. They woke up just before dawn, making their way to the beach to welcome the sun and raise their hands in worship, feeling the weight of the world come off their shoulder. They knew now, without any doubt, what they needed to do, they had a plan and focus, and they were determined.

The sun came up; the girls felt the light and its warmth wash their naked bodies. They understood all their wishes were granted. The military lost Carter, which only meant he was coming back. “We welcome the sun and give our thanks. Blessed is the gift of light. Blessed is the Origin”.