The War Of Saviors Ch 01

This story is the sequel to The Introduction: He saved her life; she may just save his. Apparently my first story stirred up some passions within people (check the comments on the first story), and I hope that all of you would take the time to read this second installment. I thoroughly recommend taking the time to read my first story, as this one will make a whole lot more sense if you do. In case you were wondering, it has taken me over a year to submit this second story. I had been applying to medical school. I have been accepted and made my choice, and will be starting in the fall. I can not tell you what a huge relief all of that is!

If you would like to comment, please do - negative or positive. I would only ask that you do not post comments without either your Literotica Username or your real name attached. Feel free to email me, but once again, anonymous feedback is entertaining but not all that useful.

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Heat...Sweat...Pleasure...Pain...

Thick fingers caress my body. Strong thighs spread my legs wide apart. His cock dips deep – deeper – and deeper still. One hand – wrapped up in my hair, pulling my head into his neck. The other – lifting my ass up. Two fingers frame his dick as it pistons into and out of my sloppy wet cunt. A third is buried up my tight, virgin asshole.

A kiss. Hard and passionate. My mind keeps flashing. Light does not always exist. One second bright, the next dark. A gasp. His muscles, hard as rock.

I arch my back. He pulls my ass into him. I can feel him pulse. His cock rubs my cervix. I grind my hot lips against his hard crotch. His kisses – my neck...my shoulder...his hands everywhere at once. My nipples ache. He needs to squeeze them. I do it instead. I pinch and roll. First one, then both at the same time. My breath is gasping. I feel hot and heavy. I can't breathe. I'm building, amassing, rising. His cock begins to expand. His kisses accelerate. His gasps are sending me higher. He bites down on my neck as I feel his cock begin to expand and twitch...

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I don't open my eyes right away. Uncle Ben always taught me to assess my surroundings before showing that I was awake. Hearing is more acute with the eyes closed, besides. What I hear makes no sense. No moans, no screaming, no pleas for the help or mercy of God. Instead, the quiet chirp of crickets stirs my mind, while a northwesterly breeze ruffles my hair.

I crack my right eye open partially, and am still confused. I'm lying on my left side on a piece of cloth, my legs tucked into my chest. But it's soft. I want to go back to sleep. "Maybe I am. I must still be dreaming" I whisper to no one in particular. My mind begins to fog over and release me into that sweet release that is unconsciousness. A few more seconds, and oblivion will have opened its door...

A scream rips through my chest as a huge hand clamps over my mouth. "Fuck!" my mind screams as everything comes flooding back. I'm back, pinned against that wall. "Rape, death, murder, destruction" is all my mind has time to reel through my head. My eyes begin to tear, my nostrils flare to try and suck in air. My body tenses but can not – will not – respond. Hyperventilation begins. My lungs, sucking, pumping, but not enough air. I begin to get lightheaded, and start to pass out. Rape and death...the end of my life.

"Meagan! Please! Be Quiet!" floats across my consciousness, probing into my fog-filled head. Like a light breeze that clears low-hanging smoke after a forest fire, the tight whisper starts to clear my brain. The hand eases up a bit, but does not uncover my mouth. I suck in air like a drowning man struggling to the surface. My eyes snap open, and immediately my senses begin to come back to me. The hard cloth seat of an off-road vehicle rubs against my whole body. I'm lying almost completely flat, but my heart begins to pump blood back into my limbs. My hearing catches every sound, from the click of the cricket to the rustle of the leaves of the stand of trees fifty feet distant. Within less than a second, I'm back to my old self. Like lightning, my feet plunge forward to meet the dashboard. My right hand whips up to meet this newest threat. I grab a finger, twisting violently down and in. As I hear the snap of the finger, I push off the dash with my feet, and twist my body back and up. A startled grunt of pain accompanies my escape, and I hit the ground running – no looking back.

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"Shit!" Nothing more elaborate comes to mind. I stumble backwards as Meagan's surprisingly strong body pushes over top of me, and knocks me onto my ass. She's out of the jeep and running, while my finger instantly begins to swell. I'm no doctor, but a finger at 45 degrees sideways probably ain't natural. Pain is nothing...or rather, "Pain is weakness leaving the body". Those Marine tools used to spout that shit all the time, swaggering around, acting all tough. Too bad nobody ever told them that they may be the first in, but Spec Ops does all the real work.

I jump up, and instantly look to my right across the plain for Meagan. It's dark as fuckin' sin out here, and my black shirt and her camo pants afford me no vision of her. I don't hear her running though. But there! A groan of pain, but not my own. No flashlights – much too dangerous. I start forward cautiously. The glint of a red-rimmed right eye catches my attention at my feet. "Hmm, how adorable" I think to myself as I realize Meagan must have tripped in the dark. A small smile plays across my lips. I crouch down next to her.

"Meagan, darlin', are you all right?" I ask her in my most calm and quiet tone.

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Relief floods through my whole body as I finally recognize that voice. Pain lances through my legs and core as I try to move. Everything from the night comes rushing back to me. I close my eyes against the pain and the memories. The memories are the real pain. "So much for defending myself" I think. Considering I could not run four steps before I fell face-first into the dirt, my escape did not come off as I had hoped. The struggle of the previous night taxed my muscles, and they must have locked up during my sleep.

"Meagan! Answer me, please..." comes the quiet whisper from those luscious lips. I can't see his face, but his boots are right by my chest.

"Juice...John..." I croak as the dust fills my lungs as I try to breath in the hot night air. Strong arms lift me up and I nestle into the chest of the man who had saved me – not raped me. My mind begins to clear as I'm carried by powerful arms past the jeep. Twenty yards, and John places me on the ground. Soft, pliant ground. Wet. I feel a cool splash of water on my forehead.

"Meagan, baby, can you hear me?"

"Yes" I answer, stronger than before – but still cracked.

Hands tighten around my upper arms, and I'm lifted into a sitting position. John leans me back until I'm leaning against him, sitting parallel to a gurgling brook. His amazing fingers pull my hair back from my sweaty face, and I can feel his strong body encasing me, protecting me. My hands are compulsively squeezing each other, trying to clear the last vestiges of fear and pain from my mind. I feel cool water being rubbed across my face and neck. The dampness cools my feverish skin, and a big fat bead runs across my clavicle, down my neck, and disappears between my breasts. My chest is heaving, but my pulse is slowing, and I'm returning to normal. The smell of water hits my nose, and my parched throat and dusty lungs cry out for a luscious drink. I tip over John's left leg, trying to reach the life-saving water.

"No, Meagan, not that water."

Commands rarely register in my brain, so I continue to try to reach the precious fluid that will clear the last effects of my fear from my body. Commands may have always annoyed me, but never stopped me. A body stronger than mine certainly could.

"Here, I'll get you some water" John says to me, as he pushes up from the ground. Without the support of his rigid frame, I slip fully onto my side, and let the damp earth of the riverbank cool my face. I roll onto my back, and peer up at the moonless night sky. Within five seconds, a hand is again pulling me up, urging me to drink from a canteen.

I can honestly say that no drink ever tasted as pure or rich as that stale, plastic-y water that came from a military issue canteen.

"You gave me quite a fright there, little lady" John says to me as I greedily gulp his water. "I did not think you'd kick my ass for waking you up." His tone is joking, yet also sincere. If I'd been paying attention, I would have noticed the approval in his voice for my – successful yet unsuccessful – escape.

My cheeks quickly color red as I see that I had broken John's index finger on his left hand. "Sorry" I mutter, as I hang my head. "Some recompense he gets for saving my life" I think as embarrassment colors my cheeks.

"Hey, no worries. I shouldn't have surprised you like that. Of course, I didn't think you'd break my finger just for waking you up..." His voice trails off and a slight smile creases the corners of his beautiful mouth as I glance up at his face. So close to mine, the darkness is that thick. I can tell he is joking with me now, trying to ease my mood and still the fear that he saw race through my body.

"I'm ok" I whisper, not knowing why I'm being so quiet. It just seems the right thing to do, since John was whispering at me too. "What happened to me?"

"Well, you were in the process of giving me an amazing kiss I did nothing to deserve when your head drooped onto my chest, and you fell sound asleep. I laid you out full on the passenger seat, while I scouted the area a bit" came John's explanation of how I came to be asleep.

"About that kiss..." I huskily reply as I pull his face down to mine and envelop his sweet mouth with my aching lips. I probe my tongue between his lips, while pushing my hands back through his hair to lock around his head. His hands grip my back as he leans me down to the ground and rests his weight onto his elbows beside me. His right hand moves down to slide underneath my hip as his mouth tantalizes mine, and his tongue smoothes mine out. Our kisses are soft and slow, passionate yet light. My blood begins to quicken, and my head feels lighter than air. His left hand is holding my head, while his right alternately explores my back and ass. He slips his hand down and pulls my left leg to the side. He settles his hard body between my legs, and I can feel his rock-hard dick pressing into his tight Wranglers. His naked chest rubs hard against my sore torso. My nipples light up with half pain-half pleasure as his hard pecs crush them into my ribs. His moan escapes past our lips, and I can feel his crotch grinding into mine, as we both begin to let the passion flood our bodies with fire. He lets off my mouth, and kisses my jawline – so soft, so sweet. I throw my head back onto the ground, and moan, moan for all I'm worth. Suddenly, the kisses and grinding stops, and I'm jerked back to reality. Lying on the damp ground, next to a small stream, desiring a man I don't even know. Middle of Nigeria. Doctor. Health/humanitarian mission. My brain awakens, as obviously John's had when I started to moan.

"Sorry Meagan, I don't know what came over me" he apologizes to me in a penitent voice. "We need to be quiet, though."

"It's my fault. You woke me up in the middle of a dream, and I was trying to get you to fulfill what you were doing in that dream." I tell him with that same lusty voice. His breath catches in his throat as he realizes my meaning, and it's his turn for the blood to rise to his face. I smile as I pay him back for making me feel guilty about hurting him...

"Ok, passion aside, where are we right now?" I inquire of my sexy rescuer sitting before me.

"Well, we're about an hours drive north of the town, seeing as how I had to avoid all the major roads getting out of there. Didn't want any local militia coming to check out why a gun was fired off. And, well...I just had to get you out of there..." he trailed off as he apparently was leaving something out.

Cataloguing that impression for a later question, my mind begins to order information much as I learned to do in medical school. "What time is it?"

Taking a quick peek at the luminescent hands on his field watch, he whispers back, "1:52 AM".

"How long was I out for?"

"Oh, only about thirty-five minutes. I figured to scout the area while you were passed out, but this damned darkness hangs over this country like a freakin' blanket. There's a PLA encampment about an hour and half east-north-east of that shit-hole town, but I didn't want any patrols surprising us out here. That's why we need to be quiet, and I couldn't use my flashlight. I roamed about a hundred yards in every direction, and nothin' is threatening – yet" he ominously adds.

That particular PLA camp he referred to was well-known to me, considering it had been set up after my fourth week here in Nigeria. The PLA stood for the People's Liberation Army, and consisted of local militia run by a faction of the military that split off from the Government. The power-thirsty General Marius Nubta had taken nearly a third of the military with him in his coup attempt. Having failed at a quick overthrow of the Government President, Ohoomba Kutu, General Nubta retreated to the eastern portion of the country to raise more money and more arms. The Government, which was officially known as the Faata Party, consisted of a once-popular leader that had risen from the people through hard work and keeping his promises. Once installed as President, however, Kutu began to fail to keep his promises due to the corruption evident in every Government bureau and agency. Once the people were starving again, and crime was just as high as ever, President Kutu began to be seen as every other president before him had been – a conniving, lying, thief that was fleecing the people and country for all they were worth. Unfortunately for the people, President Kutu was actually an honest man, and was desperately trying to hold his country together. General Nubta and his band of drugged-up anarchists were raping the countryside and spreading lies about the Government. America, Great Britain, Germany, Japan, Russia, and China all refused to get involved in the conflict directly. The UN sent peacekeepers in to do absolutely nothing, as they usually do. However, most of the leading industrial nations in the country were backing one party or the other, in return for trading and mining concessions once some semblance of peace returned. Since De Beers had long ago monopolized the world market on diamonds, any new source of diamonds could mean a healthy influx of cash for any nation that could control Nigeria's mines. "Blood Diamonds" were nothing new, but their link to terrorist-harboring nations such as Afghanistan, Syria, and Lebanon had recently been discovered. Fortunately for the well-to-do "first-world" people who purchased diamonds on the world market, the blood being spilled was not theirs. So, it came to be that humanitarian missions sent in by the Red Cross, UN, and other organizations were the only source of relief for the people of Nigeria. The American government clearly had CIA and Special Forces operating in the country, as I had seen hints of military operations being run that were far to organized and specialized to be of any other country. The PLA camp that John was referring to had been set up after an intense battle culminating in the PLA occupying not only the eastern portion of Nigeria, but also the majority of the south lands. They had tried to harass the humanitarian missions in the beginning, but left them alone when the UN threatened to send in armed combatants. Like that would ever happen...However, patrol parties and deserters from the PLA had been seen all over the southeastern portion of the countryside. That is probably why John seemed so nervous at the present time.

"What aren't you telling me about those men in town, the reason why you hesitated a minute before?" I inquired of John.

His look of surprise showed me that he had hoped to avoid this question. He remained silent for long enough that I thought he wouldn't answer. "John, tell me, I think I have a right to know. We're both in trouble, from what you have implied."

With a sigh and sinking of the head, John consented. "Have you heard about the PLA Silence squads, as the media likes to call them?" he asked me.

"Yeah" I said, as my eyes flashed with realization first, and then fear second. "Please don't tell me..."

"No doubt. Let's just say that I've been – harassed – of late with a few of these squads, and thought I had one following me for the last four days. I never expected them to be so close to me and Rodeo, but when I saw them in that town square, attacking you..." his voice trailed off with apparent concern.

My head swam with the implications. The PLA Silence squads were better than what the Israeli's achieved with the Death Squads they employed after the massacre at the Olympics. Four man teams of elite soldiers were trained especially to deliver terror and spread fear throughout the people of the country. They were hit-men without targets, or a target of the entire nation. Rape, murder, and pillaging are their tools, while hatred and greed are their driving forces. Answering to no one besides General Nubta himself, these squads had lately been assigned to squash all foreign assistance to the Government. If they had been following John, then that meant....

"What are you doing here? Are you American? CIA? MI6? What? Why are they following you?" I blurted out, much too quickly.

"First, I am American. John Browning is my full name. And yes, I am CIA. But I can't tell you anymore than that, not right now. We need to get out of here. I need to get back to Rodeo."

"What's Rodeo?" I asked, puzzled.

John smiled as he got to his knees. "Rodeo isn't a place," he laughed, "but more of a singular being..."

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Speeding through the dark wilderness, trying to avoid detection by running with no lights, I had a thousand thoughts swimming through my head. The closeness of the Silence squad worried me, a lot, but their increasing daring was also a worry. Never before had they attacked any of the humanitarian mission people, simply tried to prevent them from receiving goods or helping certain groups of Nigerians. The "impure" race, as they called them. "Hah!" I snorted to myself. Those fuckin' animals think everyone outside the PLA is impure." As of yet, President Kutu had not formed any organization within the Government military to resist the Silence squads directly, but that was likely to change soon. I needed to get back to Rodeo. If he woke up to find me gone, then he might tear the whole town to pieces to find me. And if that Silence squad was supposed to report in to the PLA camp at any specified time...I stepped on the accelerator, hoping that my presence had not been discovered yet by the PLA.

"John?" I heard Meagan's sweet whisper reach my ear as her hand gripped my thigh. Close to where I wanted it, but not close enough to distract me all that much.

"Yeah?" I asked as a risked a quick glance in her direction.

"What's your plan? You said you need to get back to Rodeo, but I don't even know who that is. I'm a doctor, by the way. I work at the humanitarian camp outside of town. I should get back to the group, they'll be wondering why I haven't shown up."

I smiled as she told me that she was a doctor. I had known it the minute she had walked into my view in that plaza by her dress, but she confirmed it when she splinted my finger with strict warnings not to strain it too much. I laughed to myself, and thought "Like I can avoid straining my hand trying to help save this damn nation." Returning her to her group of doctors sounded like an ok idea, as they would probably be able to protect her. But...I still wanted to know how that dream of hers had ended.