The Battered Lamp Chapter Twenty-Three: The Watery Dagger - Sex Stories

The Battered Lamp Chapter Twenty-Three: The Watery Dagger

... opened in terror... Fatima pushed that memory down. Karrie had tried to murder Aaliyah. And this football player was trying to kidnap the Genie. She didn't hesitate then, and she wasn't going to hesitate now. The hulk turned as she raced down the hallway, her yari leveled at him. He didn't even grunt as her spear was thrust into his gut. “The fuck?” Fatima gasped. She yanked her yari out, the wound oozing black blood. The hulk rippled, his skin fluid like the surface of a lake rippling after a rock had broken its surface. The skin darkened, growing hard and waxy. A carapace formed, thick and disgusting with spindly hairs. “Kill her,” Mrs. Skinner hissed. The insectrosity's arm lashed out. Fatima caught it on the haft of her yari. The force threw her back anyways. She tucked her body, holding her yari out, as she spun. She landed hard, rolling and coming up in a crouch. “Are you okay?” Aaliyah asked, clutched in the clawed fist of the insectrosity, dragged behind it as the thing advanced on Fatima. “Fine,” she muttered, slipping into her stance. Fire burned on the tip of her spear. She wanted to roast the insectrosity, but that would risk hurting Aaliyah. The thing lashed out with its fist. She caught it on the blade of her yari, deflecting the blow. Her edge didn't do a thing to its hard carapace. She let its arm slid past, then thrust her yari's tip at its chest. Her weapon cut through his shirt, exposing more dark carapace. “Fuck,” she muttered, ducking his next blow, ...

... falling back. Poor Aliyah gasped and grunted as she was hauled behind the creature. I need to be smart. She eyed the creature, holding her yari up in a defensive posture, falling back carefully. No panic. She threw a look over her shoulder. She had couldn't back up forever, the hallway juncture was approaching. Twenty steps and she would be pressed against lockers. “The joints!” Aaliyah gasped. “He's armored, but the joints are always vulnerable.” Fatima hadn't considered that. While she practiced sojudo in armor, she wasn't trained to actually fight an armored foe—it was only worn for safety. There were gaps in the insectrosity's carapace at the knees, the elbows, beneath the arms. She feinted, stabbing for the chest. The monster's posture shifted, telegraphing his overhand blow for her head. She ducked, shifting her thrust down. Air rushed over her head; the insectrosity attack just missing. Her yari had a three-foot blade, practically a double-edged sword, at the end of a five foot haft, and the edge of her blade bit into the things knee joint. It didn't roar as sinew and ligaments were cut. But it's leg buckled. She had wounded it. “Not so tough! I'm going to enjoy stepping on you and scraping you off my shoe, bug.” The shadows around her shifted, moving like oil slicking the surface of water. “Kill her, children,” hissed Mrs. Skinner. Fatima trusted her instincts. Shadows lanced at her, turning into stabbing spears. She was already moving, her body diving for the floor. She ...