Hatchette

By Molly Prude

Roku is a killer – a hunter and executioner of males. A hundred years after the Dick and Jane Wars, the last male on the Plant Earth has been banished, leaving womankind ascendant. The birth of a new Great Society has begun, but the male of the species has not slunk quietly into the darkness of space. No, Dicks have returned, disguised as women, to reap havoc on the peaceful Earth.

The Hatchettes were created to seek out and destroy this threat. Young women; genetically engineered killers; sleeper agents placed in deep cover, hunting and kill males wherever they might be found.

Roku is a Hatchette. By day a normal schoolgirl; by night a scullery maid for the powerful Ober Wives. Between suffering the erotic punishments of the insane School Matrons and fending off the advances of the lascivious Obers, there is little time for Roku to execute her mission. But a fateful trip one night to a south-side brothel thrusts Roku center stage into a sordid struggle of sex and power, in this fast-paced tale of erotic science fiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Prude
• Release date: Sep 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311007438

Molly Prude

Molly Prude is the star of her own erotic fantasies, she wants you to star in them, too.A native of Philadelphia, a mom and an avid writer, Molly's adventures have recently taken her to the erotic, supernatural community of Serenade Springs. She's always looking for company, so why not tag along and see how kinky a Kinky Mom can really be...

Book preview

HATCHETTE

by

Molly Prude

(writing as A.E. Ducheau)

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2010 by Molly Prude

email the author at [e-mail]

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older

Chapter 1

Dick and Jane

Roku was late for class again. Her heels echoed as they clicked down the cavernous corridors, from St. Juliet's central Cloister all the way out to the Social Studies classrooms. She should be running, Roku knew, but she'd twist an ankle if she attempted it. Stupid fucking shoes! The five inch heels served no purpose but to stick her ass out from under the ridiculously short pleated skirt – her school 'uniform'. What a joke. She couldn't reach for as much as a dropped stylus without flashing her panties at the whole world.

But then Roku guessed that was the whole point – the tight cotton shirt hugging snuggly to her breasts, the white knee-high socks contrasting into the black of her Mary Janes – the Matrons were a bunch of fucking perverts, all the way up the Order. Even whatever bureaucrat, hidden away in some small office somewhere in the Sentinel Building, must have been masturbating frantically as she'd conceived of the school dress code. Just the thought of every pubescent girl in the world showing off their tight little ass – you could just see her, fingers buried up to the second knuckle, deep in the wet warmth of her jane.

Thinking like that wasn't getting Roku to class any faster.

She took the next corner far too quickly, and her feet gave out underneath her. An ankle buckled and her arms shot out for balance. Her history textbook went flying, along with her leather folio. Shit! She cursed to herself. She needed to be careful. The folio contained her tablet and stylus, as one might expect, but it also doubled as a secret holster for her burner – the small plasma handgun she'd, as a Hatchette, been issued. If that thing went off at school... well, her cover would be well and truly blown. Teenage girls weren't supposed to carry around energy weapons, and certainly shouldn't bring them to school. Her mission would be over before it had even begun if anyone found out about the weapon – discovered that Roku was secretly a Hatchette.

Gathering up her things, she hopped the last few meters to the door of her History Class. She sucked in a deep breath and turned the handle of the door. She wasn't one step into the room before the Matron sent the black, heavy battery pack flying. This was the normal punishment for tardiness: a spare battery pack for a tablet thrown, full force, by the Matron at the tardy student's head. There'd be more punishment later, of course, but the blow to the head instantly punctuated the Matron's displeasure.

Roku could have caught the battery pack. Even taken by surprise, the door still only half open, she could have reached out and caught the black block in the air – all Hatchettes' reflexes were artificially enhanced and augmented – but she went ahead and let the battery smack her in the left temple. A Hatchette could have caught the battery pack in the air without thinking, but not a normal schoolgirl. And that was what Roku was pretending to be. Roku would have to take her lumps and like it.

Late again, Roku? the Matron asked, not expecting and answer. The other girls, already in their seats, tittered like the schoolgirls they were.

Sorry, Matron, Roku replied, trying to sound contrite. Roku held her hand to her head in an pantomime of pain. The blow hadn't hurt her. Her body registered the injury, that was all. Pain was irrelevant to Roku.

Pick it up, the Matron ordered, and Roku knew that the second part of her punishment had arrived. She bent forward and reached out to where the battery had landed. She had the top three buttons of her shirt undone, as all the girls did; it was the style and an unofficial part of the dress code. She knew the Matron would get a good solid look down her cleavage – the smooth flesh of her C-cup breasts pushing out of her shirt. Roku looked up to see the Matron smiling. The pervert! A hint of a tongue emerged and licked the bright scarlet of the Matron's lips. Roku stood up and walked the short distance across the classroom to the Matron, letting her heels click on the stone.

See me after class, Roku, the Matron said, taking the battery pack. Roku turned and skulked away, but could feel the Matron's eyes burning into her rear. She found a seat in the front row.

The Matrons were supposed to be chaste – they belonged to an ascetic order – but they treated the school as little more than their own personal harem. Punishments, as Roku knew, were usually sexual in nature– pain and pleasure all wrapped in one.

All the Matrons were insane, Roku thought, draped from shoulder-to-toe in their long block robes, a tight corset worn on the outside to give their middle-aged frames shape. They applied white, pancake makeup generously to their faces, giving them all the appearance of crazed kabuki actresses. They were rapers of teenage girls, pure and simple, using the Order’s purity to give their acts an air of godliness.

But the Hatchettes had not been created to punish the Matrons. No, purging the Order if its perverts was not Roku’s mission, as much as it would have pleased her to do so. The Hatchettes had been created to hunt down and destroy a much more dangerous predator than the holy Order of Matrons. The most evil predator of all:

Men.

As I was saying before I was interrupted, the Matron continued, shooting Roku a glance that was half disapproval, half lust. The Dick and Jane Wars were the seminal event in the birth of our Great Society, and for the rest of this semester we will be studying each of the wars in detail.

Roku pulled her tablet out of her folio and turned it on. The Matron's lecture notes appeared on the screen.

As strange as it may seem to a room full of young girls, she said young with a tone that only a middle-aged deviant could obtain. "There used to be two sexes of humankind: male and female. But by the end of the last century, after countless generations of subjugation, the female sex rebelled.

There were six wars in all – but that is misleading... though we distinguish between the separate wars, they were all part of the same struggle: the struggle to liberate womankind, end of male hegemony and give birth to our Great Society, the Matron paused to let her rhetoric settle in the ears and impressionable minds of her pupils. Now, if you'll navigate your tablets to entry fifty-six, we can begin this lecture with a discussion of how technological advancements in ex-utero fertilization led to...

Roku switched off her brain.

The Matron blathered on, describing how the creation of the birthing banks had given womankind the ability to control its own fertilization without relying on the male of the species for genetic material; how men had used this detail of human biology for centuries to oppress the female; how, with the biological link between the sexes broken, relations between men and women quickly degraded into open warfare.

Those were the Dick and Jane Wars. Roku had studied it all in Hatchette training. The real history, though, not the propaganda bullshit the Matron's peddled straight from the Commissariat.

The Janes eventually won their struggle, driving the last of the male species off the planet. They still existed, of course: the men, on other planets in the solar system – colonies and moon bases and so on. But on Earth, for a hundred years, the Dicks had been banished. It was a golden age, the birth of a Great Society.

Freedom for all Janes. The end of male oppression. But the Dicks had not taken their defeat lightly. No, banished from paradise, they became more determined than ever to return from the cold blackness of space and retake their place, once again, as the self-appointed masters of the Earth.

All that stood between womankind and a return to subjugation was the collective will of all women – the collective will, expressed through the Commissariat...

And, of course, the Hatchettes.

The Men had many times assaulted the orbital defenses, but always they had been sent back into the blackness, defeated. Frustrated, they had turned to other methods, attempting to assault the Earth from within. They sent spies. Terrorists. Male terrorists, yes, but converted. Pumped full of estrogen, breasts augmented, they came to the earth as transsexuals, able to hide amongst the Janes and move around freely.

The early spies had been easy to catch – poor imitations of women – but over the years their techniques had become more refined. The Dicks had, of late, succeeded in pulling off a number of high profile attacks; attacks on government installations. The threat had begun to panic the population.

This was the genesis of the Hatchette Project – recruiting young girls into its ranks. Spies for the spies. Counter spies. Sleeper agents all over the planet, seeking out the Dicks wherever they dared show themselves. Waiting. Watching.

The bell signaled the end of the hour.

As the classroom began to clear of girls, Roku contemplated slipping quietly out, but she knew if she skirted her punishment this time, it’d just be worse the next. Now was as good a time as any to take her lumps. The Matron had another class soon. What heights of perversion could the Matron reach in the ten minutes between classes? Roku shuddered to think.

But Roku's next class was Calisthenics, and she hated to be late for that. Calisthenics was hell, but meant the showers afterward. And showers meant the Mosh. Roku detested the idea of being late for the Mosh... but now was as good a time as any, she kept telling herself; the Matron had another class on its way.

Roku skulked up to the front desk, behind which the Matron sat, tapping at a tablet.

Late again, Roku? the Matron said, not looking up from the tablet.

Yes, Matron. I'm sorry, Matron. I fell. In the hall, and twisted-

You're getting to be quite a pretty girl, Roku, the Matron interrupted. Roku clutched her folio closer to her breast. Oh, if only the Matron was a Dick... if only... Roku could pull out her burner and this would all be over...

Yes-yes Matron, Roku said weakly, but the Matron was right, the last year had treated Roku very well. The Hatchette genetic augmentation had packed muscle onto Roku's frame, and she was now a good five centimeters taller than she had been at seventeen. Her breasts were round and full and needed no support to stand up against her shirt. She had taken to cropping her straight black hair off at the shoulder and her pretty girlish features had turned womanly. Yes, she was starting to become quite a pretty girl, as the Matron said, but she was also extremely deadly. The Matron didn't know this about Roku, though Roku ached to show her just exactly how deadly she could be...

So many, many, pretty, naughty girls... the Matron looked up from her tablet and smiled a lizard smile. The caked, white face makeup made her look ancient. Ancient and evil. Three lashes, she added, suddenly stern.

But- Roku began to protest, but knew she'd just make things worse. The Matron was already rising from her seat and pulling out the leather strap from a desk drawer. Roku knew the drill, she put her books down on the Matron's desk and leaned forward, pushing her firm buttocks out from under her short skirt.

Will you be late for class again? the Matron asked, circling the desk. She pulled Roku's skirt up and slipped a hand down the back of Roku's white, cotton panties. The Matron's hand squeezed each cheek of Roku's ass, then explored down the back of her thighs.

No, Matron... Roku allowed, trying to sound afraid. She was hanging on with her fingers to the edge of the Matron's desk, her head hanging down between her arms. She knew she wouldn't feel the spanking, her training had taught her to ignore pain, but she needed to sound scared – humiliated. The Matron had to get her pleasure out of this, or she might get suspicious.

The Matron pulled Roku's panties down to her ankles, dropping to her knees as she did so. She brought her face within inches of Roku's bare behind. The Matron lingered there, holding the panties down, looking up into the black hair of Roku's jane. Roku arched her back slightly and bent a little in the knees. That should give her a good look, Roku thought. Roku couldn't see, but she suspected the Matron was positively lapping at her lips, looking up into the pinkness of Roku's labia.

Roku began to feel a warmness growing inside herself... maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. It was a turn-on to have that old pervert looking up and sniffing at her ass. If nothing else, it'd get her fired up for the Mosh, later.

Then the first lash came: sharp and searing across her rump. Roku hadn't seen the Matron rise to her feet. The power of the blow buckled Roku at the knees. Roku faked a whimper of pain and stayed squatted down beside the desk – all the better for the Matron's pleasure.

Up! Get up! the Matron ordered. A hand came down and pulled Roku up by the thigh, back into the spanking position. The second lash came, but now Roku had her knees locked. Will you be late for class again? the Matron asked one more time. You could almost hear the glee in her voice.

No, no Matron! I promise, Roku laid it on good and thick. No more, please! I've learned my lesson, I swear! You had to beg – that was all part of it for the Matron's. They had to know you'd do anything they wanted. Anything to put an end to the lashings.

That's a good girl... the Matron hissed. A hand caressed the welts on Roku's ass. It explored the firmness of her cheeks, then sneaked down between her legs. A finger slipped between the lips of Roku's jane, into her wetness. It found her clitoris and circled it. Oh, that felt good... an old, disgusting pervert the Matron might be, but who knew their way around a jane better than an old pervert? The finger dug its way deeper inside Roku, to be met with a friend and pushed hard against the vagina wall.

Oh... just when Roku thought she could cum, the fingers were quickly removed and the strap came down across Roku's buttocks with full force. Bitch! Roku, thought. The Bitch knew exactly what she was doing. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. If there had been time – no other class – the Matron would have had Roku eating out her jane just for a chance to cum. Roku would be begging for it... and she'd do it, too: eat out that old, desiccated cunt just to have those fingers back inside her for a few more seconds....

...Just think about the Mosh, Roku told herself. The Mosh was less than an hour away...

I hope you'll think about this the next time you dawdle before class... the Matron said, composing herself. More students would be arriving any second. She couldn't enjoy herself violating Roku for much longer.

Roku felt sorry for whatever girl made the tiniest of errors in the Matron's next class. The Matron had blatantly only whetted her appetite, and the next class was the last class of the day. The Matron would have all the time in the world to release her tensions on the next girl in need punishment. Yes, she'd be getting it good and proper from the Matron... a lot more than three lashes across the ass.

Roku pulled up her panties and picked up her books. Without a word, she headed for the door. She knew she was supposed to feel humiliated – that was what the Matron wanted to see, so Roku played the role. But she didn't feel humiliated. The Matron had only managed to turn her on.

Maybe Roku didn't feel sorry for the next girl... maybe Roku wanted to come back after the next class and force that old bitch to make her climax? But that was no good. That was the Hatchette training talking. Roku wasn't humiliated because she couldn't be humiliated. She was a Hatchette now. She'd do whatever, fuck whoever was required to complete her mission – to maintain her cover. She was above simple humiliation – she was a weapon of the Great Society.

But she wasn't above sex. The bottom line: she'd liked it. The Matron had played with her cunt and she wanted to cum. But she couldn't do so without acting in a way that no eighteen year old girl should ever do. She'd have to swallow her pride, look like a sad puppy, and slink out of the door.

Oh well, Roku would just have to take care of herself in the Mosh. After all, that was what the Mosh was for. She'd have to run her ten kilometers; but then it'd be back to the locker room, and into the showers. And the showers meant the Mosh.

And the Mosh was positively, absolutely the best fucking thing in the world...

Chapter 2

The Mosh

Roku was only