GOLD
Return of Rakshasa: The
Impaler
Written by Mr. K
He killed Gold for the third time that night. He killed her in same way he
had the other two times that week; he drove the spear down from above, sending
it into her back, and through her sculpted torso. It ripped into the fabric
of the mattress on which she knelt, and Gold screamed out in the empty, dark
bedding department of Riccis department store at half-past
midnight.
Athletic muscles relaxed, a rattling gasp escaped her slack red lips, her
eyes rolled back, and the golden one died in a quickly-spreading pool of
her own blood. The slender man watched each detail of her death, cocking
his head slightly to see if it was true. Rakshasa had not lied; she was
beautiful, and her death was true art. He didnt look closely the first
two times but now he drank in every detail. He enjoyed her death.
Just like the first two times, he absorbed the waves. Her clit was pulsing,
her big, thick labia shuddered, and he felt the shock wave explode from her
pussy. This was the gift. This was what Rakshasa gave him. He could kill
these costumed bitches, just as their orgasms came over the horizon, and
drink an energy mortal men would never know.
Standing there in his black clothes, his long black trench coat, and his
wide-brimmed black fedora he placed a big, leather boot in the center of
her lean, sculpted back, and pressed. Her body shifted with his weight and
pressure. He had killed Gold, and eaten her energy.
With a lazy smile, the pale, lean man left her sprawled on the mattress,
and went to the roof of the Riccci building. That was where he left Golden
Bat.
Anger surged through the girl. She wanted to pull her hands from between
her thighs, and rush down the stairs of the Ricci building to help Gold fight
the skinny man in black. She wanted to let go of the spandex contours of
her mound, sticky-sweet juices seeping through the tight second-skin crotch
of her costume, and battle the asshole. It was a pipe dream. The more she
wanted to rush into battle, the more details she felt each detail in her
big, wet pussy. Her clit was swollen, and hard. Her engorged labia, always
thick and protruding, felt big and juicy between her fingers. She milked
pungent woman waters from the sodden costume.
Whatever the dust he sprayed at her was, it had driven her absolutely mad.
Her cunt was inflamed, and her head was full of images so real that she could
smell and taste and feel every detail. She kept seeing images of her captivity
and torture at the hands of Ms. V. Each step of her enslavement played and
replayed in her head. She could feel the dog collar, too tight around her
throat. She could smell the leather of the boot that she kissed. Another
moment, and the firm curve of Vs arse against her own pursed lips came
back to her. The villains backside was warm in the tight leather, and
spoke back to her with a soft, yielding motion as she planted kiss after
kiss on it.
And she loved it. This is wrong! She said to herself as she watched
the images go by. She remembered raging with anger as Ms. V beat and enslaved
her back then. For some reason, though, now she did not feel it. The rage
was gone, and she felt a bizarre gratitude. She felt the rising heat of her
cunt, and she would swear that she loved that bitch for torturing her.
What had he done to make her remember this?
She remembered the smell of the leather straps that Ms V used to clamp her
down, and it excited her. She remembered the feeling Vs high boot slowly
entering her sex. When it happened for real, she was furious, but now she
gushed with a type of glee she had not known in years. The feeling of that
heel being shoved into her mouth - the taste of her vagina on that heel now
thrilled her.
She remembered Golds captive body, tall and lean. She remembered clamps
on her nipples , her labia, her tongue, and clit, and she crumbled into a
screaming orgasm.
She should have been pursuing a villain, but she was masturbating to the
point of cumming.
It was still ripping through her body, when he looked up at the man who had
reduced her to this. He looked like a fucking scarecrow, tall,pale, and emaciated
in his black clothes, cape, and hat. He didnt have much more girth
than the bloody spear that he carried.
You ...k...killed her? You fucker.... kill
you...
I was good to her, and she nourished me, he said in a creaky
voice.
Bas...
Her cumming reaching its crescendo just as the cruel spike plunged
between her breasts. It pierced her heart, turning her scream into something
blood-curdling, horrifying. With her eyes wide, and her mouth frozen in a
trembling gape, she died.
Again, the womanwave swept from her sopping pussy, and entered him. Tears
came to his eyes as he fed. He felt the passion of any man or women who had
enjoyed Golden Bat throughout her life.
Then he sank to his knees and trembled.
He was still there when he heard the voice from behind.
What are you?
He looked over one shoulder, slowly, to see Gold leaning in the doorway of
the roofs stairwell. Her long limbs seemed slack and weak. Her long,
shapely athletic legs were wobbly, bent, barely holding the voluptuous woman
up. One hand clung to the door frame, the other arm dangled. There was not
a trace of blood on the golden skin.
What are you?
He stood up, his almost-skeletal body seeming to swell with a new hubris.
His new energy surrounded him.
Im from Rakshasa. Im Impaler. I killed
you.
And brought me back.
Yes.
He noticed the tall womans free hand lingering around her pussy. It
was swollen after a night of being used and used and the big, puffy lips
protruded in the golden skin.
I drained you, as I drained her. Dont worry, Im done for
tonight.
He could not help but smile at Golds expression; she was watching Golden
Bat heal. There was a crisp noise - the sharp, crackling sound of sinew and
flesh, muscle and bone knitting itself together. A faint glow surrounded
the shapely twenty-three year old, and her eyes flickered
open.
You see, said Impaler. I give you pleasure, kill you,
drain you, I bring you back and I go. You may want to surrender to Rakshasa
now.
As Gold staggered forward to attack again, he swept his cape Hollywood-villain
style, and vanished. Too weak to even stand, Gold collapsed on all fours
at the booted feet of Golden Bat. She could hear Golden Bat moaning, but
she was too weak to look up. She was even too weak to look up as she heard
the powerful sound of a flying motorcycle circling over
her.
Well, theres my old lady down on her
knees!
Roadmaster.
He was better with bondage now. The first time Roadmaster captured Gold,
he wrapped the chains around her body in a haphazard way. He pulled them
tightly around her big thighs just so he could see the way they squeezed
the feminine muscle. He wrapped her big breasts in chains to watch them come
to peaks. It was more artistry than anything else.
Now he knew what to do. Two shackles held her wrists and forearms tightly
to her sides, pinning them to a metal belt that hugged her waist.Twin cuffs
pinned her legs together at the ankles. She hung from an overhead pipe by
her twisted, tied hair, boots just barely scraping the
floor.
Roadmaster also seemed to take more joy in his brutality. When he took her,
all he did was take her. He could have killed fucked her, killed her, followed
up on the damage done by the Impaler to a woman so weak that she could not
stand. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her body
up against his. Gold would have been able to make short work of her enemy,
if not for the work of the Impaler. The bony man who could kill a heroine
and bring her back had done his craft on her three times that night, and
she was devoid of any sort of fight. As the Roadmasters huge bulge
pressed against her ass, and his hands rode up the firm relief of her body,
she barely had the energy to squirm with revulsion.
I came back for you, old lady, he chuckled. He shook her limp
form, enjoying the motion of her breasts in his palms, and the feel of her
long body. Youre in pretty bad shape. Who was that
dude?
She moaned, her head sagging.
Come on, bitch. He slung her on the back of his cycle, this time
smiling as her head bobbed over and waves of blond hair tumbled. That was
his sexy bimbo right there. And now she had a sweet little college-aged partner.
He rubbed his hands with glee as he did the same to Golden Bat, draping her
slender form over Golds body.
He took them.
Both were still awake during the fly over the city. Golds body hung
in slack arc over the back of the bike, long limbs feeling the rush of air
as they sped away. Though she was a captive of Roadmaster, her mind kept
going back to Rakshasas latest minion.
When she first confronted him that night, she didnt know what to make
of him, a willow-the-wisp figure leaping from rooftop to rooftop. She should
have known, when his face sparked with recognition, he was there to take
her, and that her resistance would be useless.
She ended up fucked and slain over and over, and wondering if those words
that Rakshasa spoke to her were true. Was it futile for her to try to fight
back against him. All she had to do was surrender to him. All she had to
do was accept her enslavement at the hands of Rakshasa.
Reality bled in to her pool of recollection, and she began to ponder Roadmaster.
Like so many villains she had faced, he was a patchwork of drugs and high
technology. His pumped-up body was the result of Vixens super steroids,
and his loud, droning flying bike was the product of his little-boy-genius
mind run amok.
When she was last a captive of Roadmaster, he made it clear what her new
role as a bikers old lady was all about. With a dog collar
around her neck, and a long chrome chain joining her to his fist, she struggled
in vain as he dragged her across the dirty floor of his lair. Across the
room was a waiting animal squeeze cage.
He stopped for a moment to position her on her back, arms and legs still
pinned in chains, and straddle her upper body. Thickly-muscle legs squeezed
in against her, further pinning her, and looked down to see the big, round
breasts mashed together between his denim-clad thighs. Golden breasts captured
by blue jeans.
Slung over the bike, with Golden Bat on top of her, she remembered his almost
shaking with joy as he opened his jeans, and dug out his huge organ. His
lips formed the word tit fuck , and an instant later, he was
pumping between her breasts. He frowned for a moment, noting how the chains
got in the way, then adjusted. Roadmaster thrust forward, and took the position
that had been occupied by Rakshasa, Thorn, Rook and Satyr. He jammed his
cock down her throat. Like the others, he was big, musky, and nearly blocked
her airway. Gold remember gagging, then choking as his spume came in
waves.
She tried to swallow as he pulled out and began slapping her face. Cum dribbled
down her chin, and caught in her throat as her head snapped from side to
side with his blows. It ran out as her rolled her over on her front, and
pulled her backside up to meet him. Only a few moments after cumming in the
statuesque blonds mouth, he was hard and ready again. Now she heard
him say, in voice husky with passion, something about a good fucking
up the ass.
Big, thick fingers reached through the golden gloss of her costume, and spread
the firm cheeks of her ass.
You got a sweet ass for ... what are you? Forty? Does the magic keep
you looking firmer than a teenager?
She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes as her anus began to stretch around
Roadmasters dick.
Gold felt her body preparing to be beaten and ravaged again.
She was only dully aware of the pert, young breasts of Golden Bat pressed
against her back. Their hair twisted together and reached out as blond fingers
in the night sky.
Glassy -eyed, her athletic body slung over Gold like wet laundry. Something
close to panic rose in her chest, then subsided, then rose again, as she
tried to make sense of her night. She had been mind-fucked, killed, brought
back, captured, and whisked away. Gold was more experienced at surviving
this sort of thing, but she was not going to be of any help.
It was once he got them to his garage that he beat them. He strung Gold up
by her hair, only after he laid Golden Bat out on the oil-stained floor.
He spread her legs, and propped her head up against an oil drum so that she
could see the senior superheroine being strung up like a side of meat. Dizzy,
sick, still reeling from sex, death, and resurrection, the younger woman
had no option but to watch.
Roadmaster took his time with Gold, then took his time taking off the thick
leather belt.
Watch what a real man does when his old lady takes off on
him.
The huge biker , in his denim and leather, had claimed Gold as his when they
first met. She escaped, but was now hunted by him. Just like his high-tech
bike and the physique he built with powerful steroids, he felt ownership
of the golden heroine.
Watch what a real man does when on of his blonds runs off on
him.
He cranked back and send the belt crashing into Golds taut buttocks.
The perfectly sculpted body shuddered, the Hollywood face cringed. With her
powers at full, she would be fine. They were not. She was not.
Golden Bat made an effort to move, but could only shift to the side a bit
as Roadmaster moved around the suspended woman, and laid a belting into her
breasts. Golds breasts. Now she screamed, her red mouth forming a perfect
circle.
Hes really letting her have it, huh? came a female voice
from behind.
A woman walked into Golden Bats view. She was also blond, also tall
and lean. Her body did not have the athletic, defined look of Gold and Golden
Bat, but she was an amazon for sure. Long limbs. Full, solid build. Elegant,
lean lines. Bangles clanked and chattered on her wrists, and blue eye shadow
and red lipstick spoke to Golden Bat even when the women was
silent.
She wore only panty hose and high heels.
The woman looked Golden Bat over, took a puff from a her cigarette, and washed
the taste back with her martini. She prodded at the muscular
thigh.
Hey, babe! she called to Roadmaster, not taking her eyes from
the beat young woman. She had to yell over the persistant slapping of the
leather belt against Golds body.
Yeah? he sounded breathless, and tired.
Can I have this little bitch?
Sure, he huffed.
The half-naked woman smiled.