by
marat
Chapter Three
Lynn Simms slumped in her chair.
Behind her, the computer monitor glowed in the darkness of her office space,
set aside in one of the bedrooms of Karens apartment. She had stared
into that hard luminosity for two hours, seeking any information about Crimson
Flares whereabouts; she met only with failure. It was as if the earth
had swallowed up the heroine.
Her blonde hair had been tied
into a ponytail to keep it out of her face while she worked, but the shorter
strands had an hour ago been loosed from the binding and now hung down over
her blue-grey eyes. Lynn stared out through the windows of Karens
apartment, off to the southwest where flashes of lightning announced a coming
storm. The red dawn visible in the clear skies over Mitropoulos and to the
east would soon be swallowed up by the heavy thunderheads seen in the
distance.
Where could she have gone? Lynn
kept asking herself. Crimson Flare had left the apartment only a few hours
ago to pay off the blackmailers who had found videos of the torture and
humiliation of the heroine. She was to go to Centre Park, to a copse of trees,
and deliver the payment. It was all a ruse, of course. Crimson Flare would
never submit to blackmail. But this was an opportunity to catch the criminals
red-handed.
There had been a brief telephone
conversation before she had entered the park. The place had looked entirely
deserted. But the Maiden of Mitropoulos had sounded optimistic about this
episode ending quickly with the capture of a couple of would-be criminals
who got in over their heads.
But since then, there had only
been silence.
Three hours.
To hell with this!
Lynn said. She stood up and made her way toward the door. She had to get
to the park. If she could see where Crimson Flare had gone, maybe she could
find some evidence of what had happened to her friend.
*****
Lynns blue van pulled into
a parking space on Mitropoulos famous Monroe Avenue. Across the wide
sidewalk stood the poured concrete barrier, shaped like a series of Ionic
columns that protected the edge of Centre Park. Beyond the barrier was the
dark green open expanse of the Meadows. And a quarter mile beyond that, barely
visible at this distance, was the stand of trees and shrubbery where the
drop was to have been made.
Lynn stepped from the van. There
was no one in sight. At this hour, even a city the size of Mitropoulos was
only awakening from its sleep.
Well, it was mostly asleep. In
the distance a police siren sounded.
She followed the sidewalk to
an entrance where a wide stairway dropped down into the esplanade. A bike
path and a walkway led toward the thicket probably more than a half-mile
distant, if one followed either path, a quarter-mile, if one walked directly
across the lawn. As she quickly walked the ground leading toward the trees,
her ankle boots crunched on the gravel of the hikers
trail.
The small stones crushed beneath
her soles were much too loud in the still air. Distant thunder rumbled announcing
the coming storm. Lynn broke into a trot, hurrying her way toward the trees,
worrying, a little, about getting caught in the shower.
By the time she got to the grove,
the wind had kicked up, shaking the greenery noisily. The lithe blonde moved
to her left, looking for an entry into the coppice. Eventually, having failed
to find anything, she simply plunged into the blowing stand of
trees.
It was dark there. Behind her
she could still see the lights illuminating the street, far distant, and
the landscaped parkland. But here, beneath the canopy, it was much darker,
an eerie darkness that sent a chill up her spine, a chill amplified by the
cool breeze now whipping across the open space of Centre Park.
The cold front just passed right
across me, Lynn thought to herself. She plunged deeper into the
trees.
About twenty yards from the edge
of the park she saw a clearing in the midst of the grove. Rushing into the
open space, she noticed how utterly quiet the area was. That is, until she
stopped her frantic rush, and brought her panicked breathing under
control.
MMMMmmmmmpppphhhh!
MMMMMMmmmmmmmmmppppppphhhhhh!!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!
Off to her right, hidden by a
single-standing spruce, someone was offering muffled cries. Even in the dim
light, Lynn quickly recognised the figure and uniform of Officer Maria
Blakeman.
The svelte blonde college student
quickly covered the distance to the evergreen and, in a single motion, pulled,
not exactly gently, the tape from the policewomans
mouth.
Maria tried to expel a piece
of cloth from between her jaws, but dry mouth prevented her. Now acting
delicately, Lynn turned the uniformed figure onto her side, and plucked out
the fabric, tossing it aside with disgust.
Maria breathed in deeply while
Lynn went to work on the ropes securing her wrists. Thank god you finally
came, Lynn, she said finally, her voice raspy.
Wheres Ka-,
er, Crimson Flare? Lynn was in no mood for small
talk.
I dont know. I was
unconscious, drugged. When I came to, I was alone. The only thing I can figure
is that she was captured by the same men who grabbed
me.
Did you hear anything?
Do you know where she is?
I didnt see
anything, Maria said softly as Lynn freed her hands. But I do
know that Fareed Gouyannou is behind this.
Lynns jaw dropped. Gouyannou!
She and Crimson Flare had thought this was the work of a couple of cops trying
to make a score. This made Crimson Flares disappearance all the more
dangerous. She had difficulty breathing for a moment. Are are
you sure its Gouyannou?
Before I was knocked out,
I heard one of the men mention him. You usually dont drop his name
unless
Yeah, I
know.
As Lynn freed Marias hands,
she stood straight up. Maria quickly began to undo the ropes around her ankles.
Meanwhile, Lynn stared into the distance, feeling more helpless than she
had ever felt in her life. Her vision clouded and tears ran down her
cheeks.
*****
Fareed Gouyannou watched
appreciatively as Dr. Callahan prepared the second injection. Crimson Flare
lay helpless on the floor, her wrists now freed from their bonds. As he gazed
at the powerless woman, he could feel himself salivating at the defeat of
Mitropoulos Masked Maiden.
Her arms now lay by her sides,
their great strength no longer contained by the ropes. Crimson Flares
mind had no awareness of the fact that she now possessed the great strength
she needed to free herself from her captors. That mind had, in fact, been
seized by a single desire: the desire for sex. Unconsciously, her hips rotated
and pressed down upon an imaginary lovers prick, which she felt had
penetrated deep inside her.
And yet, she felt no satisfaction.
The emptiness of the act confused the hapless girl. She saw her lover, in
her minds eye, emerge from shadows surrounding her, glistening sweat
covering his naked body, his powerful, taut muscles hovering above and just
beyond contact with her own aching, sensing body. Her eyelids fluttered and
she tried to peer into the darkness to see his concealed face, a face she
expected to embody her dreams and desires. She tried to raise her arms to
embrace that form, that hovering form, but the instant she did so, he seemed
to disappear from her view, only to return as she dropped her arms helplessly
to the floor.
Jan
Leathers maneuvered his body to untie the ropes at her ankles, a task made
more difficult by the hard-on brought on by his stimulation of the girl.
But he removed the bonds with surprising ease. He watched as her hips circled
slowly, provocatively, the sweet-smelling scent of her musk filling his nostrils.
He felt a shudder pass across her naked torso as he released her booted ankles
and he sat up, prepared for Gouyannous next command.
Dr. Callahan was busily injecting
the first dose of the heroin concoction into Crimson Flares bared arm.
As he removed the needle, he placed a small cotton swab over the puncture.
Now, sir, he said softly to Leathers, you must penetrate
her. Callahan understood that the climax forced from the heroine would
fix the identification of sexual gratification with the warmth of the drug
cocktail. The desire created by the aphrodisiac was to be sated temporarily,
only to be reinvigorated by a new injection of the love potion, which would
alternate with the heroin mixture. Her strength would permit Crimson Flare
to endure injection after injection of both drugs without real danger of
loss of life. Each set of injections would be accompanied by a male suitor
who would penetrate her and bring her to climax.
Jan Leathers looked from the
kind doctors face toward his boss. Gouyannou gave him only the smallest
of nods.
Crimson Flares breathing
became shallower and more ragged as Leathers gently placed her body fully
on the polished wooden floor. Her masked face swung slowly from side to side,
as if she were trying to vainly clear her vision. She moaned softly.
Oooooooohhhhhh, god, she barely whispered.
OOOoooohhhhh, god, p-plea-sse. Fffffuuck me! P-p-plleeaassse, I
I n-neeed a
a f-f-fuck! The thug stood up and dropped his
pants as quickly as his fumbling fingers permitted.
The girl moaned again weakly,
the great strength in her body fighting the triple threat of Leathers
earlier stimulation of her sexual appetite, the powerful aphrodisiac still
coursing through her veins, and the newly-introduced drug cocktail. Behind
her glistening black mask, her eyelids fluttered, and Leathers saw that her
eyes were completely unfocused. He did not know that she saw only the grey
cloud enveloping her dark lover, mysterious and powerful, as powerful as
she. In the brightly lit ballroom, though no one heard the Masked Maidens
whispered pleadings except him, all could see her
helplessness.
Leathers took hold of the famous
uniform and pulled it unceremoniously from the heroine, exposing her to the
crowd. He could hear the smiles forming on the faces of the men who watched,
but it was the chorus of womens voices that was audible across the
ballroom. The heroines last defense had been removed and she now lay
naked to her enemies. Many of the ladies present turned away, fearful of
seeing what was to follow. He next grabbed the colourless tights and viciously
tore them away from her hips and nether regions, the tatters still visible
on her gloriously shaped legs. As Leathers, Gouyannou, Sealing, and all the
others gathered in the ballroom stared at her now-exposed sex, the large
man clearly saw the dampness formed on the short, dark hair at her entrance,
and a dribble of the syrupy honey ooze from her, rolling languorously down
her smooth flesh toward the floor.
Spreading her legs a little wider,
he placed his already engorged prick at the entrance to the helpless Champion
of Women. All across the ballroom, the ladies of the evening who had been
the guests of Gouyannous employees audibly choked back gasps and cries
as they watched the first rape of Crimson Flare.
Ominously, distant thunder rolled
into the room.
*****
Maria and Lynn walked quickly
back toward Lynns van, raindrops beginning to fall heavily on the sidewalk.
Although Maria ran to get out of the storm, Lynn walked dazedly toward the
vehicle.
The two had covered the quarter
mile from the stand of trees quickly, avoiding the parks pathways,
but neither had spoken. Maria, however, had seemed concerned about getting
shelter from the storm, while Lynn seemed utterly uninterested in anything
around her. Her mind raced, filled with innumerable questions, but all stemming
from the same point: Crimson Flare was the prisoner of Fareed
Gouyannou.
She climbed into the drivers
seat and sat staring out the windscreen. Lynn seemed to be barely breathing,
when, all of a sudden, she collapsed, in tears, onto the steering
wheel.
Jesus
Christ,
she wailed. Jesus Christ, she shouted again, what
the hell am I supposed to do now? Tears poured down her
face.
*****
Her small breasts were as hard
as marble, the nipples perfectly erect. Her back was arched almost to a
ninety-degree angle as her hips slid up and down on Leathers erection.
The perfect thighs clung to his hips as he knelt on the floor, while the
black-booted calves pressed brightly polished black leather hard against
his backside. The thugs powerful arms supported her sweating, naked
back above the wooden floor at a point just above her naked, perfectly formed
ass. The vaulting curve of her back placed her cowled head mere inches from
the polished wood on which the couple were locked in this embrace. Behind
the glistening black mask, her eyes were closed, her face covered with beads
of sweat. Her mouth was open, though she was now silent, the pleasure of
the penetration sending waves of ecstasy to the very core of her being. Her
gloved hands held tightly to those strong arms, and her hips stroked him
strongly, up and down, up and down, desperately seeking fulfillment. Each
time she plunged, the tip of his penis penetrated deeper into her, creating
sensations of delight all through the lovely masked maid. Rivulets of sweat
rolled down her chest onto those perfectly shaped mounds, from there curving
toward her sides where her ribs were clearly visible pressing against her
flawless flesh.
The only sound in the room was
the agitated breathing of the two who were coupled in this dance. Even the
pending storm seemed awed into silence. The crowd of onlookers, including
Fareed Gouyannou and Officer Bruce Sealing, stared, transfixed, almost
unbelieving. For the principals themselves, it was as if they were only now
discovering the heights of bliss that could be scaled in the act of sex.
For Jan leathers, his prick felt as if it would not gush forth with his seed,
but rather was on the verge of rupturing, the pain-pleasure carried all the
way from its tip to his spine.
For Crimson Flare, who happily
pushed herself down onto that hardened organ, she only sought to drive him
deeper, deeper into her to satisfy the desire that now enveloped her whole
being. In her minds eye she continued to seek out the dark and handsome
man of mystery who had conquered her. She could not yet see him, but she
did feel him inside her, reaching up from her entrance into her
womb.
MMMMmmmmmmnnnnnnnnnn!!
Guh!! Oohh! OOOhhh!!
OOOoooHHHhhh!!!
Her rapture became audible.
His voice joined hers in a fugue
of desire, frenzy, and bliss. NNNNNnnnnnngggggggggg!!
Uuhhhlll! Ah! AAAhhhkkk!!
AAAaaaHHHhhhKKKkkk!!!
The Champion of Women felt the
hard muscles of his body. She looked deeply into her mind to see the face
of this conqueror, and each time she sought the details of this powerful
lover, clouds snatched away his countenance, leaving only an intimation,
a hint of the nature of this desired mate.
UUUUgggggghhhhhhhhaaaaaggghhhhhh!! she screamed, raising her body upright.
Then she wrapped her powerful arms around his chest, pushing herself against
him, so that the sweat on their bodies mingled. The sweet smell of love that
rose to her nostrils only served to further stimulate
her.
Leathers licked the sweat from
her neck, then nibbled on the spot where he had done so. A droplet of
perspiration rolled from the back of her head down against his lip; it was
blocked there, but then he gaped open his mouth to receive the globule. His
tongue traced its path upward toward the tight-fitting cowl that helped to
protect the identity of Mitropoulos Avenger. His progress blocked now
by the shining leather, he reached one hand up to the hood, easily pulling
it from the heroines head. Underneath, her short, dark brown hair was
askew and soaked with sweat, which now rolled freely down the sides of her
face and across her glistening mask. Meanwhile, the mans tongue searched
for her ear and, finding it, penetrated deep into its interior; at the same
time, he nibbled at the lobe, his stubble brushing seductively against the
soft skin of her neck.
As he did this, she pressed herself
even more tightly against his manhood, seeking to drive him further into
her body. When this failed, a moan of such forlorn sensuality passed through
her lips that all who heard it were freshly stimulated. Leathers slid his
hands up her sweat-soaked back. Then, bending his elbows beneath and behind
her shoulders, he brought his hands forward from behind her, allowing them
to wrap themselves across her face. The little and ring fingers of both hands
lay on top of the brilliantly shining black mask.
Do not remove her mask,
Fareed Gouyannou cautioned.
Jan Leathers was not about to
do any such thing. The secrecy of his victims identity was too great
a prizeand too significant as a turn-on right nowto wish to lose
it. The softness of her flesh under his ministrations, the delicacy of her
own gently moving hands across his back, the mystery offered by the mask
concealing her features, the sense of her vulnerability conveyed by the costume
and delicacy of this diminutive heroine, and the sensation of the leather
boots against the small of his back, even the latent power he felt coursing
through her arms as they pressed against his back: all these things contributed
to Leathers enormous and raging erection, the greatest sensation of
pleasure-pain he had ever experienced. His wildly pounding heart, the sweat
pouring down his face and torso, his effort to penetrate as far into this
remarkable Champion of Women as he was able: this was the evidence of the
completeness of his sexual and sensual arousal. Never had he felt so enraptured
as at this moment.
Bruce Sealing watched in amazement,
as the pairing seemed to become one creature. The slow rolling of the single
body that was the two conjoined lovers, the symbiotic rising and falling,
the twisting and turning of this entity that had been created from these
individuals served to draw his awe
and his anger. He had given Gouyannou
the secret to capturing Crimson Flare to see her destroyed, to have her become
what the police always knew she was: a slut working against law and order.
Yet, here she was, giving voice to ecstasies he had never experienced, or
even was aware of. His purpose had been to torture the cunt. Not
this!
Mr. Gouyannou, sir,
he said quietly, approaching the short, dark man from the
crowd.
Yes, my boy, the
drug kingpin said cheerfully. What is it? The two stepped away
from the centre of the room. To most observers, they appeared to be discussing
a most secret affair.
Well, uh, sir, you see,
uh, he stammered.
Gouyannou wasnt angry when
he urged Sealing to speak his mind. Come, come, what is it? You know
you have my good will.
Oh, yes, sir, I certainly
am aware of that. But arent you going to destroy her, like you said
you would? I mean, we agreed that both the police and your organisation wanted
her out of the way. I dont see how
.
Fareed Gouyannou laughed.
Surely, you understand that the ultimate goal hasnt changed,
dont you? He continued chuckling. The destruction of Crimson
Flare will happen in any event. We each have our own idea about how we should
attain our goal. You, Mr. Policeman, would prefer the direct route.
He smiled at his newest employee.
That is good, and the way
you understand the world. For a policeman, things are always black and white,
no pun intended. The words flowed freely in his accented English.
But for me, and in our organisation Sealing was pleased
with the use of ourevery opportunity such as this
must serve as a lesson to others. Men are ruled by the appearance of
things, Louis XIV said. Here he indicated the defeated
heroine, we have our greatest enemy. It will not be enough to defeat
her, for a mere defeat would not linger in the imagination. She must be
disgraced, humiliated. He smiled.
Humbled.
The policeman turned to look
at the Masked Maiden of Mitropoulos. She was now laying on her back. Her
uniform was gone, lying several feet from her. Her colourless tights had
been torn from her, the tatters of that violent act visible just above her
boots. Jan Leathers had just spent himself and was withdrawing from her.
The utter exhaustion on his face spoke volumes about his experience. He was
still on his knees, but most of his weight was now on his arms, which straddled
his victim. Those who saw the scene from the proper angle saw his surplus
seed dripping from the girl, rolling slowly toward the
floor.
Gouyannou nodded toward Dr. Callahan.
Immediately, the healing hands dipped into his medical bag and he prepared
his next series of injections for the heroine. In a moment, the first of
the two needles had pierced her, and the aphrodisiacs power over the
helpless heroine was redoubled. The second injection, finding the same vulnerable
spot in a vein, quickly followed.
Would you like to experience
Americas Darling? Gouyannou asked Sealing.
In a matter of moments, a naked
Bruce Sealing had impaled the hapless avenger.
*****
Crimson Flare could feel nothing.
Or perhaps, more accurately, her sensibilities were overwhelmed by a single
sensation. It might be called desire, but that word would imply
a singularity of focus. In fact, Gouyannou and Callahans plot did not
allow the hapless girl to isolate such an exclusive yearning. Their purpose
required that her mind would be unmoored from any semblance of stability,
and forced to confront separately waves of stimuli. Each would seize control
of her, only to be overwhelmed by a new sensation as soon as it did
so.
It could be termed
longing, for Crimson Flare had had experience with this sensation
in the past. The days in the abandoned subway station, in the power of the
Normans and of Cos. Now reawakened in her sensual memory, these feelings
rushed to overwhelm her: the warmth and comfort of a drug-induced haze, blocking
out the harsh reality of the world; the strong embrace of a man, protecting
her from those who would do her harm; the frenzy of sexual passion, which
flooded her being with but one demand, a demand that she be penetrated and
satisfied.
However, the Maid of Mitropoulos
could not be satisfied. The superhuman lust she felt could not be quenched
by mere men, however driven those men might be to surfeit their victim. With
each renewal of Dr. Callahans bill of fare, the heroines demands
would escalate, and the capacities of a mere mortal would fall further and
further short of her requirements. Each penetration, however large the manhood
of her attacker, would be insufficient. Regardless of the rapists ability
to sustain his erection, Crimson Flare, whose orgasms were both manifold
and extravagant, felt empty and unfulfilled. Only the dark, mysterious stranger
of her imagination would be able to meet her expectations. Why, she wanted
to know, did he not oblige her?
She felt his arms on her. Powerful
muscles stretched tight beneath his rough skin. His unshaven face rubbed
against her own silken neck, his stubble adding a staccato to the swelling
harmony of their embrace. He knew all the ways to seduce a woman: his hands
showed a familiarity with her anatomy, innately knowing the places where
her response would be heightened because of her heightened sensitivity. Sometimes
tender, sometimes agitated, he moved knowledgably from one hypersensitive
locus to the next, the progress raising the increasingly helpless Champion
of Women to a higher and higher plane of exaltation. Why would he hold her
but refuse to satisfy her cravings?
Those cravings were heightened
by the drug-induced image of the hero who embraced her, the hero who had
rendered her powerless. Through their influence, she saw more details of
this man, though his face continued to elude her. She saw the muscular arms
and the powerful chest, powerful enough to challenge even Crimson Flares
strength. As his massive limbs pulled her body to him, she felt her own strength
slip away, and she felt a weakness wash over her body. She lifted her legs
to encircle his hips and she pushed herself toward his massive prick, which
she could clearly see through the haze that encompassed the lovers. But he
denied her. The sensation of the penetration did not match her expectation.
It was not his! And the masked Maiden, the emptiness of the experience
seizing her, groaned. She groaned her dismay again and again, and still she
sought the hero.
Crimson Flare was able to find
him, for he did not hide from her. She saw his form moving through the fog,
and she heard him. Through the smoky whirl surrounding them she heard his
laughter, like a hundred voices laughing at once. Come
back
she whispered huskily. He only laughed
louder.
The avenger reached out and felt
him. His powerful legs were directly in front of her. She could see them,
the rippling muscles of his thighs and calves naked before her. Her gloved
hands brushed gently against the sturdy, upright limbs. Even with so light
a touch, she could feel the latent power in him. She pulled herself toward
him and pressed her face against the sweaty flesh of his legs. As she did
so, she felt the familiar warmth rush over her again, the warmth that seemed
to be coursing through her body, but which was obviously radiating from him.
She felt it every time she came near him. The masked Maiden licked the
perspiration rolling down the thighs and pressed herself closer to him. If
only he would impale her on his mammoth cock. Then, she was sure, she would
achieve the satisfaction she so desperately desired. Her hands reached up
between his legs, tenderly searching for his balls, rubbing the backs of
both hands against the underside of his scrotum. There, before her eyes,
she saw his manhood emerge, as large as she had imagined it to be. Rigid,
elevated, it stood there, inviting her. Americas Darling reached up
with her tongue and licked his member, beginning at the root and running
the entire length of the shaft, inviting him to enter her. As she did so,
she gazed upward, almost desperately now trying to discern some part of his
features, a countenance she imagined to be of godlike beauty and
perfection.
*****
Nick Napolitano, one of
Gouyannous heavy lifters, could not believe what Crimson
Flare was doing to him. All his life, he had been laughed at for his squat,
hunchbacked posture, and yet, now, here was Crimson Flare, the object of
so many of his fantasies, licking at his mean little prick. The laughter
that had so often been directed at him, in part because of his looks, in
part because of his intellector lack of itrolled across the ballroom,
but this time it was not directed at him. It was the Maid of Mitropoulos
who was the object of the uproar. The play of her gloved hands against his
package sent chills running uncontrollably up and down his spine. He raised
up on his toes and arched his back in an effort to contain his
exhilaration.
Love
me...
he heard her whisper. Her voice was of such a sensual sweetness, such as
he had not heard in many yearsa woman speaking to him as a lover, not
as a whorethat once again he felt a tingle rush through him, beginning
at his crotch and spreading outward with a speed he had never
experienced.
Oh, god, she was licking his
cock! Oh, god!! Nick
had never experienced anything so sensual! The smooth lapping of his manhood
by this woman, this heroine, naked before him, was more than he could
take.
He ejaculated into her
face.
*****
Crimson Flare, naked except for
her mask, gloves, boots, and holster, still containing her baton, had knelt
abjectly before one male after another. And one after another, all five that
Gouyannou had summoned had penetrated her, each time using the most available
orifice. Her perfectly shaped ass was encrusted with cum, and the excess
that still rolled from inside her passed across a crusty orgasmic mixture,
formed of her own making, as well as that of her partners, now flaking from
the insides of her flawless thighs.
Napolitano, the sixth in the
line, had been intended as comedy relief. The others had been high-ranking
figures in the criminal world, but when the kingpin had summoned a mere thug,
it demonstrated that soon Crimson Flare would be open to all comers. Each
had been preceded by Dr. Callahans potions. Each supplement had increased
the haze surrounding the helpless girl. As each of the crime worlds
leaders had penetrated the now-defeated crimefighter, cunt and ass, the audience
was less in awe and more given to the revelry that Gouyannou sought. He wanted
to shatter the myth of Crimson Flare, to destroy her mystique in the minds
of his underlings, so that she would never again represent anything more
to them than she did on this night.
That was why Napolitano was to
be the climax, so to speak. Mitropoulos drug lord smiled as he thought
of it. Crimson Flare, Americas Darling, the Champion of Women, Defender
of Mitropoulos, reduced to providing enjoyment to the least of Gouyannous
men. Napolitano had never been with a woman he hadnt paid for. The
sight of his clumsy efforts, peaking in his penetration, would be the end
of her.
But this was even better than
he had anticipated. To have the powerful heroine submissively on her knees
before Napolitano, stripped of her uniform and her glory, desperately trying
to get her luscious red lips around his prick
licking the entire five
inches and seeking to embrace him
. This would be a night for all to
remember.
The mens raucous laughter
rang out everywhere in the ballroom. It even overwhelmed the rising storm
outside, which rattled the French doors with its fury. The women had been
silenced, their prayers unanswered. The men, previously dumbfounded by the
awe that surrounded the heroine, now voiced their disdain for Crimson Flare:
Crimson Flare had become their bitch.
When Nick Napolitano suddenly
came, streams of fluid spurting into the face and onto the shoulders and
chest of the defeated Champion, the ballroom sounded more like a sports stadium
than a gangland conventicle.
Gouyannou couldnt have
been more pleased.
*****
Crimson Flares mind begged
for satisfaction. As she gripped the mammoth prick in her hands, licking
the tip, her mind told her to stand in order to impale herself on the monstrous
entity. But the warmth she felt radiating from the body of her hero
wouldnt allow her to separate herself from him. She needed to press
her face and body against the warm hard limbs. It was somehow comforting.
All that she wanted was to have that glow continue to permeate her being.
The flame of his presence heated her and made her feel secure in this fog
that surrounded her. His laughter reassured her that all was safe. Besides,
as she gripped his manhood, she felt the surging in him. She wasnt
about to release that. But the frustration of her own desire still nagged
at her.
Oh, god, he was
cumming. I must save
it, she thought. This is meant to be mine, its meant for only me!
It must be preserved!
She pressed her body against
his legs, in order not to lose the contact that was so important to her safety,
and, with her satin-gloved hands, she pushed her lovers seed into her.
She opened her mouth and swabbed her face, enjoying the taste of his manhood.
Then, seating herself and leaning back, she pushed and scooped the deposits
on her chest toward her anxiously-awaiting sex.
End of Chapter
Three
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome:
contact the author at
marat1793@comcast.net
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