THE PANTY SNATCHER

The illustrations are from another story but more or less relevant. This was maybe to become a longer story. If I get enough enouraging feedback, it could happen; otherwise, enjoy it for what it is. Other stories and pencil artwork are available at my Yahoo Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/DrStrangeBLove/?yguid=168646568

Diana Wilson smiled with pleasure as she left Intimate Notions, the trendiest lingerie store in Metropolis. She loved to shop, but she was usually too busy. The dual life she led-- non-profit dominatrix by day, vigilante by night-- didn't leave her much time for the simple pleasures that ordinary women took for granted. But she had made up for lost time this afternoon, as the three hefty shopping bags she was carrying attested. She marveled at the creativity that designers were putting into fetish clothing these days, and since her work demanded that she be dressed quite literally to kill, she had loaded up her credit card with all the latest items from Darkside and Modus Malefarcum.

It was well after dark, and there was a deep chill in the winter air. She glanced above the towering brick buildings and noted that boiling clouds had obliterated the night sky. The city light reflecting off them gave off a dim florescent glow that partially made up for the street lamps which had been turned off. The tightwad conservative mayor who had just taken office had won the election by promising to cut taxes. The money had to come from somewhere, and night light was a big ticket item.

This was when the city was at its most dangerous. Just after twilight when the night crawlers were coming out, hungry, looking for easy prey. Not that this bothered Diana; she dealt with such sleazebags all the time, being a creature of the night in her own way. But dressed as she was now in her short pleated gold skirt and snug fitting white cashmere vest, she looked more like bait than predator. So she resolved to stay on her toes.

She relaxed her vigilance a bit, though, as she walked up 52nd street, lost in thought, planning for the coming night. She had plenty to mull over. There was a Class A demon in the city. She was sure of it. She could almost smell it. She was pretty sure that she had figured out its pattern. The shrinks at the Terminal Asylum were calling it the Nightmare, because of the effect it had on its victims. The girls, all in their early twenties and all beautiful, were never physically harmed. In fact, there bodies glowed with health. But they were all six completely mad; and so far none had stopped babbling insanely long enough to answer simple questions about what had happened. She had interviewed them herself. It was an obvious case of demon soul snatching, but of course the shrinks didn't see it that way. They were content just to scratch their heads and mumble jargon.

And so it was a job for Domina. The demon invariably struck on Tuesdays sometime after midnight. It made no apparent effort to disguise its pattern. Typical of Class A demon behavior: they operated with complete contempt for the forces of good. Five out of its six known victims had last been seen in expensive singles clubs or worked in lap dance joints, but so far no two from the same place. This had stumped the cops, who always seemed to be one step behind the villain. But Diana was doing some under- cover work on the case, posing as "Penelope Pentax", itinerate lap dancer. Now, she had a hunch where the demon would strike next, and she intended to be there. She would be dressed nice for him. She smiled grimly. Real nice!

Yes. Tonight was Tuesday.

All the working girls in the hot pants joints were whispering nervously about this Thing. They were terrified, although no one had ever seen him. At least not knowingly seen him. But he was out there somewhere, lurking. It made it hard to relax into their work, and their clients were grumbling to management about how up tight they were. Tips were down, business was bad.

Of course Diana herself never had that problem. Even on a slow night she could close a thousand easy in pocket change bringing guys right to the edge. They loved her for it. They showed their appreciation. Of course that kind of money meant nothing to Diana any more. She had graduated out of that league. But it was gratifying to reassure herself that she could still shake a man's wallet clean the hard way.

Anyway, she had concluded that the demon was going to show up tonight at a little strip dive on Perkins called Pussyfinger. Never mind how she figured that out. Actually it was more a hunch than anything else, but Diana's hunches were often right. Anyway, she planned to be there, ready for work, well before the witching hour. Tuesday was a slow night. so she anticipated no trouble persuading the door man to let her in to hustle. If he did give her a hard time, she would just lay a C note on him.

Diana glanced up from her preoccupied thoughts to notice that she had taken a wrong turn. "Oh, bother," she fretted. She had wandered up 52nd all the way into the Waterfront, and now she would have to backtrack. Or cut down Walker, which would lead straight home. Walker Way went right through the heart of the Red Swinger Gang's turf, which for most people wouldn't be a smart way to go at any time of day, let alone after dark. But she was in a hurry to get home and take a bath. And she was-- or anyhow Domina was-- tight with the Turk. So there wouldn't be any trouble.

Confidently, she strode up Walker. The taut muscles of her spectacular behind danced in generous figure eights underneath the soft flouncing pleats of the gold skirt and her all-natural 40DDD breasts made the front of her snug cashmere doublet quiver with every step. As she passed Rook Alley she became aware of invisible eyes following her from the shadows. "Let 'em look," she scoffed under her breath.

She heard the footsteps following her. She shifted the shopping bags to her left hand, freeing her right just in case. She hoped whoever it was would go away, since she was in no mood for trouble at the moment. She had worked out for three hours at World Bod before shopping, and she hadn't had time for a shower. She was funky, and wanted to get home fast to freshen up.

He was getting closer. She picked up her pace, on the chance that he was behind her by coincidence, not following her at all. But he not only sped up, he gained on her. She glanced left and right to see if there was an open store she could duck into for cover, but the nearest was a Dink Mart over a block away. Too far. The street here was deserted. "Great move, Domina baby," she grumbled to herself. "Now you're gonna have to deal with this!"

She began to run, but the four inch heels on her white calfskin boots slowed her down. Suddenly, a shadowy figure stepped out of the doorway of an abandoned building and blocked her way. "Uh oh," she thought. "Another one!"

She stopped, a little out of breath. "Hey you guys," she exclaimed. When excited, her voice was a high pitched and girlish. A little like Marilyn Monroe's, she had been told. "What gives? The Turk doesn't like it when his homeboys mess with his friends."

"Fuck the Turk, bitch"

Something cold and hard and very sharp touched the soft skin under her chin. She froze. A knife! How could she be so stupid? At the same instant, a powerful arm grabbed her around the waist from behind. She could feel a hard, muscular belly pressing up against her backside. Great. The creep already had a boner. This was getting ugly fast. With the knife at her throat and her left arm wrenched behind her back, she didn't think she could get away with one of her martial arts moves just now.

A short blocky figure stood in front of her. Clad in a black ninja costume, hooded so that only two of his red, malevolent eyes showed. Diana shuddered. She recognized it immediately. A Class C demon-- low life but capable of getting very nasty. These were not ordinary creeps.

The demon spat on her white sweater, a big glob of brown phlegm soaking into the expensive fur. Already, she didn't like this slimebag. It raised up on its toes so it was about eye level with her chin. "Turk has nothing to do with this, slut, and he knows better than to get involved with us. Now you keep your cunty little yap shut. One squeak out of you and you are gonna be making a big red mess here on the sidewalk. Understand?"

Diana nodded, very, very carefully, since the blade’s edge was creasing the tender flesh of her throat. Hell!, she thought. As Domina, she could handle this in two minutes. But without a dose of her Power Formula, she was just Diana Wilcox. She couldn’t just kick ass here. She'd have to find some cleverer way out of this. She quickly decided on damsel in distress. It seemed like the right thing under the circumstances.

"Please," she whimpered. "Don't hurt me!" She had learned a long time ago when dealing with this type of demon, it was effective to act terrified and helpless. They loved it. That way, it would be over with quick. And best of all, she wouldn't get cut.

"Shut up, Tits" said the vile C demon, smacking her hard on the ass with the flat of his hand.

"Ouch!" she yelped. He was inhumanly strong. Her ass burned like it had been branded.

“I said shut the FUCK up,” he hissed. An uppercut to Diana’s jaw snapped her head back. Her knees buckled, but the big thug held her up by the elbows. Diana whimpered and tears spilled down her cheeks. But she kept her mouth shut.

They dragged her inside a trashed out vacant building, up two flights of rotting stairs, and into a pitch black windowless room. The little ninja lit a single candle. The dim light revealed her surroundings slowly as her eyes adjusted. The floor was littered with garbage and rags. She shuddered involuntarily as she realized that most of the rags were ripped women's clothing. There were wadded clumps of panties, shredded chemises, a scattering of severed bra cups here and there. She noticed what looked to be a pair of bright blue hot pants that had been sliced open at the crotch. There were also used syringes, broken mirror shards, empty beer bottles, and an old pizza box crawling with maggots. In one corner lay a filthy broken down single mattress, blotched with dark stains that in the candle light might have been blood. Or god knows what.

The short asshole stood in front of her and leaned into her chest. Her big breasts formed a yoke around his neck as he sank into her sweater. His breath was foul, of course. Demon foul. He closed his teeth over her nipple and bit it through the fine cashmere.

She gasped and lurched forward. That hurt, alright. Diana stifled a scream, knowing that the sound of pain would only excite the demon worse.

"Sweet," the creature said, licking his lips. "I wouldn't mind…"

"Cool it, man, no way. You know what He said," growled the giant, still holding her from behind. His voice was foghorn deep. He had a huge chest, she could feel his pectorals almost as big as her breasts cushioning her head. "We do any more to her than collect the specimen, there's no bonus. And you know what He means by that."

"Aw, how would he know?"

"He got his ways. You really wanna risk it for a little ripoff pussy? Hell, you can buy all the cunt you want with your cut."

The short man considered. "Guess you're right. Business before pleasure."

Diana didn't know whether to feel relief or more fear. It sounded like they weren't going to rape her, at any rate. They had something else planned. A specimen? Maybe they were going to draw blood? Why? Who were they working for?

The short one grabbed the hem of her miniskirt and hiked it up over her hips, tucking it into her belt. He palmed her soft flat belly with one hand and cupped her ass with the other. She squirmed indignantly. He ran his fingers over her panties, then got down on his knees in front of her. "Spread your knees, cunt," ordered the muscular fiend restraining her.

It seemed a good idea to go along. The short demon's pudgy fingers pinched the sheer lace fabric at her crotch, yanking it aside, and dipped briefly inside the leg elastic. She shuddered as the demon’s filthy digits probed her loins expertly, almost like a doctor.

""These new?" he asked.

"You mean the…underwear?" she asked. He slapped her thigh with the flat of his hand.

She yelped. "Okay okay, they're new… I just bought them."

"That's a pain," the one holding her said. "Shoulda nabbed her coming outa the gym. Boss said they had to be wet panties. "

"You guys are sick," she observed. So they had been following her since the gym. This was a carefully planned assault.

They chose to ignore her. "We'll have to go to plan B." said big man.

"What's Plan B?" she asked, fearfully.

"Shut the fuck up."

“Funny,” she said. “That sounds just the same as Plan A.” The man slapped her upside the head. Hard.

They shoved her onto the mattress. With gloved hands, they forced her to her knees. The tall one closed his vicelike fingers around the back of her neck and shoved her face down onto the reeking pad. She really didn't like this, but she hadn't seen any opening yet to get away. Now her bottom jutted up in the air, her new underpants so skimpy she might as well have been wearing nothing. "Yuch," she complained. "Stinks!"

"Tough shit, slut. Feel lucky if we don't make you eat the damn thing. Now this'll go a lot easier if you just get into the program, relax."

"What are you going to…?"

A button clicked and a mechanical buzzing sound filled the room. "What the…" she gasped. A vibrator! She couldn't believe this was happening. The Class C demon shoved the thing between her legs, working it up and down over her pussy and ass crack. The vibration turned her firm ass flesh into a quivery blur. She gasped. Intense feeling flooded her pussy. It was like her insides were being churned into water.

At first, she resisted, but that was hopeless. Sometimes her hypersexual nature was a drawback. This was one of those times. The demon handled the diabolical tool with almost surgical skill, and pretty soon she had to move her hips. "That's it whore," sneered her tormenter "It'll be over with fast if you cooperate."

So she did. What the hell. They were not about to pay for the privilege of abusing her like this, so she might as well get into it. She began to gyrate her hips fiercely. Waves of pleasure ignited inside her. She spread her knees wider when her assailant crushed the rubber tip of the machine into the crotch of her panties. Before long the soft, absorbent material had been crammed several inches up inside her.

Her sex juices were really flowing now. The fabric inside her got soaked through and her oils began to leak out and dribble down the insides of her thighs. With humiliation, she realized her spoor was being added to the foul fuck pad. She was just one more trophy in this rape hole. That really ticked her off. How many other women had gone through this ordeal here before her? Now she was moaning out loud, bleating like a sheep.

“Help! Somebody! “ she gasped. “RAPE!”

They didn't even bother to shut her up. Who would interfere here? And despite her cries it didn't exactly sound like a rape. It sounded more like some horny bitch getting her brains fucked out. Diana disappeared into the buzzing torment inside her cunt. At some point, the first orgasm hit, a real barn burner. Her clit convulsed. Her pussy spurted with an audible hiss. A jet of her cum spat out onto the mattress. She almost blacked out. She heard their voices as if disembodied.

"Shit, she pissed herself!"

"You asshole, that ain't piss. She came!"

"I never seen a broad so wet!"

"She's a gusher alright…a screamer,too" the big one chortled. "A bloody diva. One more time now, bimbo."

She felt like crying. They really had her. She couldn't stop herself. How she hated the way her body betrayed her. They flipped her on her back, yanked off her sweater and sliced off her bra. Her breasts flopped out soft and heavy. She seized her big fat nipples and pinched them.The buzzing bitch tamer crammed the panties deeper inside her. Suddenly something gave way and the hard rubber rod stabbed six more inches more inside her. She shrieked and whipped her raven curls back and forth against the cracked plaster wall.

"Damn it," she gasped as the orgasm subsided. "Those panties were brand new!"

"Aw," sneered the fiend as he withdrew the buzzing tool almost all the way out, twisted it like a dagger , and plunged it back into her. It hurt. The second time he did it, it didn’t hurt at all. The third time, she lost it again.

"Oh my gawd!" she gasped. Her eyes buldged as the third orgasm hit. Her back arched off the bed like a drawstring bow, her pussy crammed to the hilt with fuck tool. She shot cum all over the Class C demon’s pants leg.

“The fucking whore slimed me,” it shrieked, jumping back. The big one laughed out loud. Diana slumped back onto the mattress, defeated, unable to control her violent sobs. Suddenly her mouth gaped in in terror.

"No…DON'T…NOT THAT..P-Please N-NOOOO!" she cried as the big man drew the point of the dagger down over her belly.

"Shaddap and don't move or you'll get hurt," She shuddered as the icy steel slid down her hip bone and under the waistband of her panties. He sliced one side, then the other. Then he took a plastic baggie out of his pocket and, with a gloved hand, eased the soaking rag out of her cunt as if he were extracting some delicate botanical specimen. He dropped it inside the baggie. As he thumbed the panties through the plastic, an ounce of Diana’s pussy juices squeezed out and sloshed inside the packet. Then he zipped it shut, and stuffed it in his front pocket.

"We could do her now," said the short fat one, hopefully. Diana's heart skipped a beat.

"Please…" she whimpered.

"Yeah we could but we ain't gonna," answered the big one. It was clear who was boss. "You want some of this bitch's snatch, you come get it on your own time and don't come crawlin' to me if you get nabbed doing it. This one is trouble. I can smell it on her."

"But Deke.." protested the little guy. His partner sent him flying with a powerful backhand.

"Shut the fuck up, man," said Deke, visibly upset that his companion had let slip his name. Diana would never forget him now, ninja getup or no. Nor would she forget the little fat one. Domina would track them down. There would be an accounting. Still trembling from the forced climaxes, she sat up and tugged at her dress to regain a thin veneer of modesty. She crossed her arms over her naked breasts, pushing them together but not gaining much dignity therby. The muscle man squatted in front of her.

"Now you listen. Listen good. You are a good little girl, right?"

She nodded, playing the scared victim to the hilt.

"That's real nice." He leaned down close, getting right in her face. He had perfect straight teeth and ice blue eyes. A slight accent, maybe eastern European. "Now you do exactly as I tell you, and nothing more has to come of this, understand? Nod yes."

She did, though she didn't.

"This never happened, " he said with quiet menace. "You don't go to the cops, you don't tell a soul, not even your own mama. After we go, you count to a thousand real slow before you leave this room. You can count that high, can't you?"

She nodded mutely, her eyes as big as wet blue marbles. To her great annoyance, another tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. He caught it gently with a finger and then brought the finger to his lips and licked, his eyes never releasing hers.

"Just in case you are tempted to rush the count keep in mind that I have a couple of boys watching outside and if you come out a second too soon, I'll hear about it. Next time won't go down so touchy feely and nicy nicey, get my drift?”

Diana did.

"It's been a pleasure, whore," he said. He started to rise, but then paused as if he had got a new idea. Before she could shrink from him, he seized her head two handed and forced his mouth into hers. She fought the impulse to bite him. She never let a strange male kiss her. But this was no time to stand on principal. So she bore this new humiliation stoically and let his tongue worked inside her mouth, and as he Frenched her, she found that she was getting kind of turned on by it, well not really, but…and so she sucked on his tongue as if it were a cock and even flicked her own tongue against his teeth once or twice. Well that was how he told it later at the bar, anyway.

“Shit, man, “ shissrd the Class C demon resentfully.

“Shut the fuck up.”

And they went off with her shopping bags. All three of them! Almost a thousand bucks worth of state-of -the art dominatrix costumes. She started to protest, but Deke just shot her a look and she piped down, seething. Then they were gone. She began to count, very slowly indeed, as she put back on her soiled sweater, minus the severed bra. She groaned as she realized they hadn't even left her a pair of panties. The Bastards! Now she would have to walk the way home with nothing on underneath her micro mini. The satanic sleaze bags!

And perverts, too. Panty poachers. How pathetic. Why would they go to all that trouble just to get a pair of her dirty underpants? And to rip off her costumes. Who was the Boss they were referring to? She didn't like the sound of it. She didn't like it one bit.