The Adventures of Star Eagle

Chapter 5 Slave

Morning came all too soon. Star Eagle had spent the night in fearful anticipation of what awaited her. By morning the zentoc had once again worn off, allowing her strength to return and healing her battered body, but bringing with it the terrible anguish of zentoc withdrawal. By the time Kemper swung the cell door open she was pounding on it frantically, and screaming at the top of her lungs.

He quieted her with two squares of zentoc and then went through the same ritual as on the previous day, having her clean herself and treating her to a lavish breakfast. Then fastening a steel collar and chain to her neck he led her from the room and up to his office.

Waiting there was a tall, handsome man in his forties. Star Eagle recognized him at once from the pictures she had seen on her crime link on Karla’s computer. It was Dmitri Vlasov, the most feared member of the Russian mafia living in Grand Centre.

“So,” the Russian said, “this is the superheroine that caused me so much trouble. His eyes drank in her naked body. “I see you have been ‘entertaining’ her. Where is her costume?”

“Here,” said Kemper, touching her medallion. “You just apply pressure here.” He pushed a tiny stud on the medallion, and the uniform flowed forth, covering her body almost instantly.

“Ah!” exclaimed the Russian. “Talk about a quick change! I wonder if the device is capable of being analyzed. It would be worth a fortune.”

“I don’t know,” replied Kemper. I had a look at it, but it seems unbreakable. I couldn’t open it even hitting it with a sledge.”

“Perhaps I will find a way,” Vlasov replied. “I will take her now.” He slammed a briefcase down on Kemper’s desk. “Ten million. Count it if you please.” Star Eagle noted that his accent was very similar to Karla’s, but his grammar was better.

Kemper popped open the briefcase revealing row after row of thousand dollar bills. He whistled. “I think I will count it if you don’t mind, just in case you miscounted.”

“Go ahead,” Vlasov replied. “And while you do you can tell me about her.”

“Easy enough,” said Kemper, beginning to thumbs through the bills. “She’s a very dangerous package, but a little of this, and she is as weak as a kitten.”

“Chocolate?” Vlasov said incredulously. “You must be joking.”

“No shit,” said Kemper. “Funny ain’t it? I knew some women preferred chocolate to sex, but this one prefers it to anything. By the way, she calls it zentoc. Hold back on it and she will be begging for it. Tell you what, keep her here another half hour and see what happens.”

“If you say so. You got any vodka?”

Listening to the two villains talk about her as if she was not even there was almost as humiliating as being stripped naked and being led on a chain like a dog, but Star Eagle could not think of anything to say. What Kemper had told Vlasov was true. She was helpless and the zentoc kept her that way. Soon she would be in the power of a man reputed to be the most brutal of Grand Centre’s crime bosses. She stood with eyes downcast, focused on the floor. Her strength was slowly returning, but as it did the craving for zentoc increased. After her long night with only the three squares to tide her over, the two she had been given were already wearing off, but she did not want to degrade herself further by groveling for the drug in front of her new master.

She held out as long as she could, but even before she opened her mouth, her uncontrollable hunger for the drug became apparent. Leaning on Kemper’s desk, she doubled over as severe cramps ripped through her guts. This was soon followed by the panting and the sweating as the craving once more took over her body.

Vlasov watched. “Looks like you were right, Kemper,” he said. “You sure it’s not heroin she wants?”

“Trust me,” Kemper answered. “Chocolate is cheaper.”

Vlasov opened the box of baker’s chocolate. Star Eagle’s eyes went as wide as saucers as the delightful aroma of pure zentoc wafted through the air. “This what you want?” he asked waving the box at her.

Star Eagle could hold back no longer. “Yes, please,” she answered, her lips quivering and her eyes fixed on the zentoc.

“Incredible,” Vlasov said. “You’re right. I’ll take her now.”

“Please,” Star Eagle said again. “The zentoc.”

“One square,” said the Russian, snapping off a piece. “I wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable.”

Star Eagle swallowed the square of chocolate without tasting it and was immediately immersed in the tide of pleasure that always accompanied it. Vlasov tugged on the leash and led her from the building.

It was a long drive from Kemper’s warehouse to Vlasov’s country estate and Vlasov had to supply the pleading heroine with several more squares while they traveled. Vlasov studied the heroine as her moods shifted back and forth between drugged complacency to anguished withdrawal. By the time the limousine pulled into his underground garage he had devised several interesting ways of testing her. “Take her to the new bedroom,” he ordered.

Star Eagle did not like the way Vlasov said “bedroom.” He made it sound like something else altogether. It turned out that her assessment was correct.

The “bedroom” was a Spartan concrete chamber, containing a king-sized bed and a variety of chains and other apparatus hanging from exposed ceiling beams. She shuddered as she entered. Kemper had improvised in his torture of her; Vlasov had prepared a specialized torture chamber. There was one bit of apparatus in the room that especially bothered her and that was a propane torch. She could only imagine what that might be used for.

Vlasov did not keep her waiting long. He arrived a few minutes later accompanied by two of his henchmen. He stood arrogantly in the doorway and surveyed his prize. “Well my little zaychik moy,” he said, finally. “From now on I am your master and that is what you will call me. Understood?” He slapped a whip in his hand as he spoke.

For the first time Star Eagle addressed her new master and she did not reply in the way he had hoped. “No one is my master,” she said, defiantly, “least of all a man who enslaves and degrades women.” In spite of her longing for zentoc she drew herself up proudly and looked him in the eye.

“You surprise me, milaya moya,” Vlasov replied, a cruel smile flickering over his lips. “I thought you broken. “But I see you still have fight in you. So much the better. I will enjoy the challenge of breaking your will.”

“You will never break me,” Star Eagle cried. “You can humiliate me, and torture, me, and have your way with me, but I will never be your slave. You can conquer my body, but not my mind.”

“We shall see,” Vlasov said. “It appears you need some training. String her up!”

Star Eagle tried to resist, but without her powers she was helpless before the two thugs who seized hold of her. She regretted relying too much on her superheroine powers. Her study of earth had revealed that there were a number of specialized fighting techniques practiced round the world, but she had passed up the opportunity to study them, believing that her alien powers would more than compensate for any deficiency in fighting skills. As she struggled helplessly against the two large powerful men, she realized how foolish and shortsighted that decision had been.

He was dragged across the room to where a set of manacles hung from the ceiling. It took only a few seconds to secure her hands over her head, stretching her body out and leaving her vulnerable to whatever Vlasov might want to do to her.

“I think first the whip,” said the Russian crime boss. “And then perhaps a few more interesting things. But first the costume comes off.” Pressing the stud at the back of her neck as Kemper had shown him he watched in amazement as the red, white, and blue outfit disappeared into the medallion.

“Yes, I really must find out how that works,” Vlasov said. Then he brought down the whip.

Star Eagle, winced as the first stroke of the lash struck her back. She was becoming accustomed to pain. She had certainly suffered worse at the hands of Kemper and his men, but she knew that the pain would mount as Vlasov continued. Soon she would be screaming for mercy, an act that she had found only encouraged her tormentors. But painful as the flogging was, she was much more worried about her withdrawal from zentoc. The drug completely dominated her. Even as she writhed under the whip, she began to call out for another fix.

Vlasov stopped beating her. A dozen lashes and she was begging for chocolate. What kind of freak had he paid ten million dollars for? Surely this trembling bitch could not be a superheroine. Kemper had duped him. But even as he watched, the brutal welts on her back began to heal. He had never seen such a thing. The injuries he had inflicted should have taken weeks to heal and yet they were gone in just seconds. But she was writhing in another sort of pain. He laboured breathing and sweat streaked body pointed to another form of torture even more insidious.

Almost unbelieving, Vlasov watched the heroine fall apart before his eyes. Her powerful muscles flexed as she sought to break free of the chains that held her; her entire body quivering as if she was possessed by the most deadly fever. “Please,” she whimpered. “I need the zentoc. Please give it to me.”

Tossing aside the whip, he walked around in front of her. Her features were contorted with a type of pain he had seen before on the faces of drug addicts. “Incredible,” he muttered. “So much power, and such a terrible weakness.”

“You want chocolate?” he said. “What will you do for it.”

“Anything,” the tormented heroine replied, “Anything.”

“Will you suck my dick?” He asked.

An expression of bewilderment crossed the heroine’s face. It suddenly occurred to Vlasov that the teenaged heroine had no idea what he was asking.

“You dumb bitch,” he said. “Don’t you know what a dick is?”

“N…No,” Star Eagle stammered, “but I’ll suck whatever it is. Just give me the zentoc.”

“I think I’ll just let you hang,” he said.

“No!” Star Eagle screamed. “Give me the zentoc!”

Vlasov laughed. The heroine’s obvious distress appealed to his cruel nature. Without a word he left the room, leaving the heroine screaming incoherently. “Keep an eye on her,” he said quietly to one of his henchmen. “If it looks like she’ll die fetch me back in here.”

He stayed away for an hour. After that his sense of curiosity got the better of him. He could hear her screams long before he saw her. Entering the room he found that she had wrenched her wrists so badly that the manacles on her wrists and her arms were covered with blood. But her amazing recuperative powers prevented any permanent damage, healing her almost as fast as she injured herself. Her eyes saw him, but there was not the slightest hint of recognition. She was beyond that now. He decided to intervene.

A single square of chocolate quieted her and he witnessed the incredibly erotic transformation that always took place when the heroine received her fix. He wanted to fuck her right then, but held off. There was something he wanted to do first.

He waited until the first rush of the zentoc wore off. He wanted her to be aware of what he was going to do. As her eyes flickered in recognition, he addressed her. “Time to put my mark on you, babe. You’re mine now and I like to mark my property.”

“What are you going to do?” asked the still panting and sweat covered heroine.”

Vlasov had picked up the whip and was holding it doubled up. Smartly, he brought the lash down across her breasts.

“Aah!” Star Eagle cried, caught off guard.

“Short memory, bitch,” said Vlasov. “Do you remember what I told you to call me?”

“I remember,” said the heroine,” said defiantly. “But I’m not going to do it.”

“I think you might,” smiled Vlasov. He brought the whip down again, raising a second welt on her perfect breasts. This time the heroine made no sound, but he saw the pained reaction flash across her goddess-like features.

He kept up the beating for several minutes, reducing her breasts and shoulders to a bloody mass of welts. She was screaming freely when he finished, but it was not the pain that brought her around, but her need for zentoc.

He had only given her a single square, and it satisfied her only for a few minutes. Now she needed more, much more.

“Yes master,” she finally relented, “I remember. I won’t forget. Just please give me the zentoc.”

Vlasov shook his head. He had beaten her savagely, and she had not relented, but it was her craving for a piece of chocolate that finally made her surrender. Breaking off two squares, he satisfied her desire.

“Next time you forget,” he threatened I hold back the zen… chocolate until you go mad.”

“I won’t forget, master,” the drugged heroine replied.

Star Eagle was mortified by her concession. But she could not fight the zentoc. Pain she could handle even though she might scream like a banshee, but the overwhelming desire for the drug dominated her like nothing she could have imagined.

“Now,” said Vlasov, “back to what I was saying. I like to mark my possessions. And I intend to mark you with fire.”

“Wh…what are you going to do?” the heroine asked as Vlasov moved behind her.

“Just heat up my magic marker,” he replied. Stepping over to the propane torch he ignited it and placed a steel bar under the flame.

“We’ll just let that heat for awhile,” Vlasov smirked and then I’ll try it out. Meantime you can carry out that promise you made.” He unzipped his fly.

“This,” he said, “is a ‘dick.’ And I believe you made a promise to suck it awhile back.”

“Why did men not call their penises what they were?” wondered Star Eagle. And what was the fascination with forcing her to take it in her mouth? It was impossible to produce children that way. However, she had no choice. Vlasov would withhold the zentoc if she did not comply. He had found the secret of her cooperation and could use it to force her to do anything he wanted.

One of the henchmen slacked off her chains, allowing her to fall to her knees. Gripping her hair, Vlasov forced her head back and then thrust his throbbing member into her mouth.

She did a much better job with Vlasov than she had with Kemper. After all, Kemper had taught her how. Now Vlasov reaped the benefit of that education. Within a few minutes she had the crime boss moaning in delight. “God,” he gasped, “you’ve got a gorgeous pair of lips.” Gripping both her ears, he hammered into her in a frenzy of sexual fervor, finally exploding into her mouth.

“Now swallow it, bitch,” he ordered, as the frothy, sticky mess he had released into her, dripped from her lips. Her stomach almost rising up in revolt, Star Eagle did what she was told. Already the craving for zentoc was returning.

Wiping off his dripping phallus, Vlasov zipped up his pants and picked up the steel rod he had inserted into the flame. It glowed cherry red and he held it in front of the mortified heroine’s eyes and she was once again hoisted onto her toes. She saw the end of the glowing rod was in the shape of the letter “V.”

“That won’t do any good,” she said. “Any burn will just heal as soon as the effect of the zentoc wears off.”

Vlasov frowned. He had not thought of that. “You’re right” he said, “but you forgot to call me master. And maybe this will help you to remember.” He touched the red hot steel to her left buttock.

Star Eagle screamed in agony. Vlasov held the iron in place for several seconds, until her seared flesh had cooled the steel to the point where it no longer marked her. Smoke rose from the V-shaped burn, which almost immediately began to heal.

Sobbing in pain, Star Eagle waited helplessly for whatever other torments Vlasov had planned for her. She did not have too long to wait.

“Get the jewelry kit,” Vlasov said, turning to one of his henchmen.

A short time later the thug returned carrying a small box. Opening it, he took out what looked like a pair of pliers and a gold ring. “There is more than one way to mark you as my property,” he said. “Chain her ankles. This is going to hurt.”

Star Eagle’s ankles were chained to two large ring bolts in the floor, leaving her with her legs spread and quite helpless to defend herself. Vlasov took her right breast in his hand and using the pliers, pinched the ring through her nipple. “you can heal all you want now, bitch,” he said. “But the ring is going to stay there.”

Star Eagle whimpered as her nipple was pierced. But she had endured worse pain, and did not want to give the crime lord any more sadistic satisfaction. He was, however, not quite finished. Reaching into the box he took out a second ring and repeated the procedure on her left nipple. Next he connected the two nipple rings with a length of short gold chain. Then he took out an elaborate gold chain.

He fastened the chain about her neck. It fit tightly, hugging her throat. From the centre of the chain hung a second set of gold links. This he hooked to the centre of the chain connecting her nipples so that they were raised slightly. And finally he took out a large gold letter V and placed it between her breasts.

“Let’s see your body get rid of that,” he sneered, admiring his handiwork. He lifted the large gold letter, tugging it a bit and stretching her nipples painfully. By now the torn flesh of her nipples had healed, but it still hurt when Vlasov tugged on them.

“Now,” said Vlasov, “it’s almost time to treat you like the whore you are.” He had deliberately waited until the zentoc had worn off. He wanted the heroine frantic with withdrawal before her took his next step. Signaling to his men, he had them move her over to the bed and spread-eagle her on it, her wrists and ankles secured to a different corner of the bed so that her body resembled a letter X. Then he let her wait while the zentoc withdrawal built up.

It didn’t take long. Inside of twenty minutes she was trashing about wildly on the bed. If her wrists and ankles had not been secured by padded cuffs, she would have rubbed them raw. Inside half an hour she was screaming so loudly that Vlasov feared his hearing might be damaged. It was then that he gave her the zentoc.

He stripped off his clothes as the heroine went through her incredible sexual transformation. Ordering his men from the room, he climbed onto the bed and moving between her legs parted the heroine’s inflamed vulva.

Star Eagle screamed as she was taken for the first time, but it was not a scream of fear or pain, but one of unbridled passion. As the zentoc surged through her system she reached a state of sexual arousal was far beyond that of any Terran female. Unable to control her sexual fervor, she arched her back and thrust hard with her hips as Vlasov entered her. Her hymen was ripped aside by Vlasov’s ravening member, but the moment of pain was swallowed in a wave of pure pleasure. Bucking like a horse she welcomed the villain within her, crying out in rampant sexual delight.

Vlasov could hardly believe the sensation as her hot love tunnel closed about his invading phallus and squeezed it like a silken vise. “Oh, zaychik moy,” Vlasov gasped. He had never had sex like this before.

Star Eagle was oblivious to Vlasov’s reference to her as a “little bunny,” but she certainly acted like a rabbit in heat. As the Russian ploughed her furrow, she raised her backside from the bed, attempting to achieve maximum penetration. Her throbbing vagina contracted in her first ever orgasm. Then while she was still recovering, she came again and then again. Even a man as experienced as Vlasov could not stand such stimulation for very long. Much earlier than he had intended he reached orgasm, blasting his load into her. Too overcome to move he collapsed onto the writhing heroine, pinning her to the bed.

Star Eagle experience the deepest shame she had yet felt over her actions. Caught up in the throes of a passion she could not control, she was nevertheless completely mortified that the zentoc had forced her to give in to her animal instincts. As Vlasov lay on her, his eyes closed and gasping from his own exertions, her eyes filled with tears of rage and shame. She had experience the ultimate in superheroine humiliation, and she had participated willingly. As Vlasov panted in pleasurable exhaustion, she wept silently.

Vlasov took her several more time after that. Each time subjecting her to the terrible pains of zentoc withdrawal and then forcing her into an enhanced state of artificial sexual arousal before raping her. There was nothing that Star Eagle could do about it. Vlasov took her when he wanted and as often as he wanted. But matters got even worse when he began to share her.

As a way of showing off his superiority Vlasov invited other men of importance to share his new slave. Eventually she was being used up to a dozen times a day. When Vlasov was not doing her himself he watched the others. But in time even this form of entertainment was not enough. He wanted something more and his devious mind found a way of finding it.

Star Eagle prepared herself for the inevitable rape, but this time Vlasov did something new. Strapping a ball gag onto her head, he tightened the straps until her mouth was forced wide open and then sat down to wait. The inexorable pangs of zentoc withdrawal soon laced her system with pain. But this time she could not scream; could not plead for release from her agony. This time she could only twist and turn in the agony of her addiction while the villain watched. And then, at the height of her suffering, he mounted her.

As she bucked like a wild animal, Vlasov rode the anguished heroine. Her muffled screams served only to excite him. Clamping his hands on her ornamented breasts, he thrust into her while she writhed in delirium.

“Fuck,” Vlasov gasped when he had finished. “It’s like trying to stay on a tornado.” He had never had such a wild ride. For the next few days, it became his preferred way of taking her. For Star Eagle the only compensating factor in the hideous ordeal was that when it was over, she could not remember a thing.

But Vlasov solved that for her. Sitting her down in front of a TV set, he played back session after session for her to watch, ordering her not to turn her eyes away.

Star Eagle’s sexual subjugation was complete. Not only had she been subjected to brutal rape, but she was now forced to watch her unwilling participation in her degradation. The shame she felt was especially deep when forced to watch her zentoc-induced orgasms. Vlasov had bragged that she was his sex slave and he was her master. Watching her mortifying performance on TV confirmed his power over her. When she was finally returned to her cell that day she wept. She was finished as a superheroine. Enslaved by both Vlasov and the zentoc, there seemed no way out. She was doomed to spend the rest of her life in sexual servitude.