The Adventures of Red Devil

Chapter 2 Beat the Devil

Awakening was a slow and painful process. Something seemed very wrong. Her head felt as if it contained a dozen Antaran mutant dwarfs all pounding with hammers on the inside of her skull. And she couldn’t move her arms or legs. They seemed paralyzed, and yet she could feel that they were there and so paralysis made no sense. Slowly she opened one eye and then the other. The light was so bright she wanted to close them again, but she had to find out what was wrong with her.

She was still in the chamber, but she was no longer on the floor. Her hands were pulled tightly over her head, each wrist clamped in some sort of strange violet metal. Looking up she could see that she was suspended from the ceiling of the enclosure by metallic cable of the same colour. The cable ran from her wrist bracelets to two armbands secured just above each shoulder. These bands were connected by still another cable that ran behind her neck, pulling her upper arms and shoulders toward one another.

How long she had been suspended in this way she did not know, but the strain on her arms and shoulders was already beginning to tell. Her taut muscles and ligaments burned with the strain of supporting most of her body weight, and her breathing was labored and painful.

Her bondage did not stop there, however. The violet cables extended from her shoulder bands to a horizontal stretcher connecting both her ankles and spreading her legs. The cables seemed to have a natural elasticity and maintained a steady tension between her shoulders and ankles. The spreader itself was in turn fastened to a central pivot set in the floor so that her entire body was lifted several centimeters off the lower surface.

About each thigh was clamped a heavy violet ring. The rings were connected to one another by more of the elastic cable. In the centre of the connecting cable was still more violet line, extending to the central pivot to maintain tension on her thigh clamps. Still more line ran from the metal rings around her thigh to the ankle bracelets securing her to the stretcher.

All of this tension would have pulled the clamps down her thighs if they had not been counteracted by a belt of the same metallic material that was tightly cinched about her waist. Cables ran from the belt to the thigh clamps, preventing them from slipping down.

All of this balanced tension pulled her arms and legs in opposing directions, exerting continual and extremely uncomfortable strain on her body. Already the pounding of her blood in the various tightly bound parts of her body was causing her considerable pain. As she tried to shift to a more comfortable position pain stabbed through her body like jolts of electricity. A low moan escaped her lips.

“You are awake. We feared you would sleep all day. Now we may begin our experiments.”

“But I don’t know anything,” Zhara protested. She spook with difficulty. She could not remember when her mouth had been so dry.

“Your cooperation is not necessary, superheroine, only your body.”

Again there came the strange rasping sound Zhara had heard before. She knew it now for what is was, a Nxcathan laugh. “Oh God,” she thought. “What is going to happen to me?”

As if in answer to her question a slight movement in the ceiling above her caught her eye. Several small panels had opened above her. Descending silently through the openings were several articulated metal arms. As they neared her, Zhara sucked in her breath. A cold chill ran through her body. Extending from the end of each arm was a variety of gleaming surgical instruments.

“Anesthetic,” she thought. “Surely they use anesthetic.” She knew that thought was nonsense. The Nxcathan torturers had never been reported to use any anesthetic or pain-blocking techniques.

“Please,” she begged, her voice shrill with terror, “aren’t you going to sedate me?”

“Sedation is not necessary and under the circumstances counter-productive. It is necessary to break your will, and pain will hasten the process.”

“No, please,” Zhara begged, every shred of self-respect discarded as her face went white with fear. But even as she spoke, the multiple arms were moving into position. She managed only one more coherent protest before her mouth was pried wide and a slender probe inserted.

Zhara screamed with fear as her mouth was forced open. She could feel other probes moving into position on other parts of her body. At the back of her costume she could hear a whirring noise. The touch of cool air on her back told her that her supposedly impenetrable costume was being peeled back, exposing the silken skin beneath.

There was a similar sensation below her waist. She knew without looking that her nether region was now completely exposed. “Oh God,” she thought. “Please somebody help me!” She had to fight hard to control her bladder as the lips of her vulva were parted and a cold, hard instrument pressed against her anus. Rolling her eyes to the right she saw a metal container being opened. Inside were several gleaming metal objects of various sizes. As she watched a claw-like instrument extracted one about the diameter of a pencil. To her horror the thing being held in front of her actually moved. She saw that it had hundreds of tiny hair-like legs giving it a remarkable similarity to a metallic millipede.

Terrified almost beyond belief she shrieked as the crawly metal creature was inserted into her mouth. With her mouth pried open she could only use to her tongue to try and keep it out, but the hundreds of tiny legs offered the creature excellent traction. It scampered to the back of her throat, and despite her strangled screams descended into her throat. She could feel it legs moving all the way to her stomach. At the same time several more of the metal things were inserted into her ears, thrust up her nostrils, and placed in her mouth where they headed for her trachea.

These last two emitted some sort of muscle relaxant as her lungs did not respond with the usual reaction to such an intrusion, which would have been a violent fit of coughing. But it was the mechanical millipedes that entered her vagina and anus that caused her the most stress. Although these machines were tiny, barely the length of her little finger, the sensations they sent through her as they crawled into her interior were truly horrible.

Writhing in horror, Zhara was forced to endure the hideous invasion of her body. She was almost physically sick as the metal invaders crawled through her body. Only with difficulty did she manage to keep her breakfast where it belonged.

“Enjoying yourself, superheroine? Be thankful that we decided to treat you gently. It is not in our interest to dismember you yet. However, there is one part of your body that the mobile probes cannot reach.”

As the Nxcathan finished the metal millipedes began to emerge from her body. This time Zhara could not keep her stomach from revolting. Her guts heaved and she vomited, hurling both the contents of her stomach and the millipede that had invaded her. Then a long metal probe moved toward her navel. Her scream as the needle point punctured her navel surpassed all previous sound she had made. But it was a more a scream of fear than one of pain. The needle sharpness of the probe hurt only a little. It was the invasion of her body that terrified Zhara.

It seemed an eternity before the probe was withdrawn. Strangely, there was very little blood. The narrowness of the probe, and its sharpness accounted for that, as well as the precise manner in which it was used.

“We will study the results. In the meantime, it is only proper that you meet the members of your own kind who have chosen to serve us.”

The door to the chamber opened. In walked a man Zhara knew well. It was the man who had defiled her sister and inspired her crimefighting career. “Magnus Krarg,” she gasped. “I might have known that a piece of filth as low as you would be in league with humanity’s greatest enemy.”

“The feeling is mutual, Red Devil. I have looked forward to this moment from the time five years ago when you completely destroyed my operation and killed over two dozen of my best men. I would have helped capture you for nothing, but the Nxcathans are paying me well.”

Krarg was a heavyset man, several centimeters lower in height than Zhara, but he greatly outweighed her. His neck resembled a tree trunk and powerful muscles bulged beneath his well tailored tunic. He approached her and stood surveying her.

Zhara felt her complexion turn bright red. Most of her costume had been shredded when the Nxcathans had begun their investigation of her anatomy. No man had ever seen her undressed before, and Zhara’s reaction was typical of any blushing virgin.

“A bit sensitive ain’t you, bitch?” Krarg asked. “Well, you’ll be red for more reasons than embarrassment before I’m through with you.”

“You’re a fool, Krarg,” said Zhara. “Don’t you realize what the Nxcathans intend once they get what they want from me? They seek the annihilation of the entire human species.”

Krarg laughed. “Yeah, they told me that. A bit exaggerated I think. What are a few hundred spiders going to do against the entire human race? They’re outnumbered millions to one.”

“But if they get my powers, a few of them will be capable of destroying all life on an entire planet.”

“If they get your powers,” Krarg sneered. “I don’t think that is likely. And even if they do it will take years for them to learn to use them properly and by that time yours truly will be far away living in the lap of luxury.”

“You’re underestimating them,” Zhara protested. “It’s not too late. You can inform the authorities about what they are up to.”

“That’s something you might do,” Krarg replied. “Me, I look out for number one and the rest of the galaxy be damned. Besides I’ve got more than one motive for wanting to punish you.” He licked his lips suggestively.

He stepped toward her, the transparent wall of Zhara’s prison parting to let him enter.

“You will be pleased to know, Krarg, that the heroine has never known a man. I believe that fits in well with your sexual preferences.”

Krarg whistled. “Well, who would have guessed it? I get to bust the cherry of a superheroine.”

This time Zhara’s complexion paled. There were worse things she realized than being subjected to the scientific studies of the Nxcathans.

Krarg noted hr reaction. “Don’t worry heroine. It won’t be any slam bam job. I plan to take my time with you.”

Zhara tried to draw away as Krarg touched her naked shoulder. Her costume had been cut away so that the Nxcathan probe could enter her navel, and she was naked to the waist. Slowly he ran his fingers over her smooth flesh, caressing her as he might a lover. Zhara’s skin crawled. His touch reminded her of a snake coiling itself about its victim.

“Scum,” she said. “Do not touch me.”

“You know,” Krarg taunted, “this reminds me so much of your sister. Did you know that I personally broke in all the new girls? She was a lot like you. Dark hair, black eyes, skin as smooth and soft as the finest Vegan silk.”

“Human sewage,” Zhara said. She spat in his face.

Krarg’s face darkened in rage, but he maintained his self control. Calmly he took a handkerchief from his tunic pocket and wiped the spittle from his face. “I think before I enjoy your body I am going to teach you who is boss.”

“Chawitlxe,” he said. “I need these restraints removed. I’m going to teach the heroine some manners.”

“So the Nxcathan spider had a name,” Zhara thought. It was almost unpronounceable, although Krarg had managed it.

“As you desire, friend Krarg.” The clamps and manacles holding Zhara released so suddenly that she collapsed in a heap on the floor. Krarg gave her no time to recover. Moving swiftly behind her he forced her face down on the floor. Removing the pin holding the horizontal spreader from the pivot, he maneuvered her body into position and clamped the restraints that had been used to hold her ankles onto her wrists. Zhara squatted on the floor, her arms drawn behind her and secured to the bar.

Zhara had not been able to offer much resistance. The anguish she suffered as the blood rushed back into her limbs caused her to cry out. It hurt far more than anything that had yet been done to her. She lay helpless, completely at Krarg’s mercy.

The first item he took off was her mask. “Yes,” he said, “the resemblance to your sister is very strong. She was a virgin too. You should have heard the noise she made when I made a woman out of her. She screamed like a baby. It will be interesting to see if you make the same fuss.”

“You are excrement,” Zhara gasped as Krarg pulled off her boots. Her gloves had already gone, along with what was left of the top part of her costume. Unable to free herself from the spreader she squatted on the floor while Krarg stripped her. As the costume was pulled away her breasts swayed erotically. Krarg could not resist running his hands over the sweet, soft curves.

“It’s going to be a real joy to suck on these,” he said, “but first I’m going to tenderize them a bit.” He pulled her to him, and squeezed each globe, massaging the flesh gently before continuing to strip her clothing from her.

By now all that was left were her scraps of material covering her thighs and the fragments of her panties. These went in short order, leaving her completely naked. Still unable to stand, she leaned forward on her haunches.

“Chawitlxe,” Krarg said, “take up a metre of slack.”

“As you wish, human friend.”

Zhara groaned as the bar rose into the air, pulling her to her feet, but pulling her arms back in a brutal strapado position. In spite of her weakness, she tried to stand in order to relieve the intense pain in her arms and shoulders. Her globular breasts swayed beneath her as she stood with her legs spread, trying to support her weight. Her back was arched and her backside pointed invitingly into the air. Her head was up, her eyes attempting to find Krarg. As if to accommodate her, he moved in front of her. “I see you’re ready Devil bitch. Now you’re going to receive a lesson in manners.”

“Stuff yourself you bastard,” Zhara replied, bowed, but not beaten. She could not have been in a much more exposed position. Krarg had raised the spreader bar until she was standing on tiptoes, her shoulders almost dislocated. She was nude and gasping for breath, her beautiful back arched and her derriere and sex organs vulnerable to whatever torment Krarg might want to inflict. She rolled her eyes trying to see what the brutal thug was up to as he moved behind her.

“Time to give you a whuppin,’” Krarg chuckled. He picked up a length of the violet cable that had been used to stretch her body. Folding it in half he slapped it into his left palm.

“Ahh, shit! That hurts!” he exclaimed. “But as not as much as it is going to hurt you, Devil bitch.”

“You’re pathetic, Krarg,” Zhara said hoarsely. Her mouth was so dry she could hardly mouth the words. She was badly dehydrated, not having drunk anything for hours. She was suffering more badly from thirst than from anything else being done to her.

“Sounds like you need some water,” Krarg said. “I want your mouth nice and moist. Chawitlxe, can you hydrate her.”

“Certainly, human friend.” From the ceiling a long flexible tube dropped in front of her. It forced its way into her mouth and past her tonsils, descending toward her stomach.

Zhara gagged at the sudden intrusion. Then she felt a cold weight in her stomach and a sudden vibration in the tube as she was pumped full of water. “Enough” Krarg said after a few moments, “I don’t want her to spring a leak.”

“You son-of-a-bitch,” cursed Zhara as the tube was removed. It seemed there was no end of ways Krarg could find to humiliate her.”

“Just like your big sister,” laughed Krarg. “She was a feisty bitch until I knocked it out of her.”

Zhara seethed with impotent rage. She remembered the weeks spent with her sister after her session in Krarg’s brothel. It had taken months before she returned to something like the good natured, cheerful girl she had been. And even after that, there always seemed to be a shadow hanging over her. It would have been worse if she had known Krarg was still alive. Both she and Zhara thought that he had died in the burst of psionic energy that had killed over two dozen of Krarg’s henchmen. They had not stayed to count the bodies, but had fled the brothel as soon as Zhara had released her. She had never discussed that day with her sister, both women preferring to leave it buried in the past.

But Krarg kept waving the sexual subjugation of her sister in her face, deliberately trying to enrage her. Always forefront in her mind was the way he had kidnapped and viciously humiliated and violated an innocent girl. “And now,” she thought, “he is doing it to me.” She would need all her strength and courage to survive the ordeal Krarg had planned for her. She hoped that she would not betray herself. She had tried to maintain a bold front. It helped to keep up her spirits. But inside there was a cold fear that sapped her strength, seeming to penetrate every part of her body. Somehow she had to keep that hidden beneath the veneer of courage that she displayed at every opportunity.

She held her breath. Krarg was whipping the length of cable through the air. The sound it made filled her with terror.

Crack! The impact of the doubled cable on her rounded backside echoed in the small room. But more than the sound was the blinding pain. She did not scream, but she could not suppress a loud gasp.

“That’s one,” Krarg jeered. “Wanna bet on how many you can take before you’re screaming for your mommy!”

“I’ll never give in to you, Krarg,” Zhara said defiantly. “You might beat me until I’m screaming, but you’ll still be scum.”

“We’ll see,” he grinned. “I’m betting you’ll change your tune sooner than you think.”

Crack! The cable came down again, crossing over the previous welt. Zhara’s body jumped. Clenching her teeth, she fought back again the pain.

“That’s two,” said Krarg. “Eighteen more and I lose my bet.”

Zhara did not reply. She was saving herself for the ordeal to come. Eighteen more! She wasn’t sure she could last even two more.

Crack! The pain was so agonizing Zhara was sure that Krarg had broken her skin.

Crack! She almost screamed. Krarg had caught her off-guard by switching from her backside to the inside of her thigh. The flesh there was much more sensitive, and she actually jumped, a small whimper escaping her lips.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Krarg counted out each one. He kept her guessing, flogging her buttocks for a few strokes and then switching to her thighs. Each blow was more painful that the last as her bruised lacerated flesh swelled under the whipping.

“Eighteen,” he said finally.

“Two more,” Zhara thought through the fog of pain that enveloped her. Her thighs and backside were on fire. She would never have believed that anything could hurt so much.

“Nineteen.” Krarg was hitting her much harder now; or at least it seemed he was. Zhara grit her teeth so hard she feared they would shatter, but she did not scream.

Krarg laughed. “Well I guess you win Devil-bitch. Nineteen and hardly a sound out of you.”

“Y…yes,” Zhara grunted. “I win and you’re still scum.”

“And here is your prize,” mocked Krarg. He brought the cable lash down again. “Twenty.”

Crack! “Twenty one,” Krarg counted. Crack! “Twenty two.”

“St…op! Stop! I won,” Zhara protested.

“I never said anything about stopping. Where did you get that idea?”

Crack! “Twenty two.”

Zhara lasted only two more before she broke. “Enough!” She screamed. “Stop! You’ve won!

“Aagghh!” Her cry of pain signaled the end of her resistance. After that she did as Krarg had said she would, begging him to stop. Promising him anything if he would only end the pain.

And he did stop. Finally. Tossing down the violet cable he moved in front of her. Through a haze of tears Zhara saw that he was opening his trousers. “Time for you to put that mouth of yours to good use girl,” he said. “Suck me off good or I’ll pick up the lash again.”

Unresisting, Zhara took him in her mouth. She wasn’t very good at it according to Krarg. He had to coach her. “Bloody virgin! Can’t do anything right. Close your lips around it and tickle it with your tongue. Suck me proper or I’ll pick up the whip again.”

Zhara learned fast. In half an hour he was praising her. “That’s it. That’s it. Nice and slow. Damn me if you’re not almost a good as your sister. She had a mouth on her like a vacuum pump, but you’re a pretty close second.”

Zhara wept in shame. In less than an hour she had been reduced from a defiant heroine to a common whore. The humiliation was almost too much to endure, but she dared not relax her grip on Krarg’s member. The pain in her buttocks was a steady reminder of what would happen to her if she did.

She felt Krarg’s thick phallus swell within her mouth. When he had first forced it past her lips she had almost gagged. She could not believe anything so big could fit into her mouth, especially not as far as Krarg wanted it to. But she had learned quickly to hold her breath when he deep-throated her. And then he had taught her all of the other oral tricks that he preferred. She had ample time to learn them. Krarg seemed inexhaustible. But now she could sense that something was happening. Krarg was gasping like a beached whale. With a grunt he shot his load into her.

Zhara’s mouth dripped the creamy fluid. But she dared not spit it out. Krarg had warned her against it. Fighting back the urge to retch, she forced herself to swallow.

“Good girl, Red Devil,” said Krarg. “You’re learning. I’ll make a first class whore out of you yet. Provided the Nxcathans leave anything of you for me to have.”

Zhara hung her head and sobbed. She was completely beaten, too mortified and exhausted to resist any longer. Krarg seized her long, shining hair and raised her head. Looking into her semen stained face he grinned. “Stay here, Devil girl. I’m not finished with you yet.” Hoisting his trousers, he stowed his dripping phallus and left the room. A broken sob escaped Zhara’s lips. He would be back, and there was nothing she could do to prevent him having his way with her.