a superheroine story by Dangerguy
WARNING: This story is strictly fictional and is not intended to portray any real persons, living or dead, nor is it at all intended to encourage the type of activity portrayed here. It is not to be resold for profit. It is strictly a fantasy/parody, intended for the personal enjoyment of those who appreciate the superheroine in bondage/peril/sexual situations genre. The story depicts graphic sexual situations, including bondage, violence, and non-consensual sex, among a number of other nasty things. It is NOT intended, nor is it at all suitable, for minors. If you are under the age of 18, or if this type of thing offends you, you shouldn’t be reading it. Otherwise, carry on, and enjoy.
The weekend flew by in the MacIntyre household. Billy, Danny, and Candy occupied themselves with making ten traumatized young women as comfortable as possible in the small bungalow. The girls contacted relieved friends and family, many of whom had begun to assume their daughters, sisters, and girlfriends were dead. Travel plans were made, and tearful farewells followed, along with heartfelt promises to stay in touch, and to keep Billy's and Candy's identities a secret. By Sunday, all the girls had departed for their home towns, save for one.
"I...don't have anyone," Angela told them abashedly at the kitchen table that night. "No family. A few friends I haven't seen in a year, but no one really close. I just..." She paused and did her best to collect herself. "I don't know where to go," she finally said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"You can stay here with us," Candy reassured her as she put an arm around her shoulder. "Until you figure out what to do. No rush, no pressure. Okay?"
Angela looked hesitantly at Danny, who nodded enthusiastically, then at Billy, who watched her silently for a moment. His eyes darted over to Candy's; he saw her pleading with him silently. He nodded his assent as well. Angela then smiled as her eyes filled with tears, and she agreed.
"Thank you," Candy told him shortly thereafter, once Danny had gone out to see a friend and Angela had retreated to the spare bedroom, leaving them alone in the kitchen. "Angela's special. Nothing happened between us, and nothing will," she reassured him. "But she...comforted me," she added, a little nervously.
"Then I owe her," Billy said simply, and gave Candy's hand a tender squeeze.
Candy smiled fondly at her boyfriend and made to move away, but Billy did not release her hand. She looked at him, a puzzled frown on her face, as he stood up from the table. She could discern tension in his body beneath the casual white t-shirt and blue jeans he wore.
Billy tilted his head, motioning down the hall towards their bedroom. They hadn't shared it since the night before her capture. While the young women had stayed at the house, Billy and Danny had bunked together in the latter's room so the girls could have the rest of the house to themselves. Now, however, Danny had his room back, Angela could use the spare, and Billy and Candy could reclaim their private space. Billy clearly meant to do that right away.
Candy followed him into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. He guided her to the bed, where they both sat, holding hands. Candy busied her other hand with pulling specks of lint from her dark blue blouse and jeans. Billy gave her hand a squeeze to get her attention, and her dark brown eyes opened wide and looked into his nervously. She'd known, since Billy had turned up to rescue her from the brothel, that they'd have to have a conversation about her ordeal. But she was definitely not looking forward to it.
"Do you want to start, or should I?" Billy said quietly, his thumb gently caressing Candy's fingers. She responded with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Fine. I'll go." He took a deep breath, followed by a long exhalation. "I love you," he started. "I can't begin to imagine what you went through. But I don't want it to happen again. From now on, we don't split up. We're partners, and we can't protect each other if..."
"Really not in the mood for a lecture right now, thanks," Candy interrupted him as she pulled her hand away from his. She turned her body on the bed until she was at a right angle to him. She rested her elbows on her thighs and slumped her body forward.
"I wasn't lecturing," Billy disagreed.
"Yeah, you were," she told him.
"Okay, whatever," Billy said impatiently. "What are you in the mood for?" Candy shot a sideways look at him. "Look, I'm sorry to play the clueless male here, but you haven't said a word to me about what happened to you. I know, I know," Billy said, his hands raised and held open defensively when Candy turned and glared at him angrily, "we haven't had time because we were helping the girls. Well, we have time now."
Candy turned from him and stared straight ahead. She'd been dreading this. She would have preferred it if she could just forget everything that had happened, and if Billy could simply never bring it up. But she knew it wouldn't be that easy. They'd kept things from one another at the start of their relationship, and it had nearly gotten them both killed. Since then, they followed a simple, unspoken rule of complete disclosure.
But this time, Candy thought, it was different. She had no idea how Billy would react to what she had to tell him. She feared for the worst; she was certain that this could mean the end for them--not only of their crime-fighting partnership, but worse, of their relationship. She considered saying nothing, but rejected the idea, knowing it would only make the whole incident fester like an infected wound.
Better to just get it over with, she decided. If he's going to break my heart, it's best to do it fast instead of making it linger. She took a deep breath and charged ahead.
"She broke me, Billy," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "She broke my will. My spirit. She snapped it like a dried-up twig..." Her hands were intertwined, the fingers interlaced so tightly they were turning white.
"I know," Billy whispered back.
"No, you don't," Candy contradicted him, her head shaking. "You hear it all the time--how everyone has a breaking point, but you don't believe it, not about yourself. 'Not me, I'm too strong for that; I won't break.' Well, I did. I thought I was strong. I'm not. I let her make me into...something I despised..."
"Babe," Billy said reassuringly, "from what the other girls told me, that bitch used every trick in the book: low-protein food, lack of sleep, drugs, torture... But they also told me that you lasted longer than anyone, three times as long. You are strong, you're the strongest person I know."
"I couldn't remember you," Candy went on as if he hadn't said a word, her voice high and cracking as she looked at him. Her eyes were shining, threatening to spill over with tears. "When I broke, it was like you'd never existed!" She paused and took a shaky breath as she stifled a sob. "I couldn't even remember your name, or your face...though that turned out to be a good thing, I guess, when she asked me about you..."
"You see?" Billy said, reaching out to caress her intertwined fingers. "You were just trying to protect me," he said with a reassuring grin.
Candy looked at his handsome face, his blue-green eyes shining with love, his lips curled into a smile, and her heart filled with affection for him. As usual, he insisted on interpreting what she said and did in the most positive way, and made her feel better about herself. But she knew he'd be hard-pressed to do that with the next thing, the last thing, the worst thing she had to tell him. So she hesitated for some time before saying it, knowing it could destroy everything they'd built together.
"Billy," she said softly, then turned away, unable to look him in the eye, "there's something else." She pulled her hands from his yet again. "Something you're really not going to like hearing."
"You can tell me anything," he assured her. She laughed derisively and shook her head.
"I..." she began, but the words choked in her throat. "I...I liked it."
The confession, so simple yet so devastating, hung there in the air between them for several minutes. Neither of them said a word. Outside, a motorcycle drove by; a dog barked. Eventually, Billy found his voice, though it was subdued and tight.
"You, um," he said, his voice shaking, "you want to explain that?"
Candy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "It was...the freedom," she said. "The freedom from responsibility. From duty. From obligation. From making choices." She paused. "There was no more struggling, no more fighting. All I had to do was obey."
"And let other men fuck you," Billy whispered harshly.
"And let other men fuck me," Candy repeated. She took another deep breath before going on, knowing the words would hurt her lover to hear as much as it hurt her to say them. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible--a tortured murmur. "And there was a part of me...that liked that too. There was a part of me that wanted to be a whore. That's how she won...that's how she beat me. By tapping into that weak, perverted part of me."
They sat in silence for some time. Then Billy suddenly pushed himself up off the bed. He strode angrily over to the bedroom window; he reached out with his arms and pressed them against the wall on either side of the window, his palms slapping loudly against the drywall. His head hung forward. He didn't say a word. Candy watched, still as a statue where she sat on the bed, as his broad shoulders sagged. A tear rolled down each of her soft cheeks.
So this is how it ends, she thought morosely. Not with a bang, but with a whimper...
Several minutes went by before he said anything. When he did, what he said surprised her.
"Do you remember," Billy said quietly from the window without turning around, "when Pervy's two lackeys captured us a few months back?"
"How could I forget?" Candy said, bitter humor in her voice.
She shook her head, her arched auburn brows furrowed as she wondered what that incident had to do with what they were talking about. Professor Percival Purves, one of her imprisoned enemies, had instructed his two lab assistants to capture Duster and the Black Phantom and subject them to perverse sex drug experiments. The Phantom had been injected with Purves' sex drug, Duster had not; as a result, he'd been reduced to little more than a sex-hungry beast. Locked in a room together, Billy had raped Candy until she'd figured out a way to escape.
"I never told you this," Billy said, his deep voice barely audible, "because I was too ashamed. I raped you, Candy, and it made me sick. But the worst part was that...deep inside me, some really ugly part of me liked raping you, hurting you." Billy took a deep breath and let it out.
"Billy, I thought you'd stopped beating yourself up over that!" Candy said as she pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the man she loved, her own pain forgotten for a moment. Billy was such a good man, the best she had ever met, and she couldn't stand to watch him berate himself for something that wasn't his fault. "Listen to me. Everyone has a dark, violent side. Yours only got out because everything about you that's good, and kind, and loving, got suppressed. You might have those ugly feelings in you, but believe me, they are not even close to being the sum total of who you are, and...I'm kind of...making your point for you, aren't I?"
Billy straightened, let his arms drop from the wall to hang at his sides, and turned around. He had a sweet, sad smile on his face, and his turquoise eyes regarded her lovingly.
"That was the idea," he said as he placed his arms on her slender shoulders. "I do know what you're going through, love, 'cause I've been through something like it myself."
Candy stared at him, her eyes wide as tears spilled from them. She'd underestimated him; she should have known better, but she'd given in to her own self-loathing. Of course he understood, and completely at that. She gazed into his eyes and saw the unquestioning, unconditional love he felt for her shining in them. Though unspoken, the offer was made: if she felt she needed forgiveness, he would offer it to her, though he felt there was nothing to forgive.
When he'd first appeared at Mistress Winter's, Candy had wanted to throw herself into his arms and weep. She gave into that need now. She stepped forward, nearly falling into his embrace. She pressed her body against his, wrapped her arms around his torso, laid her head on his shoulder, and wailed. Billy held her close, caressed her head and her heaving shoulders, and let the storm of emotion rage on.
"Sh-she m-made me..." Candy stammered miserably. "She m-made me do things...I d-didn't w-want to...I w-wasn't strong enough...OH GOD..." She erupted in sobs as her hand clenched into a fist and she struck Billy's back. He winced, but it was nothing compared to the pain his heart felt for his beloved.
"I know," he whispered into her ear, "I know..." He reached up to wipe a tear from his own eye.
"I'm so s-sorry, Billy," Candy cried as she squeezed him tight, "I d-didn't want to be unf-faithful...I'm s-sorry...I love you...I d-don't want anyone else..."
"Shhh," he shushed her softly, "It's okay. I know. I love you too..."
Several minutes later, Candy's outburst finally subsided. Exhausted, she clung to him, her eyes stinging, her face wet with tears. Her chest heaved as she gulped air into her lungs. She pushed herself back, but remained in his arms. She placed her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes.
"It was killing me, Billy," she said, her voice hoarse and low from crying. "In my heart, in my soul, I was dying. She conditioned me to...to enjoy it...but..." Candy could only shake her head while she struggled to find the words.
"I know, love," he said. "I've heard the same story from every one of the girls over the last two days. I know what you went through. But I needed to hear you say it. And you needed to get it out."
Billy pulled her back into his arms and lay her head against his shoulder. Candy sighed with fatigue, but also with relief. She closed her eyes and let herself melt into his embrace; she was back in the arms of the man she loved, and he loved her right back, and that much, at least, was right with the world.
"It's over now, babe," he cooed to her. "It's over..."
Where it lay against his shoulder, Candy's face suddenly hardened. Her eyes opened, then narrowed to angry slits; her brow furrowed; her jaw clenched. She raised her head and pushed herself out of her lover's tender embrace. When Billy looked into her face, he saw not the soft, lovely features of his girlfriend, but the fierce, determined visage of Duster, Mistress of the Winds. The transformation never failed to take his breath away.
"No," she said, her voice hard and resolute, "It's not over, my love. It's just beginning..."
The morning of the next day, Leonard Lane sat back in his leather office chair and gazed out of his 35th-floor office. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up both outside walls of the huge corner office, revealing a spectacular vista of the High Plains City skyline and the broad, flat plains beyond it. A low, discontented grunt sounded in Lane's throat. He shook his head and loosened his red silk tie from where it was knotted at the collar of his crisp white dress shirt.
The whole investment had looked so promising on paper, but had ended so poorly. The principal asset--the mansion--had burned to the ground, and the insurance wasn't going to come close to covering its value. The resources--the whores--had escaped. The manager, Danielle Winter, was a basket case; the doctors had no idea how to remove that device from her, so they were keeping her sedated and simply hoped the batteries would eventually run out. Her staff had vanished. And the target of their hostile takeover, Duster herself, remained at large.
Still, Lane reflected, perhaps the venture hadn't been a total failure. There was a considerable financial shortfall, yes, but that would be deftly hidden by his remarkably creative team of accountants, and converted into a tax-deductible loss. More importantly, however, Lane had royally screwed a superheroine--both literally and figuratively. Winter had broken Duster's spirit, and Lane imagined it was still broken after the ordeal she'd been through. Probably won't be hearing from those two for awhile, he thought. Hell, the girl and her super-powered boy-toy are probably both so traumatized that they might just hang up their masks for good.
Lane shrugged and turned back to his computer screen. A few minutes later, he was contemplating the price of pork bellies when he suddenly frowned. He scowled, puzzled, as his ears popped, as if the air pressure was increasing in the office. A moment later, he raised his hands to his ears and groaned in pain as the pressure in his ears became painfully intolerable. He looked up and noticed that every one of the floor-to-ceiling windows was pressing inward. Alarmed, Lane's eyes went wide.
Suddenly, every single one of the windows shattered with a loud CRASH. Shards and tiny fragments of glass cascaded through the office. Lane threw himself out of his chair to the carpeted floor. He cried out in terror as he cringed under his desk on his hands and knees. As his ears cleared, he heard a loud, roaring wind blow into his office. Slowly, he pushed himself out from under his desk.
Lane looked towards the windows as if expecting to discover the cause of the disturbance. He did. A howling updraft held a shapely young woman in mid-air outside of his office. The wind tousled her reddish-brown hair around her face; her eyes were hidden by an opaque green visor. She wore a long, dark brown leather coat which billowed and flapped around her. Beneath it, her feminine curves were clad in a tight green spandex singlet with gold trim; green knee-high boots with flat rubber soles were on her feet, golden gloves on her hands. Her thighs were bare. Emblazoned on the spandex costume, atop her proud breasts, was a red D with a stylized wing on the right and a lighting bolt within.
"Duster..." Lane whispered, as if he were seeing the superheroine for the first time, because in all the ways that counted, he was. He had seen a broken-spirited girl at Mistress Winter's. This young woman, with her powers employed to their full potential and her jaw set, exuded confidence.
The howling vortex carried Duster into Lane's office. She gracefully set her feet onto the carpeted floor and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Though the visor covered her eyes, Lane sensed that beneath it, the heroine was glaring at him.
"Well," he said, affecting a nonchalant tone as he stood up and walked out from behind his desk, "you certainly know how to make an entrance, young lady." His pale blue eyes wandered provocatively over her shapely body. "Dressed a little more conservatively than the last time we..."
Lane was cut off as a powerful blast of wind hit him full force, throwing him through the air and smashing him against the oak-paneled wall of his office. The blow knocked the wind out of him, and he slid down the wall to the floor. His butt hit the glass-strewn carpet, and a pained grunt escaped his lips.
"I'm not under your pet sadist's thrall anymore, Mr. Lane," Duster said, her tone cold and hard, "so I'd advise you to show a hell of a lot more respect than you did that day."
"Very well," Lane replied, his bravado slowly returning as he pushed himself back to his feet. "I suppose this is the part where you tell me why you came here today? Besides to do property damage and harass an innocent citizen, I mean."
"Don't get precious with me, Lane," Duster snarled as she slowly sauntered towards him, her boots crunching on the broken glass. "Neither of us is innocent, not anymore." She paused a moment. "As for why I'm here? It's to thank you." She stood directly in front of him now.
Lane frowned at that, then smiled salaciously. "You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed our little tryst so WUUUGGFF!!"
Lane groaned and collapsed to his knees in reaction to the powerful blow Duster had delivered to his solar plexus. He pressed his hands against his mid-section and painfully sucked air into his lungs.
"Remember what I said about respect?" Duster remarked as Lane cowered before her. "I think you'll do a lot better if you shut up and let me do the talking, Mr. Lane." She watched as the gasping businessman slowly nodded. "Good. As I was saying, I'm here to thank you...for letting me know who my real enemies are. Oh, I had some vague idea--though I didn't think Chang, Riker, and Jones really took much notice of me before. And I never would have thought that little old me would make such big, strapping men like you and Pete Scarlatti so anxious."
Duster leaned over the kneeling CEO.
"But all you boys got together just to try to get rid of me. Now why would that be, unless I pose a serious threat to you? Well, Mr. Lane, from this day on, I'm going to make good on that threat. You've declared war, and war is what you're going to get. My partner and I are going to devote ourselves to bringing you and your ilk to justice. And if you wriggle away from the law's justice, I'll make sure you get a taste of mine."
Duster grabbed Lane by his white shirt and hauled him to his feet, then slammed him against the wall of his office. Lane groaned in pain; he now felt certain that Duster's earlier wind gust had broken at least one of his ribs.
"You might want to go now and throw yourself on the mercy of the court, because if Ms. Justice Duster has to pass sentence, mercy, I guarantee, will not be in evidence. But I'm betting you're too stupid to do that." Duster released Lane and took two steps away from him. "So if you were itching for a fight, you came to the right superheroine," she said. "Life's a bitch, Mr. Lane, and so am I. You're about to find out just how much."
The superheroine turned from her adversary and began to walk away. Then she paused. She turned her head over her shoulder at him, a malicious smile on her lips.
"One more thing," she said, her tone amused, but not in a friendly way. "I'll be telling your...'business associates' who they have to thank. You know, for bringing them to my attention. I'm sure they'll show their appreciation in a most appropriate and professional manner." She felt no small amount of satisfaction at the wide-eyed, pale-faced look of terror that crossed Lane's face when he considered that unsavory prospect.
With that, Duster turned her head and walked to the nearest smashed window. She stepped out of it and into the embrace of a powerful updraft. She hovered in the wind's embrace for a moment as it turned her around so she could fire one last, baleful stare at Lane.
"'For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind'," she quoted ominously. Then the roaring gale suddenly carried her upwards and out of sight.
Duster landed on the roof of the office building which housed Lane's offices and waited. A few minutes later, the Black Phantom phased through the door that led to the stairwell. He gave his partner a thumbs-up signal.
"You planted it?" Duster asked him.
"Child's play," the Phantom replied.
While Duster had distracted Lane, the Black Phantom had accomplished the primary objective of the mission. He'd phased into the office surreptitiously and had inserted a special wireless access device into Lane's desktop computer. According to Danny--who had developed a sometimes worrisome but often useful fascination with computers over the last year--it would allow them to access the businessman's computer data.
"You know whatever we get will be inadmissible in court," the daughter of High Plains City's former district attorney told the Black Phantom.
"True," the Phantom said with a nonchalant shrug. "But it should provide enough information to pique the interest of the D.A., the FBI, the EPA...."
"It'll do," Duster said with a satisfied smile.
"You gonna drop me off at work?" The Phantom asked. "Bad enough I took last week off sick. Now I'm late..."
"I'll have you there in a flash, lover," she said as she stepped towards him. Duster wrapped her arms around the Black Phantom's torso and squeezed him affectionately. "But first..."
She raised one golden-gloved hand and pulled the oval slit in the Phantom's mask down over his nose, mouth, and chin. The two lovers closed their eyes as they pressed their lips together in a passionate but tender kiss. Their mouths opened, allowing their tongues to playfully flick against each other. A low moan sounded in Duster's throat, a hoarse groan in the Phantom's. They broke the kiss and stared into one another's eyes ardently.
"Let's stay home tonight," Duster whispered, uttering her euphemism for taking a night off from patrolling so she and Billy could make love for hours.
"Sounds like a plan," the Black Phantom murmured as a pleased smile appeared on his lips.
Duster paused a moment, looking into her partner's eyes seriously. "It's going to get ugly. You know that," she said.
The Phantom nodded. "Bring it on," he growled.
Duster favored her partner with a satisfied, confident smile. They were making a huge leap up the criminal food chain, to take on the big predators feeding on the spirit of their home town. The stakes were higher, which meant the battles would get more desperate, and their enemies more dangerous. But as she looked into her beloved's determined eyes, she knew they could weather the coming storm and emerge triumphant. Because they were hardened by the ordeals they had endured. Because they were ready. But most of all, because they were together.
Duster summoned the wind, and the two lovers, hand in hand, stepped off of the roof and into its powerful embrace.
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