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.
Been awhile, huh? I feel like that old guy in Monty Python and the Holy Grail: "I'm not dead yet!"
This is a fairly simple idea I had for a shorter Duster story. I hope you enjoy it!
Groggily, Duster lifted her head of long, tousled auburn hair. A soft moan escaped her full, luscious lips as she regained consciousness.
She opened her eyes and immediately pressed them shut; a harsh, bright light was shining directly in them, from in front and above her. She could feel her opaque, emerald-colored visor on her face, but even its advanced properties did not reduce the light's fierce glare. The superheroine blinked her eyes open to a squint and did her best to study her surroundings.
Unsurprisingly, she was bound. She felt, then saw, strong leather straps around her wrists and ankles holding her voluptuous body in a spread-eagle position, her arms held above her shoulders by straps attached to cables hanging from the ceiling, her legs invitingly spread open by straps attached to strong metal eyelets in the floor. At least, she noticed, she was still wearing her uniform, the green spandex with gold trim stretched tautly over her muscular but still oh-so-feminine frame. But based upon past, very bitter experience, she knew that state of affairs was unlikely to last.
Duster quelled her rising trepidation. She gave her head a shake. The last thing she remembered was being in an intense battle alongside her partners, the Black Phantom and Night Angel, against the Diablos, one of High Plains City's most notorious street gangs. The fight had been inside a large warehouse, she recalled, filled with row upon row of shipping crates. She had pursued one thug when he'd apparently decided that discretion was the better part of valor; she'd followed him around one of the large shipping containers, separating herself from her team-mates in the process. Then there was a sound from behind her, and everything had gone black, until she awoke here... wherever here was.
The superheroine involuntarily winced and shook her head in self-admonition. So it had been a trap, and she'd walked right into it. A rookie mistake that she should have known better than to make, but in the heat of battle, her better judgment had failed her.
"So you're finally awake."
The voice, deep, resonant, and male, brought her back to the here and now. The voice came from in front of her; she squinted through the glare of the overhead light in an effort to discern who had spoken. Ahead of her was a long, low desk, and seated behind it, facing her, were five people, apparently male. The desk was backlit by about a half-dozen low, bright lights, so all Duster could see were the dark silhouettes of the five men sitting there.
"Excellent," the man said, though his tone remained sober and unemotional. "The proceedings may now begin."
"What?" Duster said. She gave her bonds an annoyed but fruitless tug. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"We are not here to answer to you," the man said. "You are here to answer to us."
"I don't know what you're..."
Duster was interrupted by the distinct sound of a gavel being rapped in a commanding fashion.
"This court will come to order," the man said. "The case before us is The People versus Duster. Mister Justice White presiding, along with Misters Justice Orange, Blonde, Pink, and Blue."
Duster could not contain a snort of derisive laughter. "I think you guys have seen Reservoir Dogs one too many times."
"Bailiff, bring the defendant to order, if you please," the man calling himself 'Mr. Justice White' said.
The shapely superheroine had not noticed the sixth man standing behind her and to her right. He stepped forward and towards her now, though in the bright glare of the overhead light, all she could discern was a tall, hulking silhouette. The big man's arm drew back, then came forward, and a billy club slammed into Duster's mid-section.
"UUUNNGGFFF!!" Duster cried out as the blow drove all the air from her lungs. Had she not been bound, she would have collapsed to the floor. As it was, she hung in her bonds, her head over her chest, painfully sucking air into her lungs.
"Not to put too fine a point on it," Mr. White said with the hint of world-weariness in his voice so common among judges, "but the defendant will confine herself to speaking only when spoken to. Is that clear?"
Duster shakily raised her head. She glared at her tormentors from beneath her visor, but she nodded her head and said nothing. Play along with their sick little charade, she coached herself. Play for time, give Billy and Angela a chance to find you...
"The charges against the defendant are as follows," Mr. White went on. "Murder: specifically, Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Lane; Vincent "Hawkeye" James; Carl Riker, Peter Scarlatti, and several of their associates. Were there a charge for mass murder, young lady, you would be facing it."
"This is ridiculous! I've never killed any--"
The bailiff suddenly stepped forward, and Duster's breath caught in her throat. She fell silent and Mr. White continued.
"Aggravated assault: upon one Mr. David Boris, a.k.a. "the Motormaster", and several of his associates, some of whom are listed as deceased and also appear under the murder charges. There are also several counts of theft, extortion, breaking and entering, as well as lesser charges too numerous to mention, but they are listed in the docket. How does the defendant plead?"
"Go to hell!" Duster said, her voice suffused with the outrage and contempt she felt. "I'm not entering a plea in some kangaroo court... this isn't a court of law! It's a sham!"
"I see," Mr. White said tiredly. "So we'll add contempt of court to the list of charges you're facing. The defendant should be aware that if a plea is not forthcoming, one of 'guilty' will be entered for her. So, I ask again: how do you plead?"
"Not guilty," Duster said, her voice dripping with contempt.
"As expected, and duly noted. The court will now pass judgment."
"WHAT?!?" Duster cried. "What the hell sort of a court is this?! What about witnesses, evidence..."
"Not required," Mr. White intoned. "As you yourself correctly pointed out, this is not a court of law. It is, however, a court of justice, and I assure you that justice will indeed be meted out upon this day."
"This is absurd!" Duster snarled, and gave her restraints a useless tug.
"Mr. Blue?" Mr. White prompted his colleague.
"Guilty," a man's deep voice intoned.
"Mr. Blonde."
"Guilty."
"Mr. Orange."
"Guilty."
"Mr. Pink?"
"Heh heh." The man actually giggled before speaking. "Guilty, hee hee."
"And the head of the court also determines the defendant guilty of all charges," Mr. White declared with a hint of smugness in his voice. "The sentence will now be passed."
"Of course," Duster muttered contemptuously.
"The sentence for your crimes is death," Mr. White said. "You will remain in this place and you will be raped until you are dead. And may God have mercy on your soul."
Duster gasped. "I'll be what until I'm dead?!?"
"I'm not in the habit of repeating myself, young lady," Mr. White said impatiently. But when he spoke again, Duster could hear, even if she couldn't see, his self-satisfied smile. "But for you, I'll make an exception. You're going to be raped to death, my dear. Fucked until you die. A fitting end for a super-slut such as yourself."
"Even if that were possible," Duster said, fighting to keep a fearful tremor out of her voice, "it would be barbaric!"
"Hmmm?" Mr. White murmured. "Oh, I see. You're imagining bodily harm to your genitalia, leading to death by blood loss. You're correct, that would be barbaric, though it does hold a certain lowbrow appeal. Nevertheless, it's not what the court has in mind for you."
"Then what...?" Duster said, her mind racing.
"Have you not noticed the absence of those formidable wind-powers of yours?" Mr. White said. Now that he mentioned it, Duster attempted to call up a wind-storm in the room to attack her tormentors, and suddenly realized she could not. "The court took the precaution of administering the superpower-suppressing drug MetaMute; I believe you're familiar with it, along with its creator, Professor Percival Purves."
"Pervy..." Duster whispered, uttering the nickname by which perverted scientist was better known. Her stomach clenched. She didn't like where this was going.
"Yes, another one of your victims for whom you will be brought to justice on this day," Mr. White said pompously. "Since his recent release from prison, he has been in our employ, and has prepared the means by which your sentence will be carried out. I believe you're also familiar with another one of Purves' creations--the sex-drug called 'Ecstamex'?"
"Yes," Duster said quietly. Her mouth was dry. She was far too familiar with Ecstamex; the all-too-readily-available sex-drug had been administered to her several different times by various enemies, who had then violated her while she was in the drug's orgasmic thrall. But even though the drug was loathsome to her, she knew that it was not lethal.
"I'll just bet you are," Mr. White growled, finally allowing some emotion to creep into his previously-even judicial voice; Duster could feel his eyes wandering over her voluptuous form, even if she couldn't see them doing so. "We commissioned Professor Purves to create a special version of the drug in order to carry out your sentence." White chuckled softly. "He actually offered to do it for free! Of course we insisted on properly remunerating him."
Mr. White's hand reached forward towards a dark, rectangular box on the desk in front of him. He opened it, and then pushed it forward into a small pool of light on the desk so that Duster could see its contents. Inside the box was a hypodermic needle, and a small bottle of purplish fluid.
"What... does it do?" Duster asked, her voice tight as she struggled to fight off a wave of panic.
"Like its predecessor, this version of Ecstamex also stimulates the pleasure centers in the brain as well as the body's erogenous zones," Mr. White said clinically. "In fact, Purves boosted the formula a little; this one is almost twice as strong in that regard. However, unlike Ecstamex 1.0, as Purves now calls it, this version does not inhibit higher brain functions. Now, I've been led to believe that you're a smart girl. Can you fathom the implications of that?" Mr. White asked rhetorically, his voice filled with smug self-satisfaction. Duster said nothing. She could feel a cold sweat breaking out on her alabaster skin. "No? Or are you just shocked into silence? Well, to spell it out--as you are raped, your conscious mind will, I should expect, resist; but your body will completely betray you. You will orgasm repeatedly and uncontrollably, despite your resistance and the violation of whatever mores you have. Eventually, you will succumb to cardiac arrest and fulfill this court's judgement upon you."
"Please," Duster said, fearful now, "don't do this..."
"Oh, no," Mr. White said, "we've all been looking forward to doing this for a long time. Beg if you want--please do, it adds to the moment--but you won't be getting out of this one, superheroine. Bailiff... strip the defendant, if you please."
"NO!!" Duster exclaimed, but it did her no good. The hulking form of the bailiff stepped forward once again. The big man stood in front of her, so tall he blocked out the bright overhead light, but all Duster could see was a huge, dark silhouette looming over her. She felt the man's rough fingers grasp her spandex outfit where it stretched over her large, firm breasts. He pulled the spandex away from her breasts, then pulled his hands apart, one up, one down.
The room filled with the sound of tearing fabric as the bailiff tore apart Duster's costume. He pulled the spandex down, uncovering her breasts--concealed now only by her black sports bra--her quivering white abdomen, and her loins covered by black panties. The man gave the costume another tug from between Duster's legs; the green fabric tore at the back, separating from the gold collar that encircled Duster's tender neck, and the big man tossed the ruined costume aside. The green fabric still covered her bound arms, and her golden gloves were still on her hands and forearms just as her green knee-high boots clad her feet and shapely calves. But upon her upper chest, only a tattered remnant of her costume remained, including her stylized winged D that encased a red lightning bolt; it hung above her exposed cleavage as if to mock her.
Duster was breathing heavily now, anticipating her complete exposure. The bailiff's rough fingers pressed between her sensitive breasts, making her gasp; he grabbed the black sports bra where its cups joined and yanked it hard. The superheroine gave a sharp cry as the bra was removed from her chest. Her large breasts jiggled enticingly upon her chest as they were freed from their confinement.
The bailiff reached down with one hand into the waistline of Duster's black panties, making the usually-stalwart heroine inhale sharply through her teeth. The man paused a moment, clearly enjoying tormenting the beautiful crime-fighter, then tore her panties away from her body, exposing a neatly-trimmed patch of auburn pubic hair and the pale pink pussy beneath it, as well as her heart-shaped behind.
As the bailiff stepped away, having left Duster naked and exposed, his parting revealed that the five "judges" had left their seats behind the desk and now stood in front of Duster, though they were still visible to her only as dark silhouettes.
"Mr. Justice Pink has some medical training, and will administer the lethal dose on behalf of the court," Mr. White said solemnly.
One of the dark figures standing in front of the heroine pressed the hypodermic needle's tip into the vial containing the drug. He pulled back the plunger to extract the liquid into the hypo's chamber. He then removed the needle and held it before him. He gave the plunger a brief squeeze, making a few drops of the Ecstamex spurt from the needle's tip. He stepped towards Duster.
"Noooooo..." Duster pleaded, but to no avail.
"Hold still now," Mr. Pink said. "This won't hurt a bit. That comes later... and so do we, hee hee hee..."
The bailiff suddenly grabbed Duster's right arm and tore open the spandex covering it. He then grabbed her arm with both his hands and held the limb firm.
"Oh God..." Duster whimpered as she felt the sharp prick of the needle pierce her soft skin.
Mr. Pink withdrew the needle and the bailiff released her arm. Duster's heart was already pounding in her chest, so the vile chemical spread through her bloodstream and her ripe young body quickly. Her long history with Ecstamex made her recognize each of its effects: the sudden heat in her breasts, behind, and loins; the accelerated breathing and heart rate; and, of course, the gush of lubrication in her pussy. Unlike other exposures to the drug, however, the usual light-headedness did not afflict her this time. Evidently this new version of the drug worked exactly as described, at least so far. But would it kill her? Duster didn't want to find out.
Of course, she had no choice in the matter. She watched with trepidation as the five so-called judges prepared to carry out her sentence themselves. They were removing their suit jackets and ties--she could at least see that much.
"Now, it's tradition, of course, to offer a blindfold to the prisoner who's about to be executed," Mr. White was saying as he loosened his tie. "Usually the prisoner is given a choice, but not in your case. Bailiff, remove the prisoner's visor and then apply the blindfold."
"NO!" Duster shouted as the hulking figure of the bailiff stepped towards her. She tried, in vain, to move her face away from his reaching hand, to preserve her secret identity. But the big man grabbed her hair with one of his meaty paws, then his other hand pulled the emerald-colored visor from her head. Duster pressed her lovely face against her forearm, trying to hide her identity from her tormentors.
She felt a hand grasp her chin and harshly pull her face forward. Duster gasped. Her eyes were open wide, frightened like those of a cornered animal. Then the harsh overhead light struck them and she closed them to a narrow squint. She still couldn't make out anything except the dark, general shape of the man standing in front of her.
"Very pretty," Mr. White said, appreciating Duster's oval-shaped face as he held it, with its creamy complexion, soft brown eyes, gently upturned nose, downy cheeks, and luscious lips. "Anyone know her?" he said over his shoulder to his associates.
The lack of response from the other "judges" made Duster relax, but only a little. After all, even if these men didn't recognize her, they still intended to rape her--apparently until she died.
"Doesn't anyone buy a girl a drink first anymore?" she remarked. She meant to sound cavalier, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her fear.
"And she has spirit," Mr. White remarked. "That should make this very entertaining."
Duster suddenly gasped as the bailiff slipped a black strip of cloth over her eyes and tied it behind her head, completely blinding her. Once the knot was tied, he backed off, leaving the superheroine blind, bound, and naked, and completely at the mercy of her captors.
She waited for them to make their next move. In the small, dark chamber, the only sound she heard was her own heavy breathing and the ever-faster pounding of her heart. Several moments passed, and she realized they were tormenting her further by making her wait. As if unmasking her and blindfolding her weren't enough. She realized that everything they were doing was calculated to increase her anxiety. As a result, even before anyone laid a hand upon her, Duster's heart was already pounding in her chest. All of it would bring about the desired effect--her death--that much sooner. Duster struggled to quell her body's increasingly anxious response. She took several deep breaths, trying to relax herself, but the drug made it difficult. And still the men made no move upon her.
"Get on with it, you bastards," she hissed through clenched teeth. She braced herself for the first rape.
"If you insist, my dear," Mr. White said, his voice smooth as warm honey. "As head of the court, the duty falls to me first..."
In utter darkness, Duster waited a moment more; it seemed to stretch to infinity. Then she gasped when she felt Mr. White's fingers on the soft inside of her right thigh. His hand moved upwards, ever-so-slowly, until his fingertips found the soft folds of her vagina. The auburn-haired heroine inhaled through clenched teeth as his fingers suddenly pressed inside her. To her shame, she was wet, extremely so, thanks to the Ecstamex.
"All primed and ready, I see," Mr. White said. He withdrew his fingers from Duster's pussy. She then heard the distinctive sound of a zipper being undone. She pressed her trembling lips together and waited for what promised to be the first violation of many.
Suddenly, she felt a man's cock, hot and hard, thrust into her pussy.
"UNGH!!" she exclaimed as she was violated. Her body jerked in its bonds, her breasts shaking on her chest as Mr. White penetrated her. Her hands clenched into fists and her teeth ground together as her rape commenced.
Already, she could feel her body betraying her, as predicted. Her pussy was hot and slick with lubricant; involuntarily, the muscles in her loins clenched around Mr. White's cock. Upon the peaks of her large breasts, her nipples were rock-hard. Unlike her previous experiences with Ecstamex, she did not feel the inexorable pull of her conscious mind towards surrender. She was completely cognizant and aware of what was happening to her, and that only made it worse.
"NO! Get... OUT of me!" she cried, then inhaled sharply as she felt Mr. White's right hand squeeze her left breast and pinch the hard, sensitive nipple at its peak.
"Not until I'm done," he replied, his voice suddenly raw and heavy with male need.
Mr. White pulled his hips back, withdrawing his cock, then thrust hard and deep into Duster.
"OHHHH!!" Duster exclaimed as his cock filled her to the hilt. His hands enclosed her breasts now and held them like handles. Duster's conscious mind was revolted, but her primitive mental pleasure center and her body revelled in the sensation. Her pussy was spurting love honey all over his hard cock as he raped her.
"UH! UH! UH! UH! UH!" Mr. White grunted as he slammed his hips against Duster's loins repeatedly. Her breasts shook in his hands with each thrust, and her mouth hung open as she gulped air.
"No... no... no... no... stop, please stop..." Duster panted as he fucked her.
"Yes... you can... feel it, can't you?" Mr. White whispered harshly into her ear. "Your ripe... young body... rising towards orgasm... MMMMM... the first of many... that will kill you... and you're powerless... to resist!!"
"NO!" Duster cried, but his words rang true. She could feel her body succumbing, preparing for climax. She tossed her head back and forth, the only movement she could manage to convey her resistance. But it was completely futile; already she could feel the tell-tale tightening in her loins...
Mr. White reached up and grabbed the hair at the back of Duster's head. He pulled her face towards his and their open mouths met in a lascivious kiss. His tongue plunged deep into her mouth, tickling the back of her throat. Duster squealed into her rapist's mouth, but could do nothing to prevent this complete and utter violation of her body.
"OH YES... going to COME... " Mr. White growled when he broke the kiss. His right hand left her breast and reached down to squeeze her ripe ass.
"Oh GOD..." Duster moaned in despair as her sensitive behind was groped. Her breaths were rapid and shallow now; despite her best efforts to resist, her body, as predicted, was betraying her. Not even the threat of death could prevent her from climaxing.
"Hunh hunh hunh hunh HUUUUUUUUUNNNNGGGHHH!!!" Mr. White roared as he came, his back arching as his cock spewed hot, sticky cum deep inside the beautiful crime-fighter's pussy.
The sensation of hot jism inside her sent Duster over the edge. Her luscious mouth opened wide and she gasped, then came.
"OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!! Oh God oh God oh my God OOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!" she screamed as the orgasm claimed her, making her body quiver violently in its bonds.
As her climax ended, Duster suddenly slumped in her bonds. Indeed, had she not been bound, she would have collapsed to the floor. That had been no ordinary orgasm; it had been not just powerful, but draining. She labored to breathe; her body was glowing with sweat. As her mind recovered from the post-climax haze, she realized that everything Mr. White had said about the drug must be true. And that meant that she would die at these men's hands, after suffering a fate worse than death... several times.
Even so, Duster was a superheroine and a young woman with remarkable inner fortitude. She gulped down several breaths. When Mr. White pulled his softening cock out of her, she shakily forced herself to stand upon her own feet rather than hanging from her aching arms.
"Is that... the best... you can do?" Duster breathed, her full upper lip curling in an expression of contempt. "If that's all you've got... it's gonna take all night... for you boys to finish me..."
After a moment's pause, Mr. White's condescending laughter filled Duster's ears. "Oh my, we have a spirited one here, gentlemen! Never fear, young lady... the end result is inevitable. I myself rather hope you outlast us; we have something special planned should it come to that."
Duster's stomach clenched as she tried to imagine what the 'something special' was, but she struggled to give no outward sign of her trepidation.
"Now, according to the lots we drew, I believe Mr. Justice Orange is next..."
Once again, the blindfolded superheroine heard heavy footfalls as the man stepped forward; the quick zipping sound as his fly came undone; the rustling of his trousers and shorts. Duster could feel his breath, hot and heavy, upon her naked chest the whole time; he had to be standing mere inches in front of her. Then she felt his hands grasp at her body, clutching, groping, squeezing her breasts, her thighs, her ass, and the sensitive folds of her pussy. She grunted as he fondled her roughly, not to express her discomfort, but to hide her excitement and her shame. For Purves' insidious concoction was performing its fiendish task. Once again, her body grew primed and ready for sex, her heart pounding, breath racing, nipples hardening, her pussy heated and oh so wet...
She felt the tip of his hard, hot cock press against her labia, and then, with a sudden thrust, he was inside her. He wasted no time. His next thrust came quickly on the heels of the first. His hands continued to explore her helpless body. She felt his face against her own and turned away, then grimaced as he licked her cheek.
"UGH! Disgusting!" she exclaimed; the man laughed, a hard, low, and utterly merciless sound.
He lowered his head. One hand grasped and raised her large, heavy breast; his lips found the puckered nub at its peak and latched on to it.
"OOHHHH!!!" Duster cried as the man sucked on her nipple, then gave a sharp shriek as his teeth clamped down upon it. "St-STOP IT!!" But he did not. He worried her breast like a dog with a bone, licking, sucking, biting... and though she resisted his crude attention, his every action made Duster's voluptuous body even more excited.
Finally his mouth released her breast, and Duster sighed in relief. But it was short-lived. He now began to fuck her in earnest. He slammed his hips against her loins so hard her breasts bounced upon her chest.
"OH GOD... OH GOD... OH GOD..." Duster moaned through clenched teeth as he raped her. As before, her body was rising to climax, and she knew each one would be more powerful than the one before, until finally...
"NO!!" she cried. "I... don't... WANT... THIS!!" Her teeth ground together as she fought her body's urge to climax with all of her being. She would not give in to the pleasure, not if it meant her death! She had too much to live for--the good she did as a superheroine, her work as a scientist, her beloved Billy, the Black Phantom...
Thinking of her lover was a mistake. The image of his tall, handsome frame filled her mind, and she could not help imagining that it was him ravishing her. Didn't they often play bondage games in the privacy of their own home? It was always so exciting when he tied her up and had his way with her...
"NO!!" Duster cried, but it was too late; the image of her lover's muscular body was in her mind and would not be removed. Together with the pounding of the cock in her loins and the sex drug coursing through her veins, it conspired to bring her to yet another devastating orgasm.
"UH! UH! UH! UH! UH!" the man was grunting with each thrust. Duster could feel his body tightening as he drew closer to climax; her own would soon follow. Would it be the one...?
"OH! OH! OH! NO! NO! NO! PLEASE NO!!" Duster pleaded, but her desperate cries only egged on her rapist. The man accelerated the tempo of his thrusts.
Duster's head fell back and she moaned her despair. "NOOOOOOOOOOO..."
"UUUHHHHHHHH!!" the man groaned as he came. He slammed his hips against Duster's as he filled her pussy with his spunk.
"OH GOD!! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" As before, the sensation of hot cum in her pussy induced Duster's own climax. She came hard, and she came long, wheezing breaths into her aching lungs in between the spasms of a multiple orgasm. "huuuuuunhhh... huuuuuunhhh... HHUUUUUUNNNNHHHH!!!"
The heroine and her assailant stood, breathing heavily, for some time in the aftermath of their mutual orgasms. Then the man pulled his cock out of Duster; he gave the superheroine a condescending pat on the cheek before zipping his fly. Utterly spent, Duster slumped, her body held upright only by the leather bonds around her gloved wrists. Her head hung over her chest. Several locks of her long, tousled auburn hair were matted with sweat and plastered against her flustered face.
"Now where's that formidable superheroine spirit you were displaying after I fucked you?" Mr. White taunted her.
"I... " Duster began to say, but, winded as she was, her breath caught in her throat. Her legs felt like they were made of rubber. She struggled to straighten her knees and stand upon them, bound and spread apart as they were, to demonstrate her defiance, or at least relieve some of the strain on her arms and shoulders. After a few moments, she managed to right herself, though her naked body trembled at the strain.
"Yes, the orgasms are draining your strength, aren't they?" Mr. White said. "Already, you're weak as a kitten. Purves will be pleased to hear that his drug worked even better than expected."
Duster did not respond, but she knew he was right. When she and Billy made love, he could bring her to climax several times in one evening--it was shattering, in a glorious way, but not like this. This was draining her, sapping not only her physical strength, but her will power--and her will to live?
But from somewhere deep inside, she found some reserve of strength. For all it was worth, though she knew it wasn't much, she threw it in their faces.
"You... won't... kill me," she panted. "You're... the ones... who are weak..."
"Remarkable," Mr. White said with some small amount of admiration in his voice. "But incorrect, and pointless. Let us continue. Mr. Justice Blue, you're up next... pun fully intended."
Duster heard another man walking towards her and did her best to brace herself. But her heart leapt into her throat when she heard him walking around behind her. Oh God, no, he's not going to...!
"Ah, of course," Mr. White said with a subtle hint of amusement in his voice, "Mr. Blue is ever the dissenting opinion on our bench. He has his own... preferred method of execution."
Duster heard, behind her, what sounded like a bottle of some sort of liquid being pulled out, opened, and poured. She could not hold back the shocked gasp that escaped her lips when she felt a man's slick, lubricated fingers pressing between her ass cheeks. Too weak to resist now, Duster could only whimper as his fingers entered her tight anus, spreading the lubricant around the puckered opening.
"Oh God no... not there..." Duster whispered. It wasn't just that anal sex was something she almost never indulged in; it was so utterly shocking, so taboo to her.. she knew the sex drug would latch on to her resistance and turn it into perverse pleasure.
"Perhaps we should expedite things and turn this duo in to a trio," Mr. White said. "If it pleases the court, there appears to be a... 'loophole' needing to be filled... Mr. Justice Blonde?"
Again Duster gasped as she heard the footfalls of another man stepping forward until he stood in front of her. His breath was hot upon her cheek, and she winced when she heard his fly opening.
Oh God no, Duster thought, not both at once...
But that was exactly the arrangement that unfolded. Mr. Blonde pressed his hard cock against her pussy and, with torturous slowness, pushed it in to the hilt. Duster groaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and despair. Then Mr. Blue grasped her ass cheeks and spread them apart. Behind her blindfold, Duster's eyes were opened wide with alarm. She then felt his big, hard cock pressing against her tiny anus. Mr. Blue grabbed her hips and slowly pushed his cock inside her.
"AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" Duster squealed as she was anally raped. She took a rasping breath; already, the overwhelming sensation of not one, but to hot cocks inside her was pulling her inexorably towards another devastating climax, another orgasm that would bring her one step closer to death. Her hands clenched into fists and trembled in their bonds.
The men began to move, slowly at first, testing the bound and blindfolded heroine and each other for a suitable tempo. Mr. Blue had to move more slowly, as Duster's anus was extremely tight; but it only made him enjoy fucking her ass even more. Gradually, the drug worked its way with Duster's body, her sphincter relaxed, and Mr. Blue was able to fuck her faster and harder. His companion responded in kind, and the two men found an alternating rhythm that worked.
And work it did, working over Duster, working her into submission. Her knees gave out. She hung painfully by her arms. Her body trembled between the two men ravishing her. She could feel her large breasts crushed against Mr. Blonde's chest. Her nipples rolled against his skin as the trio moved, and the sensation only added to Duster's pleasure and torment.
"Uuuuuuuunnnnnhhhhh..." Duster moaned, her head lolling from shoulder to shoulder. She gulped air into her lungs when she could. Behind her blindfold, her eyes rolled up into her head. When Mr. Blonde reached up to grab one of her breasts and squeeze it, while Mr. Blue reached around from behind to grope the other pliant globe, Duster could only groan as the multiple sexual sensations overwhelmed her. Her conscious mind was active and urged her to resist, but her body had no strength left. There was only the devastating pleasure; all she could do was endure it, until...
"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh," Duster grunted weakly as her two assailants increased their tempo. They were alternating their thrusts into her loins, and Duster's helpless body bucked between them. They released her breasts and clasped her hips, leaving the large globes to bounce and sway against her rib cage.
The tell-tale tightening in Duster's loins set off internal alarm bells. Another orgasm? How weak would this one leave her? Too weak to resist... too weak to live?
"No!" she objected, albeit weakly. "Please! No more! It's... too many!"
She heard Mr. Justice White laughing, mocking her. "And here I've been reading the wife's Cosmo and thinking that women can never get enough!"
Mr. Blue grabbed a handful of Duster's auburn locks and pulled her head back. She gasped, and he took the opportunity to plant his lips over hers and shove his tongue into her mouth. Mr. Blonde leaned forward and placed his mouth over the pale skin at the side of Duster's neck. He bit and sucked at her sensitive skin, leaving a tell-tale mark on her flesh. Duster could only squeal impotently into Mr. Blue's mouth as the assault went on.
The two men were fucking her holes hard now, their breathing strained, their bodies tightening as they approached climax. Mr. Blue released Duster's mouth from his own, leaving her head to bob weakly between her outstretched arms.
"UuuuuHHHHuuuuHHHHuuuHHHHuuuHHHH..." Duster moaned as her limp body rocked between her two assailants. Then she felt it, deep inside her, her next orgasm, insisting on release, and as deaf to her pleas as her tormentors were. "No. No... I can't... I can't take it... please... stop..."
"HHHHHRRRRAAAAGGHHHH!!" Mr. Blonde roared as he threw his head back and climaxed.
"UUUUNNNNHHHHHHHHHH!!" Mr. Blue groaned as he, too, came inside the heroine.
As before, the climaxes of her ravishers induced Duster's orgasm. This time, her head fell back, her mouth opened wide, and she made no sound save for a weak croaking that rattled deep in her throat. Her body twitched and spasmed as each wave of the orgasm crashed through her. It felt as though her heart would beat its way out through her chest. She could not breathe, could not think, could only ride the wave to its end...
When it was done, her body went completely limp. Her head fell forward to hang over her naked chest. Her body hung completely from her arms; when her two assailants withdrew their cocks from her body, she continued to hang there, unmoving and silent.
"Is she...?" Mr. White asked.
Mr. Blue finished buckling his trousers and then pressed two fingers against the superheroine's neck. He snorted in disbelief.
"Still alive!" he said.
"Amazing," Mr. White said. "She has quite the constitution, this young lady."
"Purves said that a normal subject would be dead after the third climax," Mr. Blue remarked.
"Purves also declined to predict how long it would take with this particular subject," Mr. White responded. "And I can now see why..." He paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Not that it matters. So it takes a couple more climaxes to do her in. So much the better. After all, Mr. Pink hasn't had his turn yet. And you'd like to have a turn, wouldn't you, Mr. Pink?"
Mr. Pink said nothing at first; he was silent for a moment. Then a high-pitched, perverse giggle filled the air...
Duster regained consciousness a short time later. Groggily, her eyelids fluttered open. As before, she immediately squeezed them shut. A harsh bright light again shone down upon her, effectively blinding her as much as the blindfold that had obviously been removed.
Gingerly, Duster turned her head and flexed her limbs. She groaned softly; every muscle in her body ached. She was sure the last orgasm would be the one to kill her, but apparently it had not.
So... what now? she wondered.
"You continued to amaze us, Duster," she heard Mr. Justice White's voice say. "What was it that Bond villain once said? 'You have a very annoying habit of surviving'."
It came from behind--no, above her head? She realized she was lying flat on a soft surface... a bed? And that Mr. White was standing where her head lay. Yes, it was definitely a bed; the mattress was depressed beneath her light frame, and she could feel sumptuous silk against her naked flesh. She rolled her head to one side and could see she was laid out on a queen-sized bed, on top of a blood-red coverlet over pure white sheets that glowed in the bright overhead light. Unsurprisingly, she was still mostly naked, aside from her boots, gloves, and the tattered remnants of her costume that remained around her shoulders.
Duster looked upwards; she could make out--upside-down to her--Mr. White's silhouette, but no more than that; only the bed was illuminated, the room around it was pitch-black. She frowned and glared at her tormentor.
"I..." Duster said, then had to cough; her mouth and throat were bone-dry, her voice no more than a weak rasp. "I also have... an annoying habit... of kicking ass. You'll... find out..."
Mr. White laughed softly. "Somehow I suspect not. And you may shortly find yourself wishing you had indeed perished from your last orgasm. Your survival of that ordeal leaves me with no choice but to force you to endure another one... And this time, it will be, I assure you, quite fatal. I leave you to the tender mercies of Mr. Justice Pink. Farewell, Duster..."
With that, Mr. White turned and walked away from the bed. Duster heard him stop and turn around a short distance away; apparently he was going to watch. Indeed, Duster turned her head to either side and could just discern six silhouettes in the darkness surrounding the brightly-lit bed. So they were all there, her five "judges" and the monster of a bailiff. One of the silhouettes, shorter and more slender that the others, stepped forward. Was this Mr. Pink? Duster recalled that he was the only "judge" who had not raped her... yet.
"Hee hee hee," she heard the man giggle, and the perverse sound sent a shiver down her spine. "Too strong, she's too strong for them," he muttered. "Ahhh, but she's not too strong for me. Not too strong... for my machines..." he hissed at her.
Duster's heart lurched. She had survived three rapes, despite the deadly sex drug in her bloodstream that was supposed to make her succumb to a 'killer orgasm'. Perhaps she had indeed survived because her assailants were human. If this perverse little man meant to strap her into a machine that would stimulate her, however, how could she hope to survive? A machine would not tire or relent; it would, indeed, fuck her to death.
The superheroine suddenly realized that she was no longer restrained. She tried to take advantage of her sudden freedom, to fight, to escape, but she did not even have the strength to lift her head. She tried to raise her arm and only succeeded in shakily lifting her hand.
Oh God, I'm so weak! Duster despaired. If they make me climax again, it'll do me in for sure! Oh God, please, I don't want to die, not like this...!
Mr. Pink was kneeling down beside the bed; Duster heard him undo two latches, like those on a suitcase.
"Hee hee," he giggled, "just the thing, just the thing..."
Mr. Pink stood up; his dark silhouette filled Duster's vision. In front of him he held the strangest contraption that Duster had ever seen.
It looked, vaguely, like a one-piece women's swimsuit. But it was made of thin, shining metal cables, formed into a loose web that resembled a female torso. If it were a swimsuit, it would be most revealing; the many cables that made up the suit all had one to two inch gaps between them.
As Duster studied the strange outfit, details leapt out at her that increased her anxiety. At what was evidently the back of the suit was what looked like a set of manacles, along with a small, rectangular metal box that looked like a battery. In the front, the chest of the suit consisted of two sets, side-by-side, of four metal cables in ever-smaller concentric circles; evidently they were intended to wrap around a woman's breasts. The four cables were held together by four straight cables, one above, one below, one on each side. At each meeting point of the circular and straight cables was a small, circular wheel, into which the cables were bound. These four straight cables met at the smallest circular cable, at each of the two peaks of the perverse bustier; there, protruding from within the cables, were four sharp metal spikes, like talons.
Worse still was the lower portion of the outfit. On the lower rear, another web of cables would cover the wearer's buttocks. Like the cables over the breast area, these too were fastened into circular wheels over the hips. And at the bottom of the contraption... when Duster looked there, she gasped, and her eyes widened in horror. For there were two large, black latex dildos, both covered with insidious ridges, the one in front only slightly larger and longer than the one behind.
All at once, Duster understood the outfit's purpose, and shuddered.
"No... get that thing away from me!" she said, and tried to push herself away from it, and from the leering, perverse little man who held it before her. She could see his wicked grin, shining in the darkness of his unlit face. Light also shone off of his glasses, making them opaque and adding to his inhuman appearance.
But Duster's trembling limbs were still to weak to be of any use to her. She managed to raise her head, and that effort alone exhausted to her. She lay on the bed, her voluptuous body naked, trembling, and helpless.
"They call this suit 'The Stimulator'," Mr. Pink said with mock horror, which again made him giggle. "It's made by a virtual reality start-up in Cupertino. I took the liberty of modifying it just a little. Virtual sex! Hee hee! But it will be real enough for you, my dear! Bailiff, if you please...?" Mr. Pink said over his shoulder.
The hulking form of the bailiff stepped forward to assist Mr. Pink.
"Lucky for you our bailiff's tastes are... ah... more homogeneous, shall we say?" Mr. Pink said with a giggle. "Yes, lucky indeed..."
"Nooooo..." Duster moaned as the two men pulled her legs into the bottom of the horrific outfit. They pulled it up over her shapely calves, over her supple thighs. They spread her legs apart and pressed the two dildos into her, the larger one into her pussy, the slightly smaller one into her anus. They went in easily, as the helpless heroine was still slick with juices from her earlier rapes. Duster gasped as she was, yet again, penetrated and violated; her reaction sent Mr. Pink into a giggling fit. His fingers were cold and made Duster gasp as he groped at her lower extremities. She then felt a tiny suction cup enclose her clitoris.
"OH!" Duster exclaimed, which set Mr. Pink off into another fit of giggles.
"Surprise!" he said. "Didn't notice it before, no, she didn't, did she? Hee hee! She notices it now, though!"
The bailiff then lifted her lower body as Mr. Pink, still giggling, pulled the web of cables over her hips and buttocks.
"No, don't..." Duster pleaded, but her tormentor continued to pull the suit over her naked body. The bailiff pushed her weak, flailing arms through the shoulder straps, and Mr. Pink adjusted her breasts within the two webbed cones, so that her nipples emerged at their peaks. Duster looked down at her chest and whimpered when she saw the metal talons pointing at her tender nipples, ready to strike.
But still they weren't done with her. The bailiff grabbed her shoulders and lifted her into a sitting position. Then Mr. Pink pulled her arms behind her, one at a time. Her right wrist was enclosed in a manacle beneath her left shoulder blade, and her left wrist restrained at her back on the other side, so her arms were bound behind her back, overlapping one another, and leaving her unable to remove the suit from her body. She could feel a small rectangular box just below her arms--the power pack? She tried to grab it, remove it, but she could not.
The bailiff lowered Duster's weak, trembling form back down to the bed, then he stepped away to join the other men watching in the darkness. Mr. Pink stood up, leaving Duster laying on the bed, completely locked into the perverse pleasure suit, her breath coming in terrified gasps now. She watched as Mr. Pink pulled a small hand-held device from his coat pocket.
"Remote controlled, of course," he said. "And the battery lasts for hours! Hee hee! Not that it will take that long... no, not long at all! Goodbye, Duster!"
With that, the perverse little man depressed a button on the remote control, and all at once, the suit came to life.
"YAAAAAHHHHHHH!!" Duster screamed as every erogenous zone in her body seemed to be stimulated at once.
The suit groped and fondled every sensitive part of her like no lover ever could. The small, circular wheels joining the web of cables together were, in fact, tiny servos--pulleys that could tighten and release the cables to squeeze the various parts of her body, especially her ass and her breasts. The cables were coated with tiny fibers that stimulated every nerve, every millimeter of skin they touched, and they were everywhere: over her breasts, her abdomen, her upper thighs, her back, and her ass. At the peaks of her breasts, the small metal spikes behaved just as she'd feared, biting into her sensitive nipples, then releasing them, only to bite again.
"OH GOD!! NOOOOOOO!!!" Duster cried as her nearly-naked body writhed upon the bed in sexual agony.
Inside her loins, the dildos revealed themselves to be vibrators. They hummed away in her pussy and anus, driving the captive crime-fighter mad with pleasure. The Ecstamex variant, still at full strength in her voluptuous body, made her pussy gush around its artificial violator. Meanwhile, the tiny suction cup that enclosed her clit worked that tender nub to distraction, pinching it, sucking it, and pressing it with a steady rhythm.
"UHHH!!! UHHH!! UHHH!!!" Duster grunted in response to the maddening little suction cup's ministrations.
Though only moments before Duster had been too weak to even lift her arm, she now writhed and rolled on the bed, her legs flailing weakly and uselessly. Her back arched, then collapsed, and arched again. Her muscles were screaming in agony, but her loins were crying out in ecstasy. Her large, firm breasts bounced within their confinement, but the cables and the insidious talons torturing the peaks of her breasts remained in place.
"HUH! HUH! HUH! HUH!" Duster panted, her eyes closed, her mouth open wide. Her tousled auburn locks fell across her face and soaked up her sweat. "P-PLEASE!!" she cried, "ST-STOP IT!!"
She heard Mr. White's voice, amused and triumphant: "You brought this upon yourself, superheroine! Now you die... of pleasure!"
"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!" she screamed, but she could feel her exhausted body rising towards climax yet again. Her heart was racing; would it give out, she wondered? Then the talons bit at her nipples again and all thought fled from her mind. There was nothing left for her now but the pleasure, deadly as it was.
"OH GOD! OH GOD! Oh... my... GAAAAWWWWWWDDDDDD!!!"
Duster's eyes clenched shut and she arched her back upwards so only her head and her feet were in contact with the mattress. The orgasm took her, claimed her, body and soul. Her pussy gushed with lubricant; her hands, bound behind her back, clenched into claws. Spittle flew from her luscious mouth.
"UHHHHHHHHHH!!! UHHHHHHHHHH!!! UHHHHHHHHHH!!!" she groaned as she came, hard and repeatedly. Every muscle in her body seemed to tense.
Finally it ended. Her body collapsed onto the bed, bouncing limply. She lay very still for a moment, then wheezed a breath into her aching lungs.
"She survived!" Mr. Blue said.
"That one, yes, hee hee!" Mr. Pink replied. "But not the next one, oh no!"
"No more no more no more no more," Duster whimpered as she lay, utterly spent, upon the bed. Her body was beyond exhaustion, beyond pleasure, beyond pain; she was in some place she had never experienced before, not in all her ordeals as a superheroine. "PLEASE, no more..." she pleaded, and tears spilled from her eyes as sobs wracked her shapely frame.
But the fiendish pleasure suit into which she was bound gave her no respite. Already the servos were again at work, squeezing her sensitive flesh, the vibrators thrumming in her loins, the little suction cup working her clit, the devilish talons tormenting her sensitive nipples.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!" Duster screamed, turning her face into the mattress and sheets as she felt the pleasure suit exert its control over her once again.
And with that one primal scream, all her strength fled her body. She lay limply against the sheets, her brown eyes rolling upwards into her head. Her only movement consisted of twitches and jerks as the suit stimulated her. Her lips parted, and a thin line of drool dribbled from them.
"Hh. Hh. Hh. Hh. Hh," she panted softly as the suit worked her rhythmically, as though her lovely body was an instrument it would play... and destroy.
"This is IT!!" Mr. Pink exclaimed. "This one will take her. Watch!"
Indeed, Duster could feel the orgasm beckoning, and knew it was indeed the one that would claim her life. Would it be so bad, she wondered, through a haze of ecstasy, to die of pleasure? The French called it le petit mort--the little death. This would be le grand mort, the great death, and she welcomed it as an end to her torment. The orgasm, and death itself, yawned beneath her, like a great, black chasm. She let herself slide in...
"Oh. Oh. Oh! Oh! OH! OH!"
"Thus ends the career of the super-slut Duster," Mr. White intoned smugly as he watched Duster's shapely body trembling with its final, orgasmic death throes. "A fitting end..."
She could feel it now, she was on the cusp, the pleasure sharp, pure, and intense like the blade of a knife. Her body froze. A final moan escaped her luscious lips.
"OOOOOHHHHHHHHH..."
Then it was over. It was gone, the suit was gone, the room was gone, she was...
She was swooning, she was utterly limp, she was floating, she was immaterial...
She was in someone's arms... an angel... yes, she was safe in the arms of an angel... oh yes... so strong... so warm...
He was... he was wearing... black... strange, for an angel... and a hood over his head, like a ninja...
So like her Phantom, the Black Phantom, her...
"B-Billy...?" she said weakly.
"Right here, babe," he said.
"H-how..."
But her question was cut off by the loud shouts of men, so angry, but fearful, and then the shots, the gunshots ringing out from the circle of men around them, and she heard the whine of the bullets, but they could not touch her, not with the Black Phantom phasing them both; and she heard the sharp retort of ricochets, and a man's voice shouted out in pain, then another, and another screamed something about holding their fire, until it fell silent, until they all fell silent. Then all she could hear... she only heard one sound... a soft thumping in her ear where it lay against his chest... she heard the beating of her lover's heart. Then she heard another sound, similar... it was... it was the beating of her own heart, strong and steady...
"I... I'm alive..." she whispered.
"Thank God, yes," the Black Phantom said. "It's okay, love. It's over. They're all dead. Let's go home."
She awoke in her bed. Her own bed, in the home she shared with Billy MacIntyre near High Plains City's Telegraph Road. The soft sunlight of a late fall morning was peeking in through the gaps in the drawn blinds. The light caressed her face like a lover's touch, teasing her gently out of sleep.
Candy Roberts took a deep breath, then pushed herself up. She grimaced, and then groaned. Her body still ached from her ordeal. Was it... yesterday? The day before? She didn't even know what day it was, or how long she'd slept.
And the bed was empty. Normally she shared it with...
"Billy?" she called out.
A moment later, the bedroom door opened, and he stood there--her lover, her partner, and yet again, her savior. His muscular frame filled the doorway; his coal-black hair hugged his head in tight curls, his blue eyes shone with the delight of seeing her, and his lips curled into that cocky half-smile, the one-dimpled smile that she loved so much.
"Billy!" she said, her face lighting up with a delighted smile at the sight of him, as it did every morning, but this morning was special; this morning she was alive, she had faced death, she had been...
It all came back to her, what they had done to her; her smile disappeared. Tears welled up in her eyes. Suddenly he was there, sitting on the bed beside her, his big, strong arms wrapped around her slender body as it was racked by sobs. He held her and let her anguish run its course. As her tears began to subside, he kissed them away, until she kissed him back.
"I love you," she said.
"Likewise," he responded, his smile returning, even if it was a little sadder.
There was so much they didn't say, about the life they led, its dangers, how these periodic episodes of capture and violation seemed to be the price they paid for all their successes. And still, neither of them could give it up, any more than they could give up on their love for one another.
"Hey there, sleepyhead!" a young woman's voice called from the doorway. "You ready for breakfast?"
Duster looked over Billy's shoulder and smiled. "Angie!"
Angela DeFranco, her long, raven-black hair framing her lovely face, entered the room, holding a tray of food in front of her shapely frame. "You hungry?" she asked the leader of their crime-fighting trio.
"Famished!" Candy exclaimed, and heartily dug into the tray of toast and eggs as soon as her friend laid it on the bed over her lap.
"Whoah!" Angela said with a laugh. "Don't let your hand get near that tray, Billy, you might lose some fingers!"
After Candy finished her breakfast, Angela sat upon the bed, also beside her, opposite Billy. She tenderly stroked her companion's--and sometime lover's--face.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
"I am now," Candy said with a heavy sigh. She looked at her companions. "How did you guys find me?"
Angela frowned at her. "Uh... telepath, hello!" she replied sarcastically, spreading her arms. Candy rolled her eyes while Billy chuckled.
"We just leaned on several of the Diablos until we found one who knew what had happened to you," he said, "he wouldn't tell us, but he thought it. We just followed the trail to the next guy..."
"...and that was enough for Night Angel, mistress of the dark, and her faithful sidekick, the Black Phantom!" Angela said with the mock solemnity of an old-time radio announcer, making her companions laugh.
"Who were those guys, anyway?" Candy asked.
Billy shrugged. "The usual suspects. A local Mafioso, a buddy of Scarlatti's, no doubt; a couple of Leonard Lane's golf partners, including some whacked-out scientist from Lane Labs... oh, and a former judge who was thrown off the bench for taking bribes, one Leonard Ash."
"Huh," Candy murmured. "I guess that explains the courtroom fetish..."
Angie became serious. "What... what did they do to you? If you don't mind my asking..."
Candy sighed. It was good to get it out, to talk about it. "The usual," she said quietly. "Bondage. Rape. Except this time they gave me some variation of Pervy's sex drug that was supposed to make me orgasm to death. It... it almost worked. If you hadn't shown up when you did," Candy said, clasping Billy's hand and looking deeply into his eyes, then she said nothing more.
The trio was silent for several minutes.
"Kinky..." Angela said, breaking the mood, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Well, I guess if ya gotta go..."
"That is not funny, Angela!" Candy said. But she laughed nonetheless.
FIN