Gold

Return of Rakshasa

Written by Mr. K

Beaten


Thunder was slung up-side-down over a chair. Her torrents of thick black hair poured down to the floor. Her breasts were bare, as the PVC of her costume was torn, and it was either steam or smoke that rose from her vagina. She was out cold.

Golden Bat was also out cold, but levitating in her spread-eagle position. Arms and legs out-stretched, a strange bubble of energy held her floating in midair.

Graviton was just a few feet away from her, face-down on the carpet, limbs limply flung out at her sides. Her supple, prone form still glowed green from what ever force he’d used to fell her.

Across the room, Mystic was folded in fetal position in the wreckage of what had been a wooden table. Her red hair was woven in with splinters and shattered wood.

Eclipse sat against the far wall like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and whose puppeteer had tossed her away. Her legs were spread, and her arms hung limply. Her head was sagged, her face lost in a blond veil. The wall bore an indent behind her.

Scorpio, her red costume in tatters, was on her back, spread-eagle, eyes closed.

Neutron hung from the ceiling, her long red hair wrapped in the blade of the overhead fan. It still moved, lethargically dragging the weight of her limp, athletic body around and around in space. Her red skin-tight costume dripped moisture.

Excaliber had been turned to stone. She stood at relaxed attention, a curvaceous statue in the middle of the living room chaos. Eyes open, pert sensuous lips parted, she was a monument to sudden defeat.

Only a few steps behind her, Arachnae mirrored her. Instead of stone, though, the beautiful brunette was an ice sculpture. Her flesh, bone, sinew, everything was now ice.

I stood in the wreckage, the landscape of broken heroines, untouched, and looked at my new master. His power hummed in the air around me, and I knew my weakness. His power flowed through the very air, and I knew him as force of nature, more powerful than I could ever comprehend. His magic could devour mine.

“As I was saying before your friends interrupted. I’ve come back for you,” smiled Rakshasa. He was so cool, so impeccable in his British clothes. There was no sign in the demeanor of this reclining man that he had just wiped out a small army of superheroines. His hubris had grown since I last met him.

“Yes,” I said.

I looked around again. Just like he had predicted, they felt him come through the dimensional portal, and they came to do battle. One moment, I was in the farm house, preparing to be taken by Rakshasa, the next he was there, and the next half the superheroines in town were crowding into the place, materializing, coming through the window, kicking through the door.

Now they were all defeated, and I was his.

I stand six feet tall. In the high heels of my costume’s boots, I add three inches to that. Some compare my body to that of an Olympian - a beach volley ball player. My muscles stand out in striking definition, thick and sculpted, I’ve been told. I have large breasts and a strong muscular frame in my upper body. I have the broad back of a swimmer, with the toned, powerful limbs to go with it.

I am blond. Sometimes shorter, sometimes longer, my hair usually forms a thick drape across my shoulders.
My costume is not spandex. I don’t wear tights. A magical liquid forms a sheath over my body. It is somewhere among nakedness, a tattoo, and liquid latex. It’s color is gold.

That’s me. I’m Gold. I was the one who was untouched by his attack, and I was the one for whom he came. He told me over and over the first time we met how “perfect” I was. I said how important it was for him to have me.

He was an good-looking guy. Handsome, I suppose. Indian. Poised and British his manners.That was one version of him. The other was huge creature, part man and part tiger, still beautiful in its way. It radiated magic and brutality.

“Did you miss me, Gold?” he laughed.

Images of the beating he’d given me when we first met flowed through my mind. He sent minions to fuck me, chained me, covered me in sperm, and used my magic as a platform for his. He turned other heroines into puppets, and used them to beat me.

His power was overwhelming then, and seemed god-like now. He had defeated some of the most powerful heroines on Earth by simply blinking his eyes, and how he held me in a psychic grip. Defeating him seemed out of the question.

“You missed me,” he beamed. “Walk to the bathroom. I want to give you a gift.”

He gave me back the use of my body, and compelled me to walk to the bathroom. I was so aware of my body, for some reason : my hips swayed, arms swung smoothly. I walked, a prisoner of this man.

“Go to the shower stall.”

I had no choice. The high heels of my boots clicked against the white tile of the shower stall.

“Lean forward,” he told me. “Press your body up against the wall. Let you breasts mash against the tile. I want to see them spread out to the sides as you press into the wall. There ... good.”

I did as told. I felt the mass of my large breasts spreading out to the sides. He was playing with me.

“Uh, press your palms against the wall. Good. Now thrust your backside out to me. You’re such an obedient women. Right ... thrust that tight ass back and spread your legs. Mmmmm. I love those legs. Shapely, muscles ... nice. Wider, please.”

I strained. He took hold of my hips, paused, then took a breath. Those hands felt massive, powerful, and with my will sapped, all could do was give into them. He’d fucked me before. I’d sucked his cock. I’d nearly-drowned in his cum. But now he was taking me with an ease and power that was something new. As the massive head and the thick, wide shaft split my peach and entered, I arched my back and took a deep inhalation. In a second, he was in me to the hilt, and I was being fucked. I clenched my teeth, fought the beast as best I could, but broke a moment later, and screamed in that tile echo chamber. That was about the last inch of free will I had left.

“Do you like that?” he asked coolly. I said that I did, ending my response with “master.” My words sank under my panting, grunting, and screaming. Each stroke was superhuman. Every stroke made my sopping pussy actually gush; I could hear the juice drip out of me and hit the shower floor with a wet snap.

“Then you’ll really love the trick I learned while I was away.”

His grip became tighter as he held his prick deep in my vagina, and reared back. There was the sound of skin stretching and sinew lengthening. A dull pressure moved against my anus, then became sharp and acute as a second, huge prick forced its way it my tight asshole. He had grown a second prick, and entered my asshole. It was a huge as the last, and lengthening in my body. Pain wedded itself to the ecstasy of my cunt, and my screaming was something unearthly.

My fingertips scraped the tile, my super strength driving the tips through the tile.

Now the pumping started again, as Rakshasa used two pricks to double fuck my ass and pussy at once. Merciless friction. Deep penetration.

“Like that, Gold? Like my new trick?”

His magic, his power, his sex was overwhelming.

As I screamed, I thought about how I got here. It was so easy for him to trap me.


Beginning


I pressed my booted right foot down on the gas and allowed myself to smile. This was turning out to be a great day. The autumn foliage was sweeping by in a blur of color, and the air was just crisp enough to be like a big bite from a really good apple.

An hour down the road, the gas station guy had flirted with me. He checked out my figure, my hips in tight jeans, my curves and bust in a form-hugging sweater, and offered to give me the gas for free. I paid him and blew a kiss.

Now I was close to my sanctuary. I was going to spend a few days in the farmhouse of one of the Elders. My order of magic users is headed by women who are rumored to be timeless and and whose power is infinite. They are scattered around the world, waiting to dole out knowledge to women like me, when the time is right ... when their powers are at their prime.

I’d just returned to my apartment after capturing Thorne the umpteenth time, when I found an elegant hand-written card that had been slid under my door. Before I even read it , I felt the stock of the paper and knew. It was time.

I’d battled villains back-to-back for weeks. There was Grendel. Obsidian. The Wizard. Scylla and Charibdis. The Roadmaster ... my only defeat. I had hardly spent any time as Tracy, and I was glad to be back in civies.

Something warm and placid came over me as I pulled my car into the driveway of the quaint farm house. When I smelled hay, and manure, when I saw the sun setting behind a rickety old barn, when I saw smiling people coming out to greet me, I knew that I’d found sanctuary.

At one point in the weeks proceeding that moment, I was fighting three foes at once. I was using muscle and magic to grab the first, toss him into the second, pin a third to the wall, and go back to the first who was starting to get up again. At one point, Roadmaster was dragging me behind his motorcycle. My ankles were wrapped in a chain that joined me to his thick torso; seven feet of steel links extended from my captured legs to his waist. As he drove faster and faster, only my superheroine body protected me from death. As the cycle turned into sleek flying machine, taking us both high above the city, I heard him call back over his shoulder, mocking me.

I needed time out.

“You must be Tracy,” called the older woman from the porch. Her voice was throaty, and trickled down like a back rub. That dusky sun caught in her ash-blond hair as she swayed forward in a peasant skirt. She was the Elder. Probably hundreds of years old, in reality.

Behind her was a young man. Handsome. Tall. He had a natural fitness, the type of muscle that comes from bailing hay, not from machines. A tanned, spry girl trailed a step behind him. Her blond hair was twisted into dramatic dreads.

“Hello. Yes. I’m Tracy. “

“Then you are Gold, the heroine. Welcome. It’s an honor.”

The young man looked me up and down, smiled, and introduced himself.

“I’m Richard. This is Cindy.”

The girl grinned, and curtsied with an imaginary skirt. I figured they were new students of magic. He was one of the rare men of our coven.

They took my bags and whisked me into the house, where a meal was already on the table. Again, this feeling of placid comfort washed over me. I could smell food, feel warmth. I had no desire to ever leave this place.

“We figured that before we got down to the whole magic thing, we could have dinner and some wine,” the old woman smiled. They opened a bottle of red, and we each ended up with a glass. We raised them with a Scandinavian salute, and sipped. It must have been a minute or so later that I knew.

“You’ve poisoned me.” I said, considering the glass. They all smiled, and nudged each other.

“Yes, love. We needed you compliant for when he came. He wanted to play it out this way.”

I wasn’t drowsy, but my muscles felt sluggish. They knew my weaknesses; anything that screws with my nervous system buggers my magic. I was back in defensive mode. The security was gone, and I was unable to do anything about it.

The room was swaying, and my captors were smiling.

“So, I take it you are not the people I came to meet.”

“That’s right,” laughed the young man. “We don’t really even exist.”

“We’re mere projections of Rakshasa’s energy. He’s still in another dimension. The Energy Realm. Think of us as his forward guard ... meant to capture you. And we’ve done our job.”

They laughed and drank again.

Rakshasa. Images of how he used my body as an alter to focus his power came back to me, and I shuddered. That was how he passed to the other side, promising to come back for me.

I put the glass down, as the woman raised her hands and projected her magic into me. I stood there helplessly as she turned me from Tracy to Gold. Suddenly, my clothes morphed into my golden second skin and high-heeled boots.

“Must have you dressed properly for when he arrives. Go to the back porch. And here, wear this.”

She tossed a red rubber ball gag to me. This was certainly Rakshasa working through these beings. A being with almost unlimited power, he was still a man with the kinky inclinations of a man. He could still my tongue with magic, but he wanted to see me put the gag on. I did as told, taking the gag by its straps, pulling it tightly between my lips and fastening the leather bands behind my head. The ball was big and heavy in my mouth, holding my jaw open, pressing my tongue down. I looked up at my captors.

“Good, now go to be shackled. You’ll find your bindings on the porch.”

I strode to the back porch, the young man behind me, the ball gag in my mouth. There was no gun at my back, no chains on me. I was a tall blond in her golden skin, walking under her own power to be imprisoned. I was the heroine in peril again.
Two weeks before this, I was in chains, and at the mercy of Roadmaster. Tight, sloppily done chains coiled around my ankles, wove between my legs, wrapped tightly around my big thighs and small waist. He’d chained my arms to my sides, and he’d also used a ball gag. A massive, muscular biker with a thick beard, a long mustache, and the worst mullet I’d ever seen, he called me “his new old lady”, put me across his lap as he straddled the big motorcycle, and drove me off to be held captive in his garage.

He kept me in an animal cage, chained in fetal position.

Again, I was a captive.

The sun was oozing down a perfect country scene, dripping orange-red fingers between the branches of the trees that surrounded the house. I walked across the wood, high heels against worn porch, and stood between the pillars. Two sets of shackles awaited my wrists.

Just behind me was the handsome young man.

“Spread your arms, “ he ordered. Resistance was useless; I spread my arms, and my heart sank as I heard and felt the cuffs capture my wrists. I stood there, arms outstretched in bonds, and watched the sun set. They had me. Powers neutralized, muscles sluggish, they had me.

“You’ll need this, as well.”

He reached up, pulled something down, and soon my head was secured in a harness that held it in place. He chuckled as his hands cupped my breasts. He felt exactly like Roadmaster as he groped me with those overzealous hands.

“This isn’t working out the way you thought it would, eh Gold? Now, when Rakshasa passes through, the energy surge will alert all of those heroine friends of yours who know about him. They will come. He will kill them.”

I squirmed, grunting against the ball gag, as his big hands played with my breasts. It wasn’t that I trying to break free; I was just reacting to his hands on my practically bare breasts. He seemed to almost be weighing them, enjoying their mass and fullness. He pressed them up from below, hefting them. One, than the other. He was hard, and could have fucked me, but walked around, and looked me in the eye.

“You’ll be his.”


Golden Slaves


Rakshasa could have fucked me for days in that shower stall, going without rest or nourishment, until I was dead. Instead, he used me for only a few minutes more, then pushed me off his cocks. I huffed as I fell to all fours.

“You look like a dog down there,” he laughed. He groaned, and a double shower of hot cum splashed my back. They had the power of a garden hoses.I was still, and accepted the familiar feeling of being doused in his spunk. This was his way of saying I was beaten, and that he could do what he wanted. A puddle was forming around me.

“Look up, “ he said. I turned my face up, and caught his streams in the eyes and mouth. Just as I remembered it was scalding hot, only now tasted sweet and spicy. What was this? Why did Rakshasa’s sperm now seem like spiced chai? I opened my mouth like a kid at a spigot, trying to catch my new master’s jizz in my mouth.

The shower ended with a sigh from him, and I sank my head back down. Semen clung in my hair and ran down my face. The strange spicy smell filled my head.

“Lick it up, Gold.”

No questions. No hesitations. I leaned down, and licked up what cum had splattered the bathroom floor. Slow licks. I was something between a porn star and a puppy, with my messy, thick blond hair hanging down, and my long tongue scooping up my captor’s semen. I wanted to feel anger, rage .... I saw images of myself fighting him, but I all could sense was a type of dutiful sense of commitment. My master had ordered. His mere presence had broken my will.

I scooped some more, and swallowed.The taste was filling my head. I pressed my lips to the floor, and sucked a small puddle into my mouth with a loud slurp.

“Good, now wipe your face with your hair.”

As I was following orders, I listened to the smooth tone of his voice.

“ I projected my powers out while I was fucking you. When you’re done, I want to take you to see what I’ve done with them.”

“You’ve killed them all? Executed them?” I asked. I felt a pale sense of anger and pain rise in me. It filtered away quickly. I was empty.

“No. You’ll see. Lick your fingers clean.”

I stood, my costume and hair defiled with spunk, and put my fingers in my mouth. He looked me up and down, his eyes eating me up like a pastry. He looked at my big breasts, my hips, my long legs, and he struck me. It was a stinging back hand that snapped my head to the side. He did it again, then wrapped his hands around my throat , and began squeezing.

“I love hearing your breathing stop,” he laughed. There was an angry intensity in his voice, as my lungs began to burn, and my head began to swim. He lifted me, then carried me, suffocating, out through the house. My feet never touched the ground until we were in the yard.

Where there had been open space, there was a huge, beautiful, African tree. It’s roots grew above ground, and it’s branches seemed to go on forever, reaching into the sky. It was bigger than the house. He had created this with his powers while he fucked me.

There they were. Not executed. Not dead. Not alive. Each voluptuous woman, in her costume, in her high-heeled boots and mask,was now an ornament. Every strand of hair was drawn up, twisted and woven into the branches of the tree, melded with veins and the sinew of the fronds. Their eyes were partially closed.

A slight wind blew, and their ripe bodies swayed.

“They are now a part of the tree of pain,” he said with reverence for his work. “Nobody but us can see this tree. People driving by can only see the farm house. Isn’t that great? It’s all invisible. Aren’t they great? Oh ... I saved one.”

He snapped his fingers, and Golden Bat came around the side of the house.

“I figured you’d want to play with her. I see her as a daughter figure for you. A neat set of golden bookends, eh?”

He was right. She was twenty-two years old, young enough to be my daughter, I suppose. And she looked like me, in her golden spandex cat suit, and golden high-heels. She was blond, with peaches-and-cream skin, and the same solid, lean, athletic build. She was shorter, but just as defined, and developed. She was just as curved. She was just as under his control right then and there.

The sun glinted and shimmered on her golden body stocking as she walked to me like a runway model. Her eyes looked dead as they met mine.

“I serve him too,” she mumbled.

“I know,” I said. We had both been prisoners of Ms. V a year before all of this, and I knew that being enslaved was not something the lithe, young blond would take to without being powerfully overwhelmed. Ms. V had both of her stretched on a rack, and giggled playfully as the medieval wheels creaked against her spread and chained body. Her breasts thrust forward for Ms.V’s henchmen to fondel, she gritted her teeth and moaned as the machine stretched her limbs and her spine.
I was on the platform of a crusher; a huge metal plate poised over my bound form. One push of a button would drop the thing on me.

“Just say it, Bat,” she smiled. “Just say that you’re my little bitch, and I’ll let the two of you go.”

Golden Bat hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck you!”

It was only when she threatened to crush me that Golden Bat fell to her knees, said she was Ms. V’s “little bitch”, and accpeted a dog collar and leash.

“Now, sweety, kiss your mistress.”

Golden Bat set her jaw with anger, crawled around, and kissed her captor’s leather-clad ass.

Now, Rakshasa had Golden Bat tamed.

“I want to see the lesbian show again,” he said. The last time I was his prisoner, he had me eat superheroine pussy. Golden Bat reached out, cupped my mound, and began to knead it between her fingers. My excitemnt was instant. A woman’s fingers always do it for me, and Golden Bat seemed to know just where to go when probing my cunt. She held my pussy open, and massaged. Something drove me, and took hold of her breasts. Hard nipples.

Golden Bat’s nubile breasts were swollen, and seemed to almost pluse in my hands. Though I was a captive, I felt my pussy tingling with joy, and my rhythm picking up as I saw her head tilt back, and heard her breathing pick up. There was a moment when I adored him for making me this way. I just drowned in the sex, and welcomed another orgasm.

“Remember this toy?” he asked me. I now realized that Golden Bat was holding a doll in her hand. It was blond, and wore a golden costume. This was the voodoo doll he’d used to torture me during his last visit. It was Scorpio and Thunder who’d been under control that time, and Scorpio’s vagina was the tool of my torment.

“Remind her of what I gave her last time.”

With that, Golden Bath reached into her crotch, pinched as much skin-tight spandex as she could, and tore out a patch. It was enough to expose the lush, thick delta between her thighs. Just as Scorpio had, she took a wide stance, aimed the voodoo representation of me at her sex, and pressed it home. I watched my blond head disappear up her sopping snatch, and sex washed over me. I feel to my knees, masturbating furiously. Once again, my tortured, quivering pussy was juicy, covering my fingers with dew. I rode the ripples of sex, cumming over and over.

“I could kill you, Gold. And I will. But I will do it slowly, and I want you to beg for it of your own free will. I have your mind now. What’s the sport in that? I have created challenges for you. I have created minions. They will meet you, and defeat you one by one. They will make you give up the will to carry on. When you are broken, you need only speak my name, and I will come to finish you. After defeat after defeat, you will be on your knees, broken, and you will beg me to kill you.

And as you die, know that these women are being melded with the tree forever.

Of course, if you happen to beat any of them, I will release a woman or two. I think we both know that that will never happen.”

Her pumping became deep and frantic as she shoved me up, up, up into her young cunt. Her eyes were still dreamy with ecsatcy, as I, with my arms and legs, pinned, felt the suffocating heat of her pussy comsume me.

The last thing I saw, was the captive girl masturbating, and tiger man laughing.