GOLD

The Magic of Rakshasa

Written by Mr K

I put the book back on the shelf and huffed a long exasperated breath. I was bored. I was Tracy, and I was bored. Being Gold was one thing - always in the thick of things and in motion -but being Tracy allowed me to be just another tall blond who got hit on a lot. The night before I browsed the romances of that bookstore, I was Gold and in the middle of it all. I rounded up thugs who’d kidnapped an heiress. I stopped a bank robber with an AK47. I even got into it with a new super villian, meeting and battling a young lady calling herself Silver. She was tall and full-bodied-muscular like me. Just like me, she wore an all-in-one body sheath that gleamed like wet metal, only hers was silver.

Her magic was strong, and she left me helpless twice. At one point, she shot sliver light from her finger tips that took the solid form of sliver cords as it ensnared me. It wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my sides. She then used my body as a toy, snapping me here and there, back and forth until she finally smashed me through a wall of an office building. I was sprawled on the floor of the place, freed of the coils, but dazed. I couldn’t resist as she shot me with another burst of silver energy and knocked me out cold. Browsing through the book store, I could still feel the shackles that held me down in spread-eagle position and the outline of the massive dildo she produced from that same silver light.

She beat me, she fucked me, but I finally put her lights out and sent her packing.

This was my down time. I have to spend some time as Tracy for my powers as Gold to stay primed and strong. So, here I was.

This was an old familiar bookstore. In a basement, rife with dust and age, the beauty of the place rested in stacks and stacks of used titles that were piled half-way to the ceiling. I’d been shopping there for years, and knew each tight little corner. I knew each smell and each line in the dear face of the sweet old man who worked behind the desk. I knew this place and that old man better that any other corner of the city.

I knew he knew I was Gold.

The first time that I walked into the place, he was reading a thick dusty tome on the Cruets of Odin. Those are the decanters that gave the women of my circle their powers. When it becomes time to become Gold, I don’t slip on a spandex body suit like most heroines. Thinking an incantation’s words, I tilt the bottle over my face. A golden flow - a glowing sheath of magic - courses down over me. Liquid, it conforms to each detail of my naked body. Boots with high heels form. A mask molds itself across my eyes and cheeks. If I am clothed when I do it, my street clothes simply go away. My costume is more of a tattoo than clothing. Each toned contour of my body can flow freely in that golden sheath.

That day, I was in regular street clothes. Brown leather boots, tan tights, and a tight brown wool sweater adorned me as I browsed.

It must have been about an hour into my browse when he walked in. The old man perked up as a exceptionally well-groomed, handsome Indian man walked into the store. The suit was definitely Hong Kong-tailored. The hair, mustache, nails .... everything was acutely groomed. He smiled to the old bookkeeper and began to weave his way through the shelves. It took only a minute or so for him to end up in front of me.

“Find anything good?” he asked with an accent that blended London and New Delhi.

Something in my senses was humming. Danger.

“A few pieces on ....”

He cut into my sentence.

“Magic.”

I was silent. He knew.

“I too am interested in magic. We should talk, eh? Maybe I could take you out to dinner.”

This was wrong. Again, I said nothing.

“Think about it. I’m sure we’ll meet again. You will be kind and willing enough to help me with my study of magic.”

Still smiling coolly, he turned on his heel and almost glided out of the store. Chilled by his insight, a lump in my throat, I watched him go. When I turned, the old shop keeper was looking at me, wide-eyed.

“You might like this book,” he said, holding up a leather-bound book.

“I ... uh ... I don’t think I’m up for buying anything ....”

“Oh, I think you’ll want to see this.”

I moved closer as he turned the book around for me to see. On the facing page there was a lurid, somewhat off-putting drawing of a humanoid tiger eating human flesh. The text of the companion page was titled RAKSHASA.

“You can have this on the house.”

Three nights later, after I read the book, after my powers were back up to snuff, I rocketed over the city lights, my arms stretched out in the classic super hero flying pose. I tend to fly with my arms at my side, but tonight just felt especially heroic. No real reason.

I had been pondering this Rakshasa creature, and assuming the old bookkeeper wanted me to read it because the I was going to confront some new threat in the form of this creature. It was some sort of shape-shifting vampire from Indian folklore. Sometimes in the form of beautiful humans, sometimes in the shape of massive tigers, sometimes somewhere in between, they were supposed to be magical being that sewed destruction and discord among humans. In the wake of the terror, they would feast on the flesh of the dead. I wondered what this had to with the man in book store.

Soon, I’d find out. Very soon.

There was a flash of magic that ran through me. Normal humans can’t feel such things ... or don’t understand them ... but, it acted like a beacon to me. There was powerful magic at work somewhere in the city. I arched my body right and flew to its starting point. Five seconds, at the most, passed, and I found myself zeroing in on the roof of the Bainridge apartments. Damn! I just can’t escape this place, I thought I glided in to land on the poshly furnished pool deck that was the roof of the place.

Only a few weeks earlier I had been given the beating of my life on the roof of this place. A group of punks - just average losers who made a living swiping pocket books and the like - were the ones who did it. Given magic powers by a villain I had yet to track down, they emerged as a powerful super powered force called the Skeleton Crew. They changed their m.o. to stealing big expensive crap, but they still wore those stupid skeleton suits and masks.

They beat me and captured me on the roof of that place. Each of the twelve skeletons punched and kicked me, doling out massive electric shocks each time a fist or foot contacted my muscular body. Each shock rattled my nervous system, leaving me unable to use my powers. They beat me with their fists, feet, and the furniture that was nearby. I finally passed out below their drubbing. When I awoke hours later, I was a prisoner.

Little did I know, this new visit to this roof would involve me in chains, again.

As I dropped to the fake turf of the pool deck, I saw the root of the magic flash and I saw how tough this was going to be.
Thunder was on her back, legs spread and arms out-stretched. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth open, and her whole body seemed to steam. Thunder’s body was a landscape of defeat. Long, full-busted, muscular and lean like me, she was a dusky brown woman who could generate the power of a lightning strike in a fight. The awesome power was a tragic gift. If lightning had not struck a pregnant woman on a rainy street in London, there would be no Thunder, only an average woman. But lightning did strike. A woman died, and her daughter became one of the world’s most powerful heroines. That power was dormant now. In her skin-tight, purple PVC second-skin costume, she lay beaten on the rooftop. He was finished with her.

Now he was ministering to Scorpio. The sleek Japanese woman in her midnight black and purple was at his mercy. She wasn’t battered. She wasn’t crushed. She was simply overwhelmed. He had placed her on a table, spread her legs, and now she was willingly ...joyfully ... taking in the massive girth of his cock. With legs flung open, one hand on his shoulder, and her head tilted back the raven-haired Asian heroine cried out in ecstasy as Rakshasa, in his hulking tigerman form, fucked her like a machine.

“Oh, God ... yes!” she screamed.

His hips pumped.

“Fuck me, Rakshasa!”

The powerful heroine, who controlled powers of the sign of Scorpio, screamed out in the night air. Scorpio was born of the very cosmic essence of existence - sex and death. For her to be taken in this way would mean an unbelievable villain was making his presence felt.

“Yes! Har ... harder! MMMMMM!”

His prick was so massive that he could barely fit it all into her tight box. I could see several inches never disappearing into the open, dripping sex between her thighs.

Rakshasa was fucking her.

I swooped in to knock the villain away from Scorpio. Only a breath away, he stopped me cold. Holding up a palm, he projected a blast of energy that sent me sailing back. It also animated the chains that lay around on the patio. They were meant to hold the deck furniture in place, but were now becoming weapons. As my tall frame went sailing back, the chains did their work, capturing my wrists and pinning them to my sides, wrapping themselves around my waist like a tight belt, coiling down between my thighs, forming a sort of chastity belt. Chains squeezed themselves up into my crotch, digging in between my labia until my pussy began to painfully drip.

My wrists were chained together down at my waist. Chains formed a tight belt around my waist and between my thighs. Steel was squeezed tightly through my liquid costume and between my pussy lips. With no control of my own, I could only moan as my cunt gave a powerful squirt of thick juice. The steel links were digging into my sex, pressing my clit, wringing cunt juice and deep moans from me. The steel pulled up tight between my buttocks, digging at my anus as it formed a thong backing for my new steel garment.

These were the same chains the Skeleton Crew used to beat me. Just like then, ordinary chains flowed with power and made me helpless. I was helpless. Rage welled up in me, but I quickly stamped it down. If I was going to prevail, I would
have to find a way to focus and get my energies in the right rhythm. I let go of my panic and used my whole being to shoot a burst of energy at Rakshasa. There was a momentary rise in my heart when I saw his body take the blast and glow gold.

He never stopped fucking Scorpio.

He never turned to me.

He simply glowed gold, and projected my energy back at me.

The stream of power coiled itself into a slim bean and went right into my breasts. Already stimulated, I was helpless as my body betrayed me, exploding with an orgasm that momentarily blacked me out. I was only disconnected for a second - not even long enough to fall. That was enough.

Rakshasa’s next burst of power sent me sailing back against the chain link fence. Another length of chain leapt up, wrapping around my throat and chaining me to the fence. I was pinned and helpless. Gasping, dripping, I watched as he finished Scorpio, fucking her to orgasm and letting her limp, satisfied body drop. She fell in a fetal heap at his feet. He lifted her like a rag, and tossed her on the table again.

“Your turn, Gold.”

Rakshasa didn’t fuck me that night. He could have done anything to me, but he didn’t fuck me. He didn’t kill me. With that massive weapon of his rubbing at my chained crotch, and me lashed to the pipe by my throat, he moved close and took hold of my breasts. Just like Silver had days before, he spent several minutes just feeling me. I’m large-breasted, with big nipples that jut forward when I’m stimulated. They are clearly discernible through the golden body sheath and seem to attract my captors. Succubus loves them. She told me once, when I was stretched across her knee, limp and sodden, that she wanted nothing more than to “devour those perfect breasts”. Just like Rakshasa, she had beaten me and could have killed me. Instead, she kneaded my breasts and sucked the hard nipples through my costume. Just like then, I was as tortured and beaten as I was turned on. With the chain rubbing my clit, and this powerful cloud of sexual magic surrounding him, Rakshasa had me captured and on the verge of becoming totally willing to be fucked. Just like Scorpio and Thunder, I was about to beg for cock.

“What do you think, Gold? Think your friends there had a good evening?” He gestured at the two fallen, purple-clad women. Scorpio, whose control of sexual magic usually left her immune to such attacks, was draped backwards over that metal table, arms and legs out-stretched, head slung back. She wore a dazed and happy expression. Thunder was just as he had left her. His powers had created a need, then he’d surfeited it with his cock.

Now I was struggling to keep it together as he massaged my sensitive breasts, squeezed my cunt with the chains, and flooded me with this secretagogue sexual power of his.

“What are you?” I hissed. I could barely speak. I was so overwhelmed by the need for sex, all I could do was try to muster words. Even Succubus’ sexual attacks weren’t this bad. I was willing to be a slave, right then and there.

“Do you want what they had?”

He squeezed my breasts expertly. He pulled them up into peaks, pressed them together, rubbed my big nipples until I screamed.

“YES!”

It came from deep inside. It made my legs tremble and my whole body shake. Shameful and wanton, I broke against my own libido and screamed so that the whole city could hear.

“FUCK ME! YES! MAKE ME LIKE THEM!”

His laughing drowned out my sexual pleadings. With one quick swipe, he ripped out a hank of my hair. The next motion of his hand stroked his tool and sent a shot of cum squarely into my mouth. On the roof that night, I swallowed the sweetest-tasting spunk of my life.

Rakshasa left me that way. His hands moved from my breasts and he stepped back, smiling. He had what he wanted. I knew that he was more powerful than I, and that he could manipulate me. He had shown me who was in charge. Scooping up Thunder and Scorpio - one over each shoulder - he winked at me and vanished in a puff of sweet-smelling smoke.

I hung in those chains, screaming to be fucked until the feeling subsided and I passed out. Once I awoke and pulled myself together, the chains were easy enough to break. The chain of defeats by Rakshasa would be much harder.

When the Skeleton Crew defeated me it was with a brutal beating. Their fists were electrified with infused magic and they put me down with a physical pummeling like I’d never had before. Then they carried me off. Slung over one of their shoulders, limp arms hanging and swaying, blond hair pouring down his back, I was carried by the big one as the others laughed and clapped at my defeat.

In and out of consciousness, I heard fragments of their conversations.

“Are we gonna kill her?”

“Let’s fucking rape her!”

“Let’s use the powers on her some more.”

“You know what we’re supposed to do.”

The thing that stuck out in my head was that when they finally got me back to their lair - which was a cluttered, suburban basement - they didn’t need to tie me. They sat me in a chair, slapped me around, felt me up, came on me, played with me, but didn’t tie me. They didn’t need to bind me. There was no escape for me. If I tried to move, fight, use magic, anything, they would beat me with those empowered blows. I would be so dowsed in pain, all I could do was be a “good girl” , like they said.

They sat me in a chair and surrounded me. Things are fuzzy, but I remember them interrogating me. They circled me with candles and rubbed my body with some sort of ointment. Big hands smeared the clear jelly on my face, my big breasts, my tight abs, my muscular thighs, my broad back, my developed arms, and every other inch of me with this strange, mystical goo. No matter how strong my body was, I was helpless. It smelled sweet and lulled me to the edge of sleep. They asked me things. I simply answered. They ordered. I obeyed.

Rakshasa was the same way. He didn’t need to tie me to be in charge. He just needed to exist. Chaining me on the roof was just meant to prove a point. The next attack was mean to prove a point as well.

To better understand this I would have to meditate.

Back in my apartment, back as Tracy again I sat down in circle of crystals. This was how I flushed out issues and found the insight I need to be Gold. Nude, surrounded by light, I conjured questions and images. Whose powers were anything like Rakshasa’s?

Not Succubus. Her power was centered, while his seemed to come from everywhere.

Not Silver. She was a match, but I was ultimately more powerful.

What about the Rook? He defeated me by knowing every move I was going to make about two steps ahead. His mind reading was limited, but it was enough for him to beat me in that abandoned apartment building. Dressed in his purple body suit and dashing from the shadows, he connected his fist my jaw perfectly. My body flew, a wall collapsed, and the lights went out in my head. As I was rising, shacking the fuzz out of my brain, he was already picking me up by the throat and throwing me, head-first, toward the open elevator shaft. I fell for a few seconds, regained myself, and began to fly up the shaft. True to his nature, Rook had already cut the cable of the elevator, which was suspended high on the upper floor of the building. As I went up, it came down. Before I could feel the pain, I heard the crash of my rocketing golden form hitting the dropping steel box.

The Rook had been one step ahead during our entire fight, leaving me knocked out and pinned below the wreckage of the elevator car. This new case was similar, but Rakshasa’s power was something even deeper.

After some rest and rejuvenation, I went back to see the old man. I had read the book, and understood Rakshasas were totally evil vampiric shape-shifters. Their folklore said that they commanded great magic powers and that they sowed discord among humans. They commanded the basest drives of humans. This I understood. What I needed to know was what this villain’s weakness were and how to track and confront him. Dressed in black heels, black tights, a form hugging black blouse and a leather motorcycle jacket, I went back to the book store and stood in front of the old man’s desk.

“This new acquaintance of mine,” I began.

He cut me off.

“The foible will be revealed. His weakness will show through in a golden moment. It will be an ordeal, though.”

“You mean ....?”

I stopped when I saw his face change. It suddenly occurred to me that I was strangely warm and weak. I looked down to see a huge wet spot growing in my crotch. My pussy was pouring again. For no apparent reason, I was again taking on the sex rush. I became suddenly aware of torrents of pussy juice gushing between my legs, and my nipples were hard. I was panting.

“He is doing this to you, yes?”

I knew that he was.

“Yes. And he’s drawing me to him. He wants me to go to him now. How does he know how to control me so well?”

He was about to answer, but stopped as he saw me being drawn out of the place. He could only watch as I stumbled out the back of the store. Walking on my own, I followed a command that only I could hear. If I could have stopped, I would have. I produced the bottle, hid in the shadows of the store’s back doorway, and became Gold. The rushings would not stop, even as I donned the golden sheath - my heroic second skin. I tried to concentrate to fly, but my nervous system was so jangled and focused on sex that all I could do was masturbate. I straddled a hand rail on the store’s back stairs, gripped down with both hands, and began to hump the bar. Almost instantly I was cumming. This was it for me. He somehow had my will and I was nothing but a woman drenched in sex. As soon as the cumming was done, I flew to meet him. I had no choice.

There is a sex warehouse in our city. As big as an airplane hanger, it is a gigantic store of adult toys. I’ve wandered there as Tracy. Now I was being drawn there as Gold. I flew for him. Maneuvered through the night for him. I landed on the roof of this place and slipped through a skylight for him. There, in the vast, stygian darkness, with towers of boxes and crates all around, he was waiting. Again, he was in his huge, tigerman form.

“Hello, Gold.”

He was sitting in a circle of candles identical to the one set up by the Skeleton Crew. In one claw, he held a small, golden doll. It was a perfect female form with large breasts and long, muscular limbs. Her golden costume was an all-in-one glossy, wet-look cat suit. A hank of my hair was wrapped around her. A smile broadened on his face when he saw me looking at the voodoo doll.

“That’s right, Gold. It’s you. I’ve mastered all sorts of magic, and I’m enjoying using them all on you. I channeled my will through this doll to you as easily as I gave those skeleton idiots the powers they used to take you and find out your secrets and the secrets of every other super heroine.”

Now it was clear.

“I studied magic. I learned these ways. I became Rakshasa. I created minions to do my bidding. I made you come her.

Who is in control, Gold?”

I found myself standing stiffly at attention. I spoke with a strain voice.

“You are.” I strained some more and produced a question. “Why don't you just kill me?”

“Oh, Gold. The ultimate point of my undertakings will kill you. Don’t be deluded about that. I want you to pass some tests first. I want chances to see what sort of magic you have, and I want to have some fun. I will use you. Then I will kill you.”

He snapped his fingers, and I saw his power again. Walking like robots ... lithe, firm, perfectly shaped robots ... Scorpio and Thunder walked from the shadows. Both had blank expressions on their faces. Both had the crotches torn out of their skin-tight costumes.

“Here, love. Show Gold your new trick,” said Rakshasa as he passed the doll to Scorpio. The lean Asian woman took the doll, looked at him, and looked at me.

“He has control, Tracy. I can’t stop this.”

She began to masturbate with the doll. I watched helplessly as the thick blond hair and perfect hour glass form of the body disappeared into her sopping pussy. She held the legs of the doll, went to her knees, and began to pump her sex wildly. As I watched, the suffocating power of Scorpio’s sexual powers swept over me. Every muscle was weak with an instant orgasm. And other. And other. As my whole body shook, my eyes met hers. There was nothing alive in her face. We were both toys.

As an average woman, I delight in orgasm. I delight in sex. That is my downfall. The magic that empowers me makes me experience all things in a heightened sensory realm. When villains who do not have Scorpio’s sexual magic have confronted me, they have been able to defeat me with sex hormones or sexual magic. I was no match for Scorpio. I sank to my knees, cumming over and over again.

Rakshasa beamed as he watched my breasts shake.

“Let’s see how this adds to the experience.”

He stood, took Thunder by the wrist and raised her arm. Standing behind her, he cupped the big, brown left breast and gave deep exhalation. Thunder struck me with lightning. Each sex-tortured muscle shuddered under the new assault. Tensing, relaxing, jerking, contracting, the very fiber of my body was out of my hands. My costume kept me from actually burning, but each jolt was new panorama of pain.

“Don’t let her black out. Back off now.”

The women heeded his order. Scorpio slowly pulled the doll from her pussy. He let Thunder lower her hand.

On my side, still shaking, my head spinning I looked up at my tiger master as he approached. He crouched down over me.

“I’m enjoying this. I’m enjoying torturing you, Gold. What do you think of that?”

I was too weak to speak. My trembling and guttural groans were the only response.

My captor signaled the enslaved Scorpio again.

“Put the doll back in your twat.”

There was the wet kissing noise of an excited cunt, and an envelope of sex folded around me again. My legs went stiff as I came in one storm after another. I knew that soon I would be exhausted and at the point of no return.

From where I lay, I could see Scorpio on her back, muscular legs in the air, swiftly thrusting my effigy in and out of her pussy. She moaned, and I felt the waves of pleasure and helplessness break over me again and again. With one orgasm after another sweeping through my long body, I was just a shuddering pile of sex.

“So, Gold, are you up for a fucking?”

To weak to even think, my cunt forced the words from my mouth.

“Yes.”

“I suppose blondes don’t always have more fun, eh Gold?”

He kicked me in the chin, snapping my head back.

“Don’t worry, Gold, you won’t die just yet. Boys!”

I heard a cacophony of footfalls in an adjoining hallway, and my heart sank. The air was filled with goofy, adolescent laughter as circle of costumed legs thundered around me. I looked up into the faces of grinning skeletons. The Skeleton Crew had me again.

“Hey sweetheart. Miss us?”

I’m not sure which one spoke, but I recognized each voice, each build, and the intent in the eyes of each masked face. I recalled each one from the special attention they gave me when I was their prisoner. There was the big one who was so captivated by the way my breasts moved when my body was jarred. During my captivity, he took every chance he had to grab my shoulders and simply shake my body, his grease-painted face beaming as my round breasts shuddered. There was the lean one that made them hold me up like a punching bag, and became more and more flustered as I did not bleed as he poured fist after fist into me. There was the skinny one who enjoyed dragging me by the hair. He let out a happy little chuckle as, again, he twinned his fists into my blond hair and used both hands to pull. They romped along in a mob, laughing and kicking my orgasming form as he dragged me across the room. My hands clutched at his wrists, but I had just about the strength of a kitten. Each wave of orgasm made me shudder and shake as hard as the last. Try as I might, all I could focus on was my need to be fucked and to have even more orgasms. There is no special word for my natural sexual weakness. Everything about Tracy is enhanced by the magic that creates Gold - intellect, strength, sex drive, everything. That’s why the voodoo doll being in Scorpio’s yoni left me so overwhelmed. My body was like butter.

“Have her back by midnight, boys!” Rakshasa laughed after them.

They chose a cramped little storage room for me. I couldn’t tell what was in the crates, but the whole thing reeked if latex and rubber. Again they traded ideas on how to deal with me as I was lifted up and stretched out on a group of boxes that had been made into a make-shift altar. Gasping, moaning, yelping out with each new orgasm, I twitched and jerked against the wood of the boxes. Four of them pinned my limbs down and held me spread eagle.

“Gold, will you shut up?” one of them laughed. That was just as he jammed a rubber ball into my mouth and slapped a piece of heavy tape over my parted lips. My head still swam with sex and my pussy still gushed even as I issued only muffled grunts. Several of them had stared to stroke those massive cocks again, and I knew there was a cum bath somewhere in my not-to-distant future. The idea covered with more waves of excitement. The sexual magic of my new villain had turned me into a slut.

“Hey, Gold, you haven’t met Jesse, have you?”

One of them grabbed my hair and held my head up to see this Jesse person. I learned that the Skeleton Crew was not a men’s club after all. She stood about five-foot-ten, and was built like an athlete. Her body wasn’t as muscular as mine, but she flaunted what she had, strutting with those long legs and letting her long, thick brown hair sweep down across small, firm breasts. While the male skeletons wore ill-fitting baggy costumes, Jesse was adorned with a skin-tight spandex black cat suit with the same white bones printed against her body. Her perfect high-cheek-boned face was done up in meticulously done skull-face grease paint. She spoke with a clear, confident voice.

“Gold, listen. If you want these boys to let you go, nod once. If you want me to put this on and fuck you like a whore, nod twice.” She held up a strap-on and harness.

There was no struggle left in me. I must have nodded six times. Even Succubus has never controlled me to this extent.
She smiled and slowly stepped into the belt. In a moment, Jesse had a massive, curved prick sprouting from her crotch. She posed for a moment, then dipped her fingers into a small black pot that rested on a crate beside her. All I could do was watch, and pant, and drip as she stroked the strap-on, coating it with this sweet-smelling goo.

“Enjoy this, Gold.”

They let my head down and a hush came over the Crew as she slithered up between my legs and mounted me. Her pouty, full mouth closed around my right breast, and she began to suck through the golden body sheath. Again, my costume was defeated by some sort of sexual magic. My nipples were already hard, but now grew even bigger, harder, riper in her mouth. Even though the skeleton thugs held me down, ever muscle trembled. I was still rocking from the orgasm waves, and my body was shuddering with anticipation over what I was about to receive from my captors.

A shameful electric surge went up my spine as Jesse gave me one deft thrust. I was full of cock and there was a thick blanket of wantonness sweeping through me. Whatever she had applied to the dildo was diffusing through me, sending every muscle into spasm, sending my mind into a warm sweet surrender. As she fucked me with that lean body and that huge, fake cock, I felt a love for her well up in me. I felt a gratitude for her fucking me so powerful that I wanted to cry. The men still held my limbs, but I was a willing slave.

With each thrust, I released a deep, throaty groan.

My pussy was dripping, and she pumped me with a slick action.

Soon, the magic ointment took me elsewhere. The scene of that girl’s painted face moving above mine dissolved into a montage of faces and bodies. I saw Succubus in the flowing, gossimer-thin white gown she wore on the first night that we met and battled. I could feel my defeat again, my legs buckling as her pheromones broke me. Again, I could feel her pulling me against her body, sucking my tongue. I could feel her fingers rubbing my big clit in a circle. A new orgasm began to build in me. It rushed along below the current of Jesse’s fucking and Scorpio’s voodoo masturbation.

Again, I could feel my captivity at the hands of the Congregation. I could feel a massive cock pumping inhuman spunk down my throat. I could feel it pouring down my chin. I could see it clinging to my golden costume. The mouth of a woman eating me out and huge member boring its way into my tight backside came through clearly. I could feel them again, and I adored them for taking me. Another orgasm began.

There was the Rook, again, blindfolding me and fucking my mouth until my face was drenched with gobs of cum.

I remembered The Lash gripping me around the waist, inverted, and squeezing as he lapped my vulva. My long legs quivered and shook in the air as my head swam.

There was the one who called himself The Horseman. I mentally traveled back to the masterful way he roped me, tied me like a calf and flung me over the back of his robotic horse. I could feel the rope rubbing my clit and nipples again. I saw him in another vision, beating me. I recalled him, striking me like I boxer - jab, cross, jab, cross, hook - he knocked me around his barn. Stretched below Jesse, I felt myself quickening with each recovered memory of that beating. Each recollection of his boxing blows started me toward a new explosive orgasm.

“Remember them all, lover,” Jesse hissed.

I remembered the way the Horseman strangled me from behind while he entered my ass, spreading my anus with his massive girth. That time, I was under mind control . Now, with the power of Rakshasa flowing through Jesse and into me, my mind was out of control.

The Skeleton Crew continued to pin my arms down, but it was unnecessary. I was a toy.

I was a toy flooded with images of my own defeats.

There was my defeat at the hands of Surge. He was tall, powerfully built killer who had molded his persona around Thunder. He also wore a second skin of purple and yellow. He also flew and generated electrical power blasts. Like Thunder, he was lean and physically beautiful. Under the control of the Skeleton Crew, I drifted back to the night he nearly killed Thunder and me.

I recalled the agony of arcs of electricity leaping from his fingertips and being absorbed into my big nipples. I remembered being on my back, on floor, helpless as he lifted Thunder and lowered her on to me. Our large breasts pressed together as one mass, our hair tangled in one sloppy mess. Her beautiful unconscious face nestled against my neck, and Surge knelt between our sleek, muscular thighs. He entered Thunder first, then me.

There were those three women, blond sisters in skin-tight black leather cat suits and high heels. They had beaten me long ago, but the feeling came back. The triplets used gas to subdue me, and kept gassing me as they feasted on my sex. They kept a mask on my face, pumping gas into my lungs. The feeling of being eaten out came back to me. The feeling of having their small, firm breasts, one after the other, stuffed in my mouth as the mask was moved and returned came back to me. The feeling of manicured nails and long fingers kneading my breasts and buttocks came back to me. Another orgasm was born.

I saw my female ejaculation - my gushing pussy juice - splash on Phelia’s face, as Necro stood back and smiled. When I cum hard, I splash, and that’s what Necro and Phelia was were able to do to me.

I heard the Wizard command me to crawl to him, my mouth ready to accept his massive member. Again I could feel my defeat at his hands. I could feel the way I took him all the way to the back of my throat.

There was Thorne. I remembered him rubbing his cock between my breasts. I could feel him, again, carrying me to the bed like a lover, spreading my legs, and taking his time to make love to my entire captured body. Drugged with his powerful aphrodisiac, I spread my legs for my enemy, and guided his head down to bite and suck my inner thighs. I felt the feelings again as I remembered wrapping my legs around his waist and inviting my foe to fuck me.

I remembered, and came again.

I remembered the tightness of ropes that pinned me to a chair as the beautiful Wren secured a ball gag in my mouth.

The fabric finally wove together in a composite. It never happened, but as the female skeleton fucked me, the vision came through clear as day. I was on all fours, presenting my ass and cunt for entry. The villains formed a circle around me. There were so many that I found myself turning my head like a confused bird, blond hair flying. I could hear their thoughts.

“She puts up a good little fight.”

“Yes, but it always ends the same way.”

“Yup, it’s always Gold squirming on the end of some hard cock.”

“Or eating pussy.”

“Or enjoying a good round of bound -and -gagged.”

“She was born to be a slave.”

“She does fine against your bush-league criminal.”

“But not us. Even when she wins, she loses.”

The image of Rakshasa loomed up in my mind. He was ten times as big as in real life. He cocked a claw back and struck me in the face. I squealed with delight as I was thrown back. In that vision, I crawled on all fours back to him and looked up at my master. I wanted him to sacrifice me. I wanted him to defeat me totally.

The Skeleton Crew took the rubber ball and tape from my mouth so that I could scream out loud as the multiple orgasms ripped me. My consciousness had been torn into pieces, and each one was now nothing but sex. Pain and ecstasy became a howl that escorted me into a world of darkness.

There was a vision - a dream, I thought - of honey being poured over me. I lapped it. I drank. I slept.

The old man at the bookstore had a granddaughter who helped from time to time. A college kid. She was a cute little wiccan with purple hair and a wardrobe of tie dyes. She was there when the strange men in skeleton suits delivered the long crate. They laughed and ran off into the night.

It was the girl who ran to find the crow bar and came back to the loading dock to help him pry the crate open. She was the one who gasped when she saw me
.
They explained to me, later that night as I sat there stretching sore muscles and cleaning off my golden sheath, what must have happened to me. There was no more pretension about pretending I was not Gold. He was my mentor now.

“He is very much in control, and is using you, this Rakshasa. He is enslaving you and there is little we can do, it seems,” said the old man as he puttered about in the storage room. I sat on a crate and massaged my defeated muscles as the girl tried to clean me off.

“His weakness will shine through, but .... you say you remembered all of the sexual domination you experienced?”

“Yes.”

“And you had a certain joy?”

“Yes.” I shuddered with ecstasy at the very thought of it.

“What you thought you felt being poured over you was his seed. He put you in a clear plastic body bag, doused you with this semen, sealed the bag and crated you up. He then sent you to us. It was amazing. The seed - the semen - it had hardened to the thickness of dried plaster. We had to work very hard to free you. You recall swallowing some?”

“Yes.”

“This was the second time. You must understand, from what you’ve told me, he is not a true Rakshasa. He is a man who has harnessed many types of magic and is something even more dangerous. I’m sure he will get you to swallow it again. You will be enslaved. If this happens, though, you will be able to get closer to him and see his weakness.”

I started to rise.

“Wait,” he said. “I need you to see something.”

He picked up a mirror and held it up for me to see.

“It has been many hours since you were taken, defeated, and returned to us in your state. Since then, some of your sister heroines attempted to defeat him. I’m afraid things have not gone well for them. You know the women called Lonestar, Ms Freedom, Total Eclipse, and Neutron?”

“Yes,” I said.

“They learned of your combat, and went off to confront him.”

There was a glow, then an image. I saw Neutron on her knees. Her second-skin red body suit, with its atom symbol, was stained and gobbed with white. My face must have had that same distant, glossy look when the Skeleton Crew had me. Now she was the one with the drugged look as two cocks filled her mouth at once. The red head was ravenously taking them.

Another image bled in. Rakshasa had Lonestar and Ms. Freedom. Their red-white-and-blue costumes were torn and each was having three skeletons at once. Unfettered joy played across their faces. When they were not filling their mouths with cock, they were exclaiming joy and demanding more.

In the next image, Jess was giving her massive dildo to Total Eclipse, humping her like a dog from behind.

The final image was of a pile of women - a jumble of hair, hips, thighs, and breasts - encircled by the laughing monster and his skeletons.

“These were no match for him,” the old man said. “But, no, you may not rush to help them. You are far too weak and must sleep.”

I was going to protest, but a wave of his hand and the muttered word “sleep” toppled me over.

Hours later, I awoke in my apartment to the sounds of doomsday. Somehow he had transported me back to my ... Tracy’s ... apartment , and tucked me, safe and nude, into bed. Now I woke with a start as screams and explosions ripped my sleep. I bolted to my big, picture window and recalled a passage from that book. It said how Rakshasas tear communities apart by creating discord and hate. As I watched hundreds of people fighting in the streets below my apartment, and chunks of structures crumbling as construction equipment was used in the melee, I understood what this meant.

Saw the trap.

I knew he would defeat me. I knew the final stages of my enslavement were happening.

I still became Gold and soared out to quell the violence.

It didn’t take long for me to find him. In his full tiger-man form, he hovered in midair and orchestrated the hell below. At that point, he was focusing on the bridges and electrical wires, tearing them out and ripping them up. He commanded them to move on their own.

I flew right at him.

“Hello, Gold. Ready to finish this? Ready to be a slave?”

The first chain, no thicker than a bicycle’s, went right for my throat. I reached at it, but the steel snake was too fast, coiling itself once, twice, three times around my golden throat. I reached for it, sending magic energies through my fingertips, but there was no prying the chain loose. I was being strangled.

I felt a tight grip on the big muscles in my left thigh and looked down to see a steel cable from the ruptured bridge, also flowing through the air like a snake, wrapping itself around my leg. It squeezed the thick quad, making me grimace in agony. Instinctively, I reached for the thing, only to have my wrists trapped by an angry length of fiber optic cable. Moving with the Rakshasa’s super speed, it bound my wrists together, wrapping them in thick, invincible coils.

At the same time, a length of rope had slithered between my thighs, pressing its rough hide hard against my big, thick labia. It then made its way up, riding the crease of my ass, and finally wrapped itself twice around my waist. There, it was joined by a ship’s lanyard that circled around my narrow midsection and squeezed mercilessly.

My screams were stifled by the steel around my throat.

As more and more debris joined the party of wrapping Gold, I found myself sinking back to Earth. Groggy, my ability to keep my super powers going unconsciously was waning. My magic fades when my nervous system is jangled or fuzzy in any way. With my brain receiving no oxygenated blood, I was fading fast.

Another rope closed around my throat.

A cable grabbed my hair and pulled, yanking my head back hard.

“Having troubles, dear?” Rakshasa called up to me. Chains bound my ankles together and, as my brain took its last gasp before slipping into blackness, began to drag me from the air.

I’m not sure how many minutes passed between my defeat and my first groggy gasps of air. I was still on the dock, still bound, helpless at the feet of Rakshasa. The lapping waves were drowned out by the chaos that continued to rip the city apart.

With my throat chains gone, I could speak. They were the only lengths of my captivity that had been undone.

“You’ve got me now. You have what you want. Make the chaos stop,” I told Rakshasa.

My legs were locked tightly together. My wrists were still bound in front. He had continued to wrap me in everything possible, even while I was out. Now I was practically a mummy of wires, ropes, and chains.

“That would seem like the decent thing to do. Only....”

I could only wait in his pause.

“There should be something more. Something should be done to show your complete compliance with Rakshasa.”

Dressed in his impeccable suit and tailored like he was, he looked like a businessman pondering a merger or something.

“I’ll do it,” I said. Even with my powers jangled as they were, I had managed to read his mind.

“Do what?” He wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear Gold say the words.

“I’ll suck your cock. Gold will swallow your cum tonight.”

He beamed. The violence stopped instantly. With a big hand, he grabbed a fist full of blond and pulled me up to a kneeling position. The other hand withdrew his massive cock.

Getting me to suck - that’s a favorite method for getting me to show that I’m beaten. It had been only a month since I was on my knees beside Avalon. Both of us had our wrists bound by leather and steel cuffs behind our backs. We took turns watching as the swollen cock of our captor, an unnamed man who appeared to be nothing more than average, filled her mouth, then mine, then hers. Somehow, he managed to simply brush off our super-powered attacks and held us captive in his suburban bedroom. After a beating and a round of humiliation, we ended up giving him our mouths.

Incubus, The Horseman, and the members of the Congregation all filled my mouth at one time or another, but in each case my mind had been bent to serve them. I let Rakshasa fill my mouth. He clutched my head on both sides, his fingers woven into my thick hair. He held my head in place. He fucked my mouth.

When he heard the low grunt that indicated I was gagging, it only increased his vigor and delight.

How many times had I been like this - super heroine bound and helpless, her body used as a sexual toy for a villain? He howled in victory as he released a load straight down my throat. Flooded with copious amounts, all I could do was swallow and fight the need to pass out.

Still spraying, he withdrew and rained on my face. Cum covered my eyes and dribbled down my skin. He then smeared and rubbed it all over my mask, my nose, my lips, my chin with his huge cock.

The whole thing ended with him using my hair to wipe his cock clean.

“There,” he smiled. A snap of his fingers, and the chaos ended. Eerie silence fell over the city.

“And as for you.”

A swift backhand to my cum smeared face ended my dance with consciousness.

When I awoke, I was hanging on an X rack - a Saint Andrew’s cross. I’d been bound to one before, but that was with hardware store chains that I easily broke upon waking up. Rakshasa pinned my wrists and ankles to the steel girders with his magical energy. For good measure, he even secured my narrow waist to the rack with a band of power. The energy bands sapped my strength and neutralized my powers. I was six feet of helpless woman.

As I slowly raised my face, which was still smeared with his cum, I realized he had taken me into his inner sanctum. I was in a room full of Indian rugs and deep maroon and purple tapestries. Incense filled the air and candles burned all over. Sitar music filtered into my battered head.

“Ah, my new concubine awakes.”

He was a man again, dressed in a smoking jacket and silk pajamas. A perfumed cigarette smoldered between his fingers while he nursed a scotch and soda.

“Welcome, Gold.”

“Charmed, I sure.”

He walked up close enough for me to smell the perfumes that lingered in his fabric.

“You are going to help me, Gold. You are going to help me do a little magic.”

His eyes roved over my breasts, my thighs, my long, muscular limbs. They came to settle between my thighs, and her reached out to cup my sex. As if I was totally naked, he used those long fingers to fiddle with the thick lips of my labia. I groaned for him.

“I have no choice, but tell me, what have you done with ....”

“Ah! Scorpio and Thunder? The others? Take a look.”

He snapped his fingers, and two tapestries dropped from the wall behind him. There were two white statues there. Two perfect female forms that seemed to be shaped out of crusted and dried semen. Just like he had with me, Rakshasa had spewed cum all over them and left them frozen in place.

“They could remain like this forever, Gold. That’s Thunder and Scorpio. The others are still marinating.”

SNAP. A vision of the other heroines appeared in midair. Each was submerged in her own bath of spunk. They seemed to sleep peacefully as creamy, whiteness folded over their heads. They floated and drifted in an ocean of his magic seed.

“Christ! Do you have any left? You’ve been cumming on everyone and her sister. Again, why not let them go? You have me. You don’t even need these chains.”

“Their time will come. Yours in now.”

I hung there in those shackles, a long, golden X, my hair in my face, and watched as he gathered candles, urns, crystals, and books. My breathing echoed in the room. I waited.

When he was ready, he turned to me.

“I like your magic, Gold. I brought you here to be an altar - a focal point for my magic and a sort of a key.”

“I don’t understand.”

Again, that finger snapping. My cuffs unsnapped. If I’d been chained my a regular mortal, I would have dropped to the floor. Instead, I hovered. Still forming that X with my body, I hung in midair.

SNAP.

I floated forward, still spread-eagle.

SNAP.

My arms and legs clamped shut. I stood as one tight, muscular, golden line in midair. Legs together. Arms together. Head upright.

SNAP.

My body began to rotate. A helpless, six foot blond who could muster no more magic than a rag doll, I let his powers rotate me down to a complete horizontal plane. I was floating on my back in midair.

SNAP.

I lowered to waist level. My body hovered in front of him like a table top.

“Let’s get this underway,” he said.

He placed a crystal ball on the tight muscles of my abs. Now I understood. He was actually using my body as a table, an altar.

Rakshasa worked methodically, setting up candles, icons. He placed a candle, in its ornate holder, between my breasts. Soon hot wax was flowing in my cleavage. There was a candle of the same sort placed over my navel. My face became the resting place for some sort of icon - a statue of some sort. All I could make out was a huge phallus. Other than that, I was in the dark.

“This is why you captured and tortured me? To use my body as a magical altar? You are using me as an actual altar?”

“Yes. As you have guessed, I was a regular man once. But, simply studying various magical ways, as you did, I have become like a god.”

“And my magic will take you to a higher level?”

“It will allow me to open a magical gateway that has eluded me for a years, Tracy.”

He was lighting candles and sprinkling some sort of dust over me. As I did, a new energy ran up my chakra points. There was a throbbing that soared from the top of my head to my clit. My body, now an object couldn’t shudder.

“What will you do with me once it works?”

He didn’t answer. The chanting had already started. It was low and muttering at first, then rose, becoming clear and precise. He chanted in an ancient language that did not register with me. I could see shadows and movement. With each word, the energy started anew in my body.

“Yes!” he said.

I thought that I would cum again. I thought that I would have those waves of lust again. It wasn’t to be. Powerful forces passed through me ... through my breasts, my cunt, my muscles ... but I was just a holding piece. I was a conduit. I felt, but I did not feel.

As his chanting increased, the rush increased. Soon I heard what sounded like fabric tearing and water rushing. The gateway was opening.

“Yes! You are my golden key!”

It wasn’t that my magic was being drained; it was just being channeled.

“My gateway! My passage to another dimension!”

Hovering in the air, stiff and straight, I could only listen as he walked away from me and stepped to meet the gateway.

“You’ve been a great help, Tracy. Your powers have made me stronger. I’m going across now. When I return, I will bring powers with me that will dwarf what I have shown you. I will enslave you again, only this time the whole of humanity will join you.”

I heard him disappear into the portal.

The old man and his little apprentice found me still hovering, stiff as a board, in the Rakshasa’s abandoned place. It was a day after he disappeared into the portal. They broke my spell and freed the human statues that the other heroines had become.

I had been soundly defeated.

“He will return for you, Gold,” the old man told me. I was Tracy again, days later, sitting in the back room of his store. The magical golden body sheath was replaced by boots, jeans, and a fuzzy pink sweater. I sipped tea and listened.

“How can I prepare?” I asked, a lump in my throat. I still felt the defeat already running through me.

“We’ll begin today.”

He opened a book of magic.