GOLD

The Rook

Written by Mr K

ROOK

The ceiling caved in above me, and I knew I was sunk. Beams, plaster, and brick battered me for the few seconds it took for the Rook to drop his full weight on to my back. I heard myself grunt as his heavy, booted feet plowed me to the floor. It would have killed a normal woman. For me, it was just a stunning blow.

There was a brief moment of me laying face-down on the floor, and the black and white-clad villain standing over me. Then, I felt two massive hands grip my shoulders and yank me up from the floor. I reeled on my knees for all of a second, then became a missile as the big man sent me flying head-first into the wall. Plaster and beams caved in around me as I crashed, skull-first, through the wall.

Spinning. Spiraling around. There was consciousness somewhere behind me, black void rushing up to meet me. Shattered paster and ruptured concrete smelled like the dust of the clay room at college. Mold reeked on the broken wall beams. Somewhere was up. Somewhere was down. Memories and pain. As the man’s huge hands grabbed my waist and pulled me up, then held me aloft, I realized how weak and disoriented I really was. There was no fighting back.

He turned me upside down, then slammed me head-first, through the floor. Again, I was in a shower of dust, wood and plaster as I shot through to the floor below us. That floor didn’t give, and I ended up spread-eagle prone in the wreckage of the building’s guts. Everything hurt, and I heard the villain coming to get me, his toy, that he had been battering for an hour or so. My powers were on the fritz because his first attack - an ambush out of the blue - was pin-pointed on a nerve center that shut down my system. Arms and legs limp, I was a rag doll. If my nervous system had been working, his blows would have been absorbed by the golden liquid metal sheath that serves as my costume. My second skin. Without its power, I was basically wearing a golden full-body tattoo that did nothing to protect me as he beat me.

In a pile of debris, sprawled on my face, I finally lost my grip on consciousness. I did feel him roll me over, and I knew be began to manipulate my body, pulling my arms and legs. Then everything was black numbness.

I awoke to intense cold and the roughness of a rope against my throat. Opening my eyes, I saw the steam cloud of my own breath. I saw his face behind the floating veil of white. A quick look around, and it was obvious what my fate was to be. We were in a building’s basement, which was as cold as a meat locker. I was standing on a block of ice. My wrists were bound behind my back. My ankles were secured together. My neck was in a hangman’s noose that dangled from the overhead pipes.

Oldest one in the book.

He would raise the temperature in the room. The ice would melt. I would strangle.

“Who are you, Rook? Why are you doing this?”

My words came out as strangled chirps.

The handsome man in the tight, black costume with its white rook insignia on the chest, only smiled as he secured my noose. He left the room for a moment, crisp footfalls echoing in the icy death room. He returned with a long mirror that he carefully sat in front of me, letting me see myself in totality. My golden second skin bore hardly a smudge or stain. My thick blond hair was even in place. It gracefully poured over my shoulders. Bound and noosed, I stood up straight on the ice block.
I shifted my eyes to the Rook, who smiled, wagged a scolding finger at me, and shot a right jab into my face. Again, I was out.

This was easy enough. I slowly drifted out of my darkness, the rope tightening around my windpipe, and started the process of escape. Now that my nervous system was less clouded and close to being back in order, all I had to do was escape. Break the ropes on my wrists. Break the ropes that held my ankles. Snap the noose.

I stepped off of the ice block and moved up stairs with all due speed. There was no doubt in my mind that Rook was long gone. I didn’t even think in terms of finding him. Our meeting that night was purely by accident, and I didn’t expect him to have waited around. We’d meet again, and hopefully I wouldn’t let him get the drop on me again.

Up on the roof, I stretched out my arms and flew. Dawn was breaking. The city was coming alive. I had been defeated by a new foe. Ain’t life grand?

After some freshening up, I did some nonsuperheroine work and took time to meditate. I always take some time to evaluate what happened after I’m defeated.

I’d had three big defeats lately. True, I was able to beat each villain in turn, but it was tough. I could have been killed in each case.

A week before this Rook guy had his way with me, I was captured by the Wizard. His magic was strong, but not really stronger than mine. We traded energy blasts and spells. We knocked each other around a bit. It was when he endangered an innocent passer-by, and distracted me, that he got the drop on me. I spun around, only to take a blast of sex magic square in the face.

Once his erotic spell was cast over me, I was hopeless. I felt as though I was in love with him. Part of me battled it, but he was in control.

He was in a perfect position to kill me, but chose to control me and watch me wrap my full lips around his massive tool instead.

“Use your golden mouth, Gold. I love that pouty mouth of yours. ”

Up in his tower, after he spirited me away, I sucked his cock for endless hours, bringing him off time and again. He was huge in my mouth, and his sperm came in waves that gagged me and spewed from my overflowing mouth.

When he finally got around to putting me on his altar and fucking me, he made it a point to pull out of my vagina and cum on my costume. Hot streams shot all over my breasts and thighs. He told me that I had t o be christened over and over again.
I was drenched in cum by the time I found a way to get out of there, and out of his clutches.

When the Wren took me, she did it with a kiss. She blew me a kiss. It wasn’t enough that I caught a ripple between my thighs and in my nipples when I saw the lithe, little college-aged bitch in her black-and-red spandex, she had to blow me a kiss. I was too off-guard to dodge or move as the sweet-smelling cloud of her kiss grew from her lips and encircled my face.

I gently sank to my knees, then to all fours. My big, swollen breasts hung down, my hair hung like a curtain, and I panted on that roof top as the girl approached me.

“What’s your real name, Gold?”

I had to tell her. She had me.

“I’m Tracy Hannah.”

“How old?”

“I’m forty.”

“Mmmmm. I’m twenty-one. About twice my age, and I’m doing you in. I like older women.”

She leaned down and whispered in my ear with sweet breath. Her brown hair blew in the night breeze.

“Kiss my nice black boot, Gold.”

There was no question. I pressed my lips to the shiny toe of her black leather boot, and kissed with my lips parted. I kissed again, this time pressing the tip of my tongue to the shoe. I could taste her walk through the city streets and across the roof tops. Passion rose in my loins, my ass, my mouth, and I began to give deep, sucking kisses to the woman’s black boot. Soon my hands locked around her ankle, and I could hear myself giving deep, sucking French kisses.

She giggled as she watched.

Later, when I was tied to a chair and ball-gagged in her apartment, all I could think of was how badly I needed to masturbate for her.

I finally got lose, beat Wren, and put her behind bars. But that didn’t matter a few days later when Arachnae and I were on our knees in front of The Ropemaster. The massive man in his red body suit had used the same pattern as the others; first he overwhelmed us with gas, then went to work with his art. Groggy and beaten, we could only moan as he bound our arms behind our backs, bound our thighs, crossed and tied our ankles together.

Everything was blurry, but I could see him groping over her red body suit, and her blue tights. As I passed out, I saw Ropemaster stripping Arachnae’s costume. Her breasts were bare.

All of them had over-powered me utterly, but I’d rallied in each case.

The Wizard used magic.

The Wren used sex.

Ropemaster used gas and rope you coud find in any hardware store.

The Rook used speed. Speed and a force that I could not explain.He beat me fast enough and hard enough that I couldn’t use strength or magic. Then he set about executing me. He didn’t account for the use of my powers once my body was back in order. That means he didn’t know much about me. Why and how did he seek me out, then?

More work.

More thinking.

I went for a fly.

As the city passed below me, I tried t o put the pieces together. He came out of the shadows, striking me with a massive burst of some sort energy and a massive fist. My nervous system shut down, and I found myself slamming up against a wall. I offered nothing as he grabbed my breasts, spun me around in that alley, bent me over a trash can, and jammed a finger up my ass. One massive hand held me in place while the other probed me. With my golden skin depowered, he was able to reach right through my costume.

I was too shocked to moan or scream. My face was a mask of confusion and pain. I was already beaten and I hadn’t even seen his face.

“This is too easy,” he grumbled. “I have to beat you some more.”

And he set about beating me. I winced as he pulled that thick finger out of my tight asshole, and took hold of my ankles.

“I love a woman in high-heeled boots. Do these form as part of that liquid-skin costume of yours, Gold? Mmmmm, you have some nice legs, baby. Big legs,” he taunted, as he dragged me down on to my face on the concrete. He pinned my ankles together with both hands and started to heave. There was a groan, and a pull, and soon my body began to lift.

“My thing in college was the hammer throw,’” he laughed. A second later, I was flying. Whipped around twice like a rag doll, my long body went airborne. A steel door didn’t yield when I met it with my skull, my body. The shock waves of my impact echoed in my head.

I was in and out of consciousness as he buried a fist in my gut, drove a knee into my face, and plowed me again and again with boxing blows. My body snapped this way and that as I was soundly defeated my this mystery man.

Huge hands grabbed my breasts and twisted them, wringing a scream from my lungs.

“I love these big tits,” he growled. My large beasts were dough in his hands. I made a feeble effort to fend him off, but a swift open-handed slap to my face ended the pathetic defense. There’s no way to know how long he tortured my breasts, biting and twisting them.

My mission that night had been to find a group of kidnappers, but I ended up being the victim of an abduction.

During my fly, I figured out how to resume my mission. The issue of the Rook would have to wait. Although his attack on me was personal, my mission was as well. I came to understand that I had special mind abilities in the sixth grade, I find myself suddenly changing worlds. The tall, blond, with the peaches-and -cream skin was suddenly a minority. I found myself feeling affinity with the oddest of the odd. The marginal.

Once I went to Norway, met the witches, and learned my magic, I knew that part of my heroineship would be protecting others like me.

It was two nights later that I watched the kidnappers take a woman from their van and drag her to the back door of a warehouse. She walked on her own, but I could tell that she was an unwilling guest. There were at least three other women in there, out of my sight, none of whom wanted to be in this condition. The reason I knew all of this, the reason I found my way to that roof top, was that I was picking up what magic users and espers call “squeaks” or “mousings.” That’s what we call psychic messages sent inadvertently by people who don’t know that they are psychic. At times of great stress and emotion, they will let out bursts of power that shine like beacons. Teenagers going through hormone rushes are big on this. I was following a psychic.

She looked composed, but this woman was a psychic who was letting out distress calls. I was following her.

The one who stood behind the captive quipped.

“He’s sure been into tall blonds lately, huh?”

The other nodded and gave a “yup”, as he unlocked the warehouse door.

Their captive was tall. Not my full six feet, but she was tall and willowy with a nice figure and long legs. Her muscle wasn’t as pronounced and dense as mine, but it stood out in that lean frame. I saw firm sinew move below her autumn peasant skirt.

As they opened the door and guided her in, I flitted silently to the roof of the warehouse and moved close to the skylight. I peered down to see computers, beds with restraints, vats of some sort of liquid ugliness. This was more than a warehouse.
I waited and watched. The last time I’d knelt and waited, looking through a skylight was during my last tangle with the Congregation. They had gathered in a beautiful estate that was modeled after Versailles. I had picked up their signature, and Mystic, Scorpio, Thunder, and I flew out there to make some havoc. Little did we knew, their minds had developed to a new level.

As we crept in, each of us was picked off. They got me as I mounted the roof of a building. A hundred brains stabbed into mine, blacking me out and sending me tumbling through the skylight in a shower of glass shards. The Congregation has massive mental powers.

The captors in this warehouse did not have mental weapons, and now I had the advantage.

The psychic woman didn’t resist as they lead her into the room, stripped her, and forced her to sit in some sort of dentist chair. One of them moved to arrange some instruments, and I decided to end it. I dropped. Dropping is when I fall and fly at the same time. It’s the fastest controlled fall I can do. Booted toes pointed, arms above my head, I descended on them. The force of both of my feet plowing into the back of the first one knocked him out cold. I could have snapped his spine or bisected him, but just knocked him out instead. Before the other could even move, he was flat on his back and sleeping soundly.

A flood of tearful thanks poured out of the woman, but I hurried her along, dressing her and sending her running off into the night.

“I’m staying here to free the others. Just go!”

I followed my senses, moving silently through the strange warehouse. There were those tables, those vats, restraints, and machines. I prowled silently, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. As I rounded a corner, I saw them - six nude women were strapped to six steel tables. A few squirmed to get free, while the others had long since given up.

What this all meant was a mystery, but I was a golden blur as I moved to solve it. I easily broke each bond and got each woman up off of the tables. Some were drowsy, some panic-stricken, but all were able to follow my instructions.

“Join hands, ladies. Sorry there won’t be any in-flight movie. Just, uh, just grab each other and grab me. Hmmm, on second thought, maybe I should lift you one at a time.”

With blinding speed, I punched a hole in the roof and flew one tall blond after the other out to a safe spot beyond the building. I had to move quickly, and I was pretty sure the tallest one would pass out from the speed, but I did it. By the time the guards stormed the room they were safe and I was alone.

“Sorry boys, the ladies said that you were rude hosts.”

There was about ten of them. Beefy. Thick-necked. Dull-witted, I suppose. I let them move on me first. Two grabbed my arms. Those two found themselves sailing through the air. I fed another a boot in the face that turned his lights out. Another tasted a back fist. As the others attacked me with chairs and pipes, I resorted to magic. They joined their buddies in the Land of Nod. Again, I could have killed them, but chose to let them crash into a golden barrier.

“Don’t suppose any of you guys could explain what this place is all about, eh? No?”

My answer came.

There was a gentle rush of wind, and there was thick, white gas gagging me. Before I could fly, my hands were clawing at my throat, my wind pipe constricting, my nostrils burning. I could feel my lungs struggling to work. Through watery eyes, I saw heavy white fumes pouring out of vents in the ceiling. The firm, muscular build of my legs gave out. They buckled below me, and I collapsed in a heap on the floor.

This was the second oldest trick in the book, and, maybe, the sloppiest. You just flood the room with gas, knocking out everyone, then you go about collecting up the ones you want. Sloppy as it is, it works. Thorne used it to capture Arachnae, Total Eclipse, and me back when we slipped into the lair of his “Men’s Club”. We’d given his henchmen a pretty sound drubbing in the main hall, and were preparing to move on, when we found ourselves gagging, heaped on each other in a jumble of superwomen. The gas acted so fast that all we could do was collapse. After that, all he had to do was come along in his designer suit and his gas mask, and pluck us up.

The gas in the lab didn’t act as fast, but it did the trick. Too dense to be dissipated by the air flow I created by punching a hole in the ceiling, it settled on my skin and in my lungs. It wrenched strangled gags and chokes from me. It defeated me.

TABLE

They had me locked down on one of their tables. Thick cuffs pinned my wrists down at my sides. Their cold, metal twins held my ankles, my legs straight. A thick collar was fixed around my neck. All of them would have been easy enough to break , were it not for the drug that flowed through my system. During my time in blackness, someone had drugged me. I was lucid enough to think, but there was a sluggishness in the messages that traveled from my brain to my fingers and toes. My superpowers were on hold.

“Perfect,” I heard. There was no way to look around. I had to wait until my captor loomed over me to see who had gassed, drugged, and bound Gold. There were a few footfalls, then ... nothing. He was nothing. Not beautiful like the men of the Congregation. Not hideous like the Hive. There was no costume, like the Rook. All I saw was an average-looking man. A guy. A guy in a lab coat. He was pale, balding, and had those tired, weak-looking eyes you see on nine-to-fivers.

“You’re perfect,’” he smiled.

“Perfect for what? Why were you holding those women?”

I was expecting the usual mad scientist rant.

“Because they, too, were perfect,” he smiled. I watched quizzically as he pulled out a tape measure and stretched it across my bust. “Welcome to Erotech. Welcome to the future of sex.”

He squinted at the tiny numbers.

“What are you, about a 38 D cup? “ He took the measurements. moving down my body, and recording the numbers. My waist. My hips. My thighs. My limbs.

“You know, you’re a perfect hourglass. Yes. Large breasts, wide hips, narrow waist. Very muscular. Nothing but muscle. Very fit, but still a feminine build. Yes. You’ll be perfect. I’ll have to look at your vagina and your nipples.”

He was touching my body. With my arms pinned down and squeezed against my sides, my large, round breasts were upthrust. My captor took advantage of it, palming and prodding. It wasn’t the way a lover or a violator touches a woman. He felt his way over me like an inspector looking for the details of a cut of meat.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Oh, how rude of me. You ... what shall I call you, superheroine?”

“I’m Gold.”

He scribbled it down.

“Gold, you are going to bring pleasure to many men. Many women, as well. I make ... well ... toys.”

“Let me guess. You’re making dolls. You’re using women as models for life-like sex dolls. Did I get that?”

“More than ‘life-like’, Gold. Alive. Simulated women based on the most beautiful females I can find. Androids, if you will, that are the top when it comes to simulife, because they emulate an actual woman.”

“You capture women to use them as the basis for robots? What do you do with them then?”

“Not robots. Robot is such a rude term. I create simulated women. You will be the basis for my newest model. The world of sex toys has gone beyond vibrators, Gold. You, as the others would have, will be my prisoner for the rest of your life. That way I can make new versions. modify this and that. It only makes sense.

Hmmm. You are very strong and fast, and you have some sort of supernatural power. But it seems the gas and the drugs have rendered you helpless, yes?”

“Yes, “ I admitted.

“I see. And this costume. It’s fascinating. It has the look of wet metal, but it seems it’s more of a skin than it is clothing. Golden skin. Except for the mask, and high-heeled boots this is the natural form of your body. It’s like a tattoo. But I found, during your captivity, that it cannot be penetrated by conventional instruments. I take it to be some form of magic or high technology.”

I didn’t tell him that I had once worn a fabric costume, but now had mastered the Cruets, and could simple pour on this magic sheath. I also didn’t tell him that only certain types of magic could penetrate it. He did figure out the only logic step on his own.

“You can make it vulnerable, yes?”

“Yes.”

His hands moved over the hard, tight muscles of my abs and came to rest on my mound. He must have been able to feel the texture of my thick thicket of pubic hair.

“Make it so. Allow me to use instruments to penetrate your costume.”

“I won’t help you in this scheme.” I must have had a bit of my power about me.

He produced a bottle and dropper.

“ I must cloud your mind a bit.”

He unscrewed the dropper and got it ready.

“While you were knocked out, I drugged you this way.” He let three drops fall between my parted lips. The stuff was bitter and foul, but I couldn’t help swallowing. Almost immediately, I felt my thick labia begin to swell with blood. My breasts tingled and my nipples grew hard. My body was going on a ride that I couldn’t stop even if I’d had the will to try.

He stood by and waited.

“I’ve given you a drug that we’re beginning to produce here at the lab. It drives the female nervous system rapidly toward orgasm. I was concerned that it might not work on a woman like you, but....”

It did. The constricting steel of the cuffs now felt erotic and exciting. The powerlessness now felt ... intriguing. I allowed my defenses to drop; the magic of my golden skin deserted me in full.

Panting, licking my lips, I looked up at my captor.

“You can use me now.”

CHAIR

The idea was to chart the changes in my body as I neared orgasm. That way, the sex toy based on me would have realistic reactions. They wanted every measurement on what would swell and how much. They wanted to note each muscle contraction and spasm. They got their wish and then some.

They put me in The Chair. At one point, this may have been a dentist’s chair, but was now an elaborate sex toy. Reclining black leather and ergonomic curves were adorned with heavy straps and belts. Prods and devices stuck out at various angles. I would learn their use only after walking willingly to the chair.

Stumbling, really.

My legs trembled so badly from my need to cum that two of the thugs, now up and about, had to hold me up as they walked me to the sex throne. They held my arms and felt me up as we walked. The drug had done more than stir my sex drive. It had convinced me that without a powerful orgasm, my body would simply burst. I felt that I would just shake apart. I felt that I would die. Like a junky deprived of heroin, all this heroine could think of was a fix. I needed to be eaten. I needed cock. While a tiny voice battled the drug’s influence, telling me to shake it off and focus, the rest of my being surrendered to whatever he’d given me. Juice ran down my inner-thighs and I panted out the words.

“Please ... feel my ass. My tits. Just ... pinch .. just feel them ... please.” I would fight to maintain my mind, managing a feeble “No.” But would slip back down my drug-induced slope again.

The doctor’s assistants were only too happy to oblige me, feeling and groping me as they helped my across the room. One squeezed hard on my left tit, as the other massaged my ass.

“Hurry now gents, we haven’t got all day,” the doctor quipped, only half looking up from his notes.

Sleepy-eyed and sweating, I looked to one of these big criminals who tightly held my arms.

“Up my ass ... a finger ... your cock ... anything. God ... feel like I’m going to explode.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

They stopped me for a moment, pulling a rolling tray over to me.

“We have something nice for your ass, Gold. Don’t worry.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

“No....” I tried to protest, tried to pull myself together and make an effort at clearing my head. I wouldn’t let their chemical turn me into a sex toy. Pathetically wanting for gusto, that attempt fell apart as one of them bent me over and spread my ass cheeks. When the golden skin is working, nothing can penetrate it. When my powers are all under strength and unfocused, it can be passed through like water. It was easy for one of them to hold me that way, while the other introduced the smooth round head of a butt plug easily to my anus. My tight, little hole accepted and closed around the tool. I would come to understand, in just a few seconds, that this was no ordinary butt plug.

As they placed me in the chair, they made sure to maneuver my body until I heard a muffled “click”. That was the end of my butt plug joining with the terminal in the chair. One end of the butt plug was up my ass, the other was connected to an electrical terminal in the chair. The plug began to rotate and radiate warmth in my ass. I moaned, tilting my head back.
One henchman fastened the straps. I wanted to ask him to make them tighter as he secured my wrists to the arm rests and spread my legs, securing them in the position with heavy fetters. The other positioned the big, thick dildo on its mechanical arm between my open thighs. He angled it, aimed it, and leaned forward, kissing my crotch. I shuddered.

“You’re gonna’ love this, Gold.”

A button was pushed, and a huge, twelve-inch fake cock entered me. It nestled it -self deep in my cunt, shifted, then began to pump. The butt plug moved in me, the dildo moved in me, and I found myself panting, moaning, gyrating and squirming for my captors. Still, a tiny fraction of me fought to be a superheroine, but these men had dominated me. I was a captive.
Through half-closed eyes, I could see my face on the numerous screens and monitors. My skin was flushed a deep wine red beneath my mask, and my lips were parted just a bit, sucking in tiny gasps of air and releasing tiny sighs. My breasts were swollen, and a laser scanner moved back and forth across them, noting how much they changed during sex. The same was true for my cunt, and all of my vitals.

The cock was huge, and ridged in just the right way. As it pumped, it kept a consistent rhythm on my big clit. Meanwhile, the butt plug changed its tempo to match the dildo. My muscles tensed, tingles and spasm ran through me. I gripped down on the arm rests, digging my nails in as the orgasm rocked my world. The screaming orgasm.

It rolled and rolled and rolled through me, shaking me until I sank down in my chair, each muscle limp and satisfied.

“One more test, Gold.”

I was without a single protest as one of the lab assistants, a woman in a black catsuit, walked to my chair, which was actually soaked with my juices, and presented a huge dildo. She didn’t need to force my lips open. She merely shoved the dildo between my panting lips, and my mouth formed a perfect seal around the sex toy. In the screen, I could see that wide-mouthed deep-throating posture of women in hard-core porn. As readings came up on the screen, the woman shoved the tool to back of my throat, smiling as I gagged. The readings changed.

“Ok, we have her oral sex capacity. Let’s move her along.”

BOOTH

They drugged me again, then disconnected me from the chair. Women in black moved me to the next room, this time. My legs were useless, and the toes of my high-heeled boots scraped the ground as they pulled me to my next ordeal. One room after another. That little falling-out I had with the Men’s Club worked the same way. They put us in a maze of rooms and worked it so that our only choice was to move from room to room. Each held a different challenge. Arachnae found herself dodging giant blades in one, trapped in a giant web in another, and sinking into a vat of some sort of oily goop in another. I had mechanical tentacles, whizzing poisonous darts, and shifting rings of fire with which to contend.

The room to which these women in black catsuits dragged me had only one trial, and I was only expected to stand still. In the middle of the room was a metal cylinder. One held me up, her arms crossed below my breasts, while the other pushed a series of buttons that opened the booth with a hiss. The one held me in a vice-like grip was cooing in my ear.

“You smell so good, Gold. Your hair smells sweet.”

She played with my breasts for a moment, leaning me against her body. So much sex flowing through me.

It occurred to me that these women - none of the people there, really - were trying to torture me. They simply viewed me as a tool; I was there to help make those stupid sex toys, not to suffer or die.

“Your skin smells sweet, Gold.”

The two of them dragged me the open booth. Inside, there was a woman-shaped silhouette with restraints and some sort of visor. I was limp and yielding as the two of them cuffed me into the hour glass frame. Again, thick cuffs on the ankles, thighs, waist, neck and wrists. Tight. Metal.

Next, they clamped the visor over my eyes and closed the booth. It sealed with a hiss, each curve of my body being enveloped by the case. Just as I thought, I was sealed in a virtual reality chamber. Unable to move, I had to take their ride.

“Just relax, Gold. We’re going to put you through some erotic scenarios to map your reactions and do more programming.”

There was a short blur of static, then I was on a beach. It was straight off of magazine cover. or maybe a romance novel. Yellowy-purple sunset. Waves lapping the shore. Sea gulls coasting the air currents. It was all rather maudlin and sappy. Right on cue, a guy on a horse came storming down the beach, his long hair and undone shirttail flapping in the wind. By way of VR, I’d been plunked down on the cover of a romance novel. Great.

He rode up close, swung himself off of the horse and landed in front of me.

“Golden wench!”

Maybe it was the drug, or this special VR, I don’t know, but when he cocked back his arm and slapped me across the face I really felt it. I felt a wave of pain rip through my skull, snapping my head backwards.

I felt it.

He slapped me again, sending my face in the other direction, blond hair flying wild. Two massive hands scooped me up and dumped me on the sand. I sprawled face-down, spread eagle on the beach and offered no resistance as two thick fingers probed between my thighs. His other hand was pressed into the small of my back, holding me down. There wasn’t an inch of fight left in me, and I gladly began to ooze and moan as he slowly started his circles in my yoni.

“You aren’t real,” I hissed in the solitude of my chamber. All I could see was that goofy sunset and the lapping waves.

“You aren’t ... real ...”

Those fake fingers were deft and strong. Once again, the trembles started in my long legs, running up and down my muscles until the spasms and electricity seemed to charge in between my thighs. Now my whole body quaked wildly as I screamed and spewed, cumming for a man who did not exist.

“Are you ready, wench?”

I was still screaming as he flipped me over on my back and pulled his massive virtual cock out. There was an answer welling up, but I was too beaten to offer anything. Real. Fake. Rook. Scientist. I’d known nothing but defeat lately, and had nothing left to say.

That’s when the image fell apart. Static, light, and reality ripped through the VR sky. My bodice-ripper lover disappeared in storm of noise and light, leaving me looking at a pair of dark hands ripping the chamber open, tearing off my visor, and sensors.

“Rook?”

My Hero

Alarms were sounding, lights were flashing and the Rook was tearing open the VR chamber, removing my visor and sensors. Speechless, I stared a him wide-eyed.

“There we go,” he growled. I saw that same joyful grin beaming out from behind the mask. The costumed man who had beaten me just days before waas dragging me from my captivity. He punched me with that jab again, blacking me out.

I woke up at one point to see him wading through some of the guards as if they were paper cut-outs. The Rook was rescuing me. He was actually rescuing me.

When I came around again, I was slung over his shoulder, bound hand-and-foot, bouncing as he leap from rooftop to rooftop. We finally came to rest beside the chimney of a home. There was a moment when I was on my back, knees up, hands bound below my back. Then those huge, gloved hands took hold of my throat and lifted me into the air. I let out a pathetic chirp as he slammed me against the chimney. My hands, somehow undone in the tumbling bricks, feebly grasped at the Rook’s wrists. Our eyes met. His raged. My battled to stay open.

In only a matter of seconds he put a grip on my throat so powerful that I could muster neither the might nor the magic to throw him off. I felt the heat of trapped blood in my face; I felt it pounding in my ears. The vice of his hands sealed my windpipe, and I was dying. He had tracked me to that lab for the purpose of taking me out and killing me on his own.

“You’re the third costumed bitch I strangled tonight,” he growled.

Light-headed, fading away, I gave him the picture that he wanted.

“Ah, I like the way your mouth is hanging open, and the way your eye lids are flickering. Yeah, that’s real sexy. That’s why I had to get you away from those geeks. They liked you ‘cause you’re sexy, but I really appreciate how sexy you are, bitch. I couldn’t let those sex toy geeks keep you for themselves. I had to finish the job, and kill you. So sexy. Arachnae looked sexy when I choked her out a few hours ago, but you did much better. You look almost as sexy as Thunder did when I ....”

I was out again, but only for a moment. He woke me with a cold bucket of water. Groaning, dizzy, helpless, I could only gasp and moan as he took hold of my throat again and squeezed. I tried to gulp air, but found only the grin of my tormentor and the crush of those massive hands. He strangled me into blackness again. He did this over and over. Choking me. Reviving me. Strangling me. Reviving me.

“What ... are ... you ... doing?” I whispered when I had a grasp on consciousness. My throat throbbed, and my whole body was close to giving up. There was nothing I could do as he stooped behind me, wrapping his hands around my large breasts.

“Me?” He laughed, kneading the big, round golden mounds. “Knocking myself out knocking you out. “

“Why?”

“Well, for one, it’s fun. For another, you’ve got it coming, baby? Payback’s a bitch ain’t it?”

Confusion further clouded my tortured mind.

“Have we met? I mean, before you beat me and left me to hang.”

His hands were encircling my throat again.

“Oh, we have.” He laughed hard. “You know, I could kill you, but maybe I’ll wait. Maybe I leave you wondering just like some of your other enemies have. Let you wonder when I’m coming back to finish the job. Gotta’ let you suffer.”

“Who ... are ... you?”

He squeezed again, and lifted. He squeezed as my bound boots dangled above the roof. He squeezed as I frantically scanned my mind to recover who he was. He squeezed, and defeated Gold again that night, leaving me crumpled on the rooftop.

There was a longer period this time before I came around. As my ears tuned back in, I could hear the sounds of a fight. There were sharp exhalations and kias. Grunts. Shouts. There were the powerful, but graceful movements of the Rook, and the quicker, faster movements of a woman. When my eyes finally joined it, I was treated to the sight of Arachnae giving a sword hand to the back of a doubled-up Rook’s neck. Red hair flew and her lean, powerful body moved like a martial arts demonstration video. She was almost as good as Scorpio.

Now the Rook had been taken off-guard, and was losing. His big body spasmed and dropped to the concrete. Face down.
Towering over him in her blue and red spandex, Arachnae moved to finish the deal. She spread her fingers, ready to dole out her venom. That was when the shadow loomed behind her.

Of course, I thought as I saw the massive shoulders in black spandex tense to strike.

Two rooks on a chess board.

Taking no notice of his fallen twin, or me, the second Rook lashed out with a massive fist. I watched the red-haired spider woman dissolve into a pile of unconscious female. The next kicks were unnecessary, but evidently fun for him. Gleeful. He was gleeful as he kicked her around the roof.

He loves to kick and punch like his brother loves to strangle.

I was still too weak to speak, move, or resist as he turned to me, saw an open eye, and moved away from her prone form. A black boot eclipsed the moon, and I was out for the last time.

In the morning I flew. My head throbbed, and my body wanted nothing but sleep, but I flew home to become Tracy again. Start again. How had Arachnae found me? Where was she now? Who were the Rooks? What was their beef with me? Was I done with these Erotech guys? I had new challenges. Again, ain’t life grand?