GOLD

Return of Rakshasa: IMPALER IV

Written by Mr. K

Golden Bat breathed in time with them. In. Out. In. Out. She smelled the hair in her face, her hair, the woman’s hair, Roadmaster’s hair. She could smell the salt on their skin, the semen that was smeared on her face, and the vagina juices that had soaked her.

There was still the mass of dildos up her ass and in her vagina.

She also sensed a new presence about her. Her body had outlasted the sex storm, the dust, and now she was fully aware. She didn’t care to fuck any more. She just had to get out of there.

She could feel the weight of the man and woman pressing down on her. Roadmaster had joined his old lady in her ravaging of Golden Bat. He had raged about that “skinny freak” taking his golden girl, and took out his frustration on the two women. As his female cohort fucked Golden Bat, thrusting angrily with her dildo, he entered her from behind. They fucked as one organism, one undulating mass with Golden Bat on the bottom.

She realized that this was where she had been before. Pinned. This was what she hated most. Being pinned.

When the enemy was at arm’s length, she could use leaping, her strength, her Sound - the weapon that made her the Golden Bat. It could be radar, it could be a sonic blast, but it felt almost useless when her senses were numbed and her body pinned. Even if she wasn’t actually neutralized, the feeling of being closed in always left her feeling powerless.

Stuck under the Roadmaster and his woman, Golden Bat realized that it was the captors who had trapped her this way that made her feel the most helpless. Even when she could still use her weapons, she went into a type of panic that would not allow her to.

When The Sculptor gassed her and mummified her, she felt the panic. Her entire body wrapped in super-strong bandages, with only narrow slits for her eyes, Golden Bat felt that claustrophobic panic. As he felt her big, high breasts through the wrapping, all she could offer was muffled protests.

Now, the remnants of the Impaler’s dust were done, and the captors, Roadmaster and his woman, were spent. Hours had passed, and the two were exhausted. They panted atop their young captive. And she still felt the panic. Their words passed back and forth.

“Baby,” Roadmaster whispered to the blond.

“Yeah?” she sighed. Golden Bat, bound and sore from the overwhelming fucking, listened to them.

“You wanna’ fuck her some more, or kill her?”

He was lifting his bulk up from the sex sandwich, groaning. Golden Bat felt the extra weight lift, and saw his sweaty bulk crest over the two women. Half-smirking, eyes drowsy, the hedonistic biker looked down at the pile of blond. His woman was sprawled, face-down, eyes closed, while Golden Bat looked up at him from beneath her. Still mute from the dildo, she could only stare at the big man.

“Let’s take her out back ... kill her in the tub, then go find Gold. I wanna beat up on Gold some more. Get her ready.”

Roadmaster shambled away and left them alone. Golden Bat’s eyes met the woman’s, which were drowsy with sex, but gloating and still hungry.

“You were good. God, that was hours, wasn’t it?”

She undid the girl’s bindings, letting the long, shapely limbs move and stretch again. She pulled Golden Bat up by her hair. Like a scolding school marm, she put the girl over her lap, and removed the dildos. The ass intruder slid out silently, and pussy violator came out with a moist report and a small pop. She then yanked Golden Bat up. Sleek, and smeared with sex, the long-legged beauty allowed herself to be pulled up to a seated position. Her big dancer’s thighs flexed in the spandex. The smell of the woman’s flesh filled her head again as the woman pulled her against her own body and pinned her arms behind her back.

There was a clanking of chains.

“You’re cuffing me.”

“ I am.” She had picked up a pair of hand cuffs and chained Golden Bat’s wrists behind her back.

“To take me outside and kill me, now that you’re done.”

“Kill you, then kill Gold after we find her.”

She pulled the girl up again, and shoved her forward. Past junk, car parts, and boxes of supplies, the topless woman in pantyhose and heels pushed the staggering, chained heroine. Both of them spoke with weak, exhausted voices.

“I’m gonna’ ‘lecrocute you,” the woman said.


Electricity. Golden Bat’s body shuddered at the word. She had an intimate relationship with electricity. She learned that on the day that she battled the super-charged villain named Surge. Beaten, backed into a corner, she had watched him penetrate Ruby Q. Massive volts ran through his cock and into her. Now he stepped over her fallen form, and approached Golden Bat with his massive, sparking cock in his hand.

She would learn a lesson about her weaknesses and strengths that night.

“You hear me?” She shoved Golden Bat, watching with delight as the curvy blond in torn spandex feel to her knees. Roadmaster’s woman pulled her up, slapped her ass, and propelled her forward.

She had been here, also. Golden Bat flashed back to two of Ms. V henchmen walking her down a long hallway. Her wrists were chained then also, and she wore a viciously tight chastity belt that night. Her pussy, now claimed by Ms. V, as going to be kept safe and sound until she wanted to torture it again. The two thugs shoved her along, and sealed her in a tall, plastic display tube. It was labeled GOLDEN BAT, and was small enough that it squeezed her ample breasts and thighs.
Now, she was being shoved along to her death.


Electricity.

In the lot behind Roadmaster’s garage, was the tub. It was just that. A huge, rusty, metal tub. At one point, it was used to test for air bubbles escaping from punctured tires. Now, it stood beside a generator, awaiting captives. This was where Roadmaster shocked his victims.

“Get in the water, Golden Bat.”

Golden Bat was silent, while her captor prattled drunkenly.

“Get in, bitch! My old man don’t wanna fuck you no more. We’re gonna fry you up now.”

It was a strangely quiet night for the city, and the splash echoed as Golden Bat, expressionless, climbed into the vat sat in the water. It came up to her breasts, cresting over the smooth round globes. Her costume was wet now, and shimmered. She watched through sleepy eyes as the half-naked woman tested the battery, sparks leaping between the two clamps.

“Hold still, bitch.”

The big-breasted heroine watched, and felt, and winced as the captor clamped the jagged mouths of the clamps on to her nipples. She held up a third, then simply let it fall into the water between the big thighs.

The sadist beamed as she walked back to the generator, winked at the woman she’d spent hours fucking, and turned on the power. She had helped Roadmaster torture many people in this tub. They were usually big, ugly men who hadn’t paid up on protection for their nasty clubs and whorehouses. They looked ugly, and died ugly.

This woman was a dish. She was all sex, and she would die sexy. The thick muscles in her thighs stiffened and shook below the water. Her jaw clenched, her breasts thrust up, and Golden Bat rode the currents of electricity that surged through her body. Usually, she killed them in bursts, but tonight she just let volt after volt rush through Golden Bat’s tortured body.
Golden Bat shook. And shook. And shook.

And finally, when the woman thought that she saw enough of the light go out in her victim’s eyes. She turned off the power. There was a sort of hiss, and Golden Bat slipped beneath the water.

The woman laughed.

She sauntered up to the tub, beaming and laughing.

She leaned over the water to see the dead woman at the bottom of the tub.

She heard the sound of hand cuffs breaking.


Gold no longer hung by her hair. That had grown old. She heard him mutter something about too much of a good thing when he undid the blondness and let her drop.

Now she was on her side on the floor, long legs curled up, one arm sagging across her waist, the other up by her face. Her hair was still twisted into the long, cruel pony tail that had suspended her. Her eyes were open, but vacant.

“He wants you to give yourself to him. Why not just surrender to Rakshasa?” Impaler was sitting in a plush chair. His pike was across his lap, and he was sipping an herbal tea from her kitchen.

Gold’s voice, usually throaty and lush, came out in strained, tortured chirps.

“Can’t let ... him ... win. Evil....”

“But he’s already won, love.”

He rolled her on to her back. Her arms flopped open, her head rocked from side to side. She looked up at him with sleepy, depleted eyes. Impaler put one black boot down on her. Between her big breasts.

“He’s won, but there’s a problem.”

He pressed down hard, then shifted his foot over to her right tit. He mashed her breast harder and harder.

“You see, I was sent here to make you give up to Rakshasa, but I’ve become addicted to you. I’ve killed and drained several heroines, but I’m addicted to yours.”

She watched a smile spread across his face. This was nothing new - a tormenting villain professing his need, love, desire for her. Thorne wrote songs for her while she was in chains. Geneveve turned her into a statue and placed her in her bedroom just to have her near. The Horseman promised to hang Bora unless Gold professed her love for him between rounds of sucking his cock.


“I love you, Horseman.”

Gasping.

“I love you, Horseman.”

Cum streamers stretched between her sensuously full lips.


Now, Impaler wanted to own her.

“I want to keep you, Gold. I don’t want to give you to him. You see...”

He got down close to her now, balancing his tea on her left breast.

“Before Rak gave me these powers, I didn’t have much luck with the ladies. I’ve had more orgasms tonight than ever before. Yours were the best. I want you. You see....”

He sipped his tea and placed it on her breast again.

“I’ll keep you, and kill you over and over and ...”

The beaten woman felt a presence, like a force of nature, enter the room. She felt Impaler stiffen beside her, and felt his fear for the first time.

“Rakshasa...”

Gold was the ultimate passive observer. Stretched out on floor, legs spread, knees up, she watched as Impaler was levitated by the powers that had beaten her many times before. Tilting her head a bit, she could see Rakshasa sitting where Impaler had been. She could see Impaler, once cool and collected, now frantic and flailing in midair. He was the puppet now.

“So, you were going to keep my Gold, huh?”

“NO! GOD! I was just...”

“And now you’re lying to me. Tracy? Gold? Which shall I call you? Did you hear him say that he wanted to keep you? That’s what I heard.”

Impaler looked to his pike, to Rakshasa, to Gold. Rakshasa was in his handsome human form, and had that same smug male ego look that Impaler had shown a moment before. He turned his finger in a circle, and Impaler rotated.

“Hubris! Hubris defeated you, Impaler. After a night of victories, you forgot your place. Too much pride. Just like Gold here. If she would just surrender, i would free her friends, take her instead. I would take what I desire most.”

Impaler’s eyes shot back and forth between his master and Gold. He let out a scream. Then Impaler ended. Gold was covered in a shower of fine, white power as Impaler was reduced to dust by Rakshasa. She lay still in the blanket of her enemy.

“Well, Gold. What now?”

She started to move. Slowly, she began to roll to one side, trying to press herself up, dust pouring off her body.

“Are you planning on fighting me, Gold?”

He laughed, but she continued. He felt the impulse to simply kill her, or reduce her dust, but he held back. He wanted to play by his own rules.

“Surrender to me, bitch! You have no more powers! You’re beaten! You’re weak! I hold have the superheroines in the city in captivity! GIVE UP!”

Now, she was on her knees, rocking from sheer exhaustion. He stared, dumbfounded. His minion had won. He had won, but she simply would not tell him to take her. That was the plan. That was what he designed.

“Turn them loose,” she said.

“What did you say?”

She gathered her breath, pain still making a nest in her chest. She looked him in the eye.

“I said...”

Both of them were shocked by the sound of breaking glass. Sleek and gleaming, wet and angry, Golden Bat swung through the window of Tracy’s apartment on a rope. There was a new energy in her, a fierceness. She released the sonic blast, and aimed herself at Rakshasa.

The tiger man rolled his eyes.

“This grows tiresome,” he moaned. He blinked, and Golden Bat was turned to stone. Her petrified form fell beside Gold.

“Tiresome. I’m taking my leave of you ladies. We’ll try this again in a bit.”

He was gone in a puff of smoke.


Morning found two blonds in golden body suits on an apartment rooftop. Exhausted, the beauties leaned against each other and watched the sun rise.

“I was going to surrender,” Gold said. “I figured you were dead and ...”

“They tortured me with electricity!” Golden Bat’s perkiness grated against Gold’s exhaustion .

“Got your powers back, huh?”

“And I was good to go. Just like when Surge fucked me.”

Gold looked off into the sunrise again.

“He’s more powerful than all of us, you know,” she said.

“And he’ll be back.”