Victorygirl

 

By L’Espion

 

Priya Rai slowly caressed her full breasts, her fingers lingering on the dark erect nipples.  She took a long shuddering breath as her loins contracted.  “God I’m horny,” she breathed.  She moaned aloud, moving her hands over the cinnamon velvet of her skin to the tight cleft between her thighs.

 

Sweat beaded her panting body.  It was always like this after the drug wore off, but this time it was especially bad.  “I must have taken too strong a concentration,” she muttered.  It was not wise to do that.  The drug that enabled her superpowers had a powerful aphrodisiac after affect.  Taking too much of it would lead to her acting like an uncontrollable nymphomaniac, and she had no wish to wake up exhausted and stinking of sex in some sleazy hotel after she had engaged in a gang bang with a dozen strangers.  That had almost happened once and only the timely intervention of one of her friends had saved her from completely disgracing herself. 

 

She moaned again, as her fingers found her sex.  “God, do I ever need a man,” she groaned.  She looked at image in the full length mirror, trying to focus on what she was and not how she felt.  What she saw was a vision of East Indian beauty. 

 

She was quite petite, standing only five-feet-three-inches and weighing less than a hundred pounds.  Her hair was midnight black and hung past her slender shoulders.  Her body was a perfect hourglass, highlighted by large round breasts that were so firm they scarcely quivered when she moved. 

 

“God, I’m beautiful,” she gasped.  She gritted her teeth.  It wasn’t working.  If anything she was becoming more aroused just looking at herself.  She turned suddenly and strode across the thick area rug covering the marble floor and entered her luxury bathroom.  Grabbing the handle of the shower door she jerked it open.  Her hands turned the gold-plated faucets, directing a shower of frigid water over her panting body. 

 

She almost screamed, but bit back her cry as the water dampened her ardour.  If she made too much noise one of her maids would come running to see what was wrong and above all she couldn’t afford that.  She had dumped her costume in plain sight on the middle of the bedroom floor.  It would not do if her superheroine identity was revealed.  Despite the fact that she revelled in publicity, the last thing she wanted was to be constantly subjected to the twenty four hour attentions of the paparazzi. 

 

She stayed under the cold water until she was numb.  Barely able to move, she staggered from the shower and wrapped a thick towel about herself.  Shivering violently she left the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the luxury carpets and dropped onto the bed.  She breathed  a sigh of relief.  The sexual cravings were still with her , but they were not nearly as bad as they had been. 

 

“I’ve got to be more careful,” she said aloud.  “What if that happened while I was out in public?”  Speaking of public, she just remembered that she had a meeting with the media in an hour.  Her unexpected arousal had temporarily driven the appointment from her mind. 

 

“I’ll just take a small dose of the drug,” she thought.  “Enough to get me through the meeting and not much else.” 

 

The thought of not meeting with the media was something that never crossed her mind.  This was publicity.  And she never missed a chance to show off before her adoring public. 

 

She slid off the bed and kicked her costume into the air, catching it in her right hand.  She noted a slight smear of dirt on the shining white fabric.  “Damn,” she would have to wash it.  She had a spare, but she didn’t want to leave herself without a clean costume and the other one was just as likely to get dirty when she was engaged in one of her missions, so she might as well get the job over with. 

 

She hated any sort of household task, even one as small as washing her miniscule costume.  It made her feel like one of her servants, but she could trust the task to no one else.  Fortunately, there wasn’t much material to wash; the entire costume consisted of only a few square inches of Lycra.  She marched into the bathroom and took out the small bottle of detergent she kept under the sink.

 

As she ran the water she stared into the mirror admiring her dark eyes, high cheekbones, small nose, and pouting lips that characterised her classically beautiful Indo-Aryan features.  She couldn’t help stepping back a little and letting her eyes drift over her high perfect breasts, dark erect nipples, and milk chocolate skin.  It really seemed a shame to cover up such exquisite beauty, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that her costume really didn’t cover very much of her body anyway. 

 

To her annoyance, the spot proved more stubborn than she had hoped.  “Piece of shit,” she muttered.  “I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste any more time doing the work of a house maid.  Wringing the wet material out she muttered another curse and tossed it into the bathroom garbage.  She made a mental note to head down to Harrold’s right after the meeting and pick up several more so she wouldn’t be faced with this irritation, meanwhile she would make do with her spare. 

 

A costume from Harrold’s would cost a small fortune, but the price was of little importance.  The wealth from her inheritance could buy the city’s most exclusive and expensive clothing store many times over.  Money was the least of her concerns and paled into insignificance compared with the importance of maintaining her image.

 

She exited the bathroom, strode past her enormous walk-in closet and yanked open the drawer on her wardrobe.  She touched a concealed catch and a panel slid aside revealing her costume. 

 

It took her only a few seconds to stretch the V-string bikini over her sylphlike body.  It consisted of little more than a thin piece of almost transparent fabric that looped about her slender neck and swept down over her breasts in two widely separated bands that converged at her loins.  It left her buttocks completely exposed and barely covered her mound of Venus and the succulent treasure between her thighs.  Had her globular breasts not been so firm the slightest movement would have dislodged them, but Priya was not the least concerned.  With her, the greater sensation she could create the better.  After all, what was the point in being a superheroine if she could not show off her considerable assets to full advantage.

 

 

She preened for several minutes in front of the bank of mirrors that allowed her to study her body from every angle.  Everything looked good, now there was just one more detail.  She reached into the wardrobe cubby hole one more time and took out a small vial containing a dark blue liquid.  “Just a couple of CCs this time,” she murmured.  “Enough to get me through the interview and back.”  She raised the vial to her lips and drank.

 

She was immediately taken by the drug.  The taste was horrid and she had to fight off her gag reflex to keep it down.  Then its effects swept over her, beginning with a powerful series of cramps that doubled her over and had her using gasping in agony. She had to use all of her strength of will to keep from screaming. 

 

She staggered over to the bed and gripped the ornate art deco bedpost until she thought the wood would splinter under her grip, and then the pain passed, replaced by a wave of euphoria and a sexual surge that left her breathless.  For a few seconds she would have fucked anything male that came through the doorway, but then the feeling passed, replaced by the sense of power and invulnerability that she always associated with the drug. 

 

Priya felt that nothing on the face of the earth could possibly harm her, something that she knew was patently untrue.  The drug gave her immense strength; the ability to fly; tremendous endurance; the ability to heal minor injuries almost instantly; the power to cool objects to below freezing with her breath; and special vision that enabled her to deliver hammer blows with her eyes.  However, she was not invulnerable.  If she was stabbed or hit by a bullet it could kill her if the damage was severe enough.  Nevertheless, any minor injuries she could shrug off, and the fact that her tremendous speed and reflexes placed all criminals at her mercy gave her tremendous confidence. 

 

She paused one more time in front of the mirror.  She so enjoyed looking at herself, but it was more than that.  She enjoyed it even more when people looked at her.  For her adoring public nothing less than perfection would do.  It never hurt to give herself one more careful check.  She frowned, focusing on her image.  Was she showing a little bit too much tit; or not enough?  Her nipples were barely concealed and she didn’t want to become a victim of the Janet Jackson Syndrome. 

 

“I’ll do,” she thought.  Stepping to the balcony of her luxury townhouse she launched herself into the air.  She rose straight up, gaining altitude in order to prevent anyone on the ground from seeing where she had come from and then levelled off. 

 

The flight across town to the interview would normally have taken only minutes, but halfway there she picked up a message on the police band micro-receiver she carried inside her ear. 

 

“Hostage-taking in progress,” the message crackled.  “Bank robbers holed up in Central City Bank.  Send for SWAT.”

 

“SWAT,” Priya sneered.  They’d be most likely to kill the hostages by mistake.  This was a job for Victorygirl and one that would make her meeting with the media even more impressive.  She changed course and swept down on the bank.

 

She frowned as she circled the thirty story building.  The police were there in force, but where were the television news vehicles?  This was a prime time event.  There seemed little point in charging in to the rescue unless there was someone there to film it.  Hoping that she hadn’t been seen, she circled the building and came to a landing on its roof.  Damn this was irritating.  Did she have to do everything herself?  For a few brief seconds she considered phoning Central City TV and giving the production manager a piece of her mind, but then she remembered that she could probably do that during the in depth interview this afternoon.  She would just wait until the cameras turned up and then go into action

 

She didn’t have to wait long.  Several news vans pulled up behind the police barricades and a dozen reporters and cameramen piled out.  “Slackers,” she muttered.  “Probably covering some story about a kid falling into a well instead of doing their jobs.”  She moved to the edge of the building and plummeted dramatically into the developing media scrum.

 

“Victorygirl!” shouted one of the reporters.  “You going to save the day?” 

 

She turned in the direction the questioner, arching her body slightly to emphasize her impressive breasts.  She had landed on the roof of one of the TV vans in order to stand taller than the surrounding police officers and members of the media.   Acutely conscious of the fact that she stood only a few inches over five feet, she tried to make sure that she positioned herself to look down on anyone in her presence.  Whenever she couldn’t her four inch spike heels helped to give her those extra inches she needed to make up the difference. 

 

She gave the reporter, a good looking man she knew very well, her most dazzling smile.  “Hi Bill.  I certainly intend to once the police have explained the situation.”

 

“Victorygirl.”  This time the voice was not quite so welcoming.  Pushing his way through the circle of reporters and cameramen was the Central City Police chief.  She and Chief Meyers had often locked horns over her intervention in what he considered “police matters.”  In private he had even had the bad manners to accuse her of being nothing more than a glory hunting exhibitionist who was turned on by showing off her tits and tight ass in front of the cameras. 

 

“Chief Meyers,” she answered with false enthusiasm.  “How nice to see you again.  You and your men come up against something you can’t handle again?”

 

“There is no ‘again,’” the Chief answered, his face turning beet red.  “The police have the situation under control and don’t need the help of an interfering amateur.”

 

Priya ignored the insult.  She was secure in her position as the darling of the media.  No matter how much they might dislike her the police didn’t dare ignore her or try to prevent her from helping.  She had saved the lives of too many citizens and broken up too many brazen robberies not to be taken seriously.  And her popularity with the media and average citizen gave her a position of influence that could not be disregarded.  

 

“And just what is the situation, Chief?” she asked.

 

The members of the media and the assembled onlookers looked at the Chief expectantly.  His face turning scarlet, he shrugged and then answered.  “I’d rather not discuss it in public.  The situation is rather delicate.”

 

“Perhaps we could speak privately,” Priya suggested sweetly.  She knew she had won the confrontation.  The Chief would be forced to explain what was going on which was the same as including her in the operation.  He would not be able to object when she took matters into her own hands and pulled off a spectacular rescue.

 

“Over here,” the Chief said, motioning toward a small command centre that had been set up just across the from the bank.  He motioned the police officers that were there to move away so that he could speak to the superheroine.

 

Lightly, Priya leapt from the roof of the van and landed next to the fuming police chief.  He was in her face before her feet even touched the ground.  “Look you little twat.  We don’t need your help.  There are innocent people trapped in that bank and I don’t want you crashing in and placing their lives in danger.  You’ve got no idea just how lucky you’ve been that so far your show-off style of law enforcement hasn’t gotten anyone killed.”

 

“Why, Chief,” Priya answered pleasantly.  “I do believe you’re jealous.  Are you afraid you’ll lose your job if I deal with too many dangerous situations?  Well, don’t worry.  I’m sure there will be lots of parking tickets you can issue and any number of drunks you can haul off to the slammer.  You just leave the realy difficult cases to me.  Or would you rather I go on TV and tell everyone that the only superheroine in the city has been forbidden to save any lives by the Chief of Police?

 

The Chief ground his teeth.  The police were already under heavy criticism following a round of scandals involving police brutality, corruption, and plain incompetence.  It would not go down well with the Police Commission if Victorygirl was excluded from her crimefighting endeavours. 

 

“Go ahead then, you little whore.  Just try not to get anyone killed.”

 

“Oh no, Chief,” Priya responded.  “I think that’s more your department.”

 

The Chief turned an even darker shade of red.  They both knew that Priya was referring to a horrendous shootout in which the police had accidentally killed and wounded a half dozen innocent bystanders. 

 

“Fuck you,” the Chief swore.

 

“Not today,” Priya laughed.  “You’re a bit too old for me.”  Without waiting for an answer she rose into the air and after describing a slow circle in front of the cameras, she headed straight for the bank.

 

Speed in a hostage situation was critical.  She was relying on the fact that the thugs inside the bank could not react fast enough to harm anyone before she was on top of them.  It was a good bet.   At full speed her body was just a blur and she was helped by the fact that the bank stood in a relatively open area.  She had determined when she arrived that the sun would be behind her when she made her move.  She doubted that anyone in the bank would even see her until it was too late. 

 

She also didn’t take the obvious route into the bank.  They would be excepting her to take the front door or one of the windows.  Instead she headed straight for one of the top floors and burst in through an upper window. 

 

She found herself in a rather plush executive suite, but she didn’t bother to chat with the startled businessmen or admire the plush furniture.  She headed straight for the elevator shaft.  As she wrenched open the door she smiled to herself.  There was more than one way to gain the main floor.  The hostage takers were in for a real surprise. 

 

She dropped twenty stories straight down.  As she expected the elevator itself was on the bottom floor, but she knew that the hostage takers had probably disabled it by pushing the emergency button.  She could hear the bells ringing all the way down the shaft. 

 

She smashed through the access hatch in the top of the elevator without stopping and rushed through the open doors.  As she entered the main floor of the bank her eyes swept the room, taking in everything in less than a split second.  There were about thirty people in the bank, six robbers and two dozen hostages. 

 

The hostages were lying face down on the floor, two men with guns standing over them.  Another two were standing at the windows, watching the police outside, and the last two were behind the customer service area.  One of them was holding a phone.  No doubt he had been talking to the police. 

 

She didn’t even pause to make a decision.  She might be vain and attention seeking, but Priya was good at what she did.  Without hesitation she headed straight for the two men guarding the hostages.

 

To her superheroine senses everything seemed to happen in slow motion.  The men by the hostages began to turn their heads in the direction of her attack, but they never finished before she was on top of them.  She didn’t hit them hard.  She had never forgotten the sickening smack when her fist had smashed through the skull of a hold-up man early in her career, but her fists hit them hard enough that both men were unconscious before they hit the floor. 

 

Even as they were falling she was moving toward the two men at the windows.  They just had time to turn before she took out each of them, slamming their bodies hard into the thick glass of the bank’s windows.  The entire attack had lasted less than a couple of seconds and she was already heading toward the last two robbers.  And then everything seemed to speed up.

 

Priya knew at once what had happened.  The Victorygirl drug had worn off.  She had taken only enough to get her to the interview and back, a period of about two hours.  She had completely forgotten that any extra exertion of her superheroine powers used up the drug at several times the normal rate.  

 

“Shit,” she thought.  “What a time for this to happen.”  The last two robbers were over thirty feet away, but without her super speed there was no way of reaching them before they reacted and no way of dealing with them in any case without her super powers.  For all intents and purposes she was nothing more than an extraordinarily attractive young female in a V-string bikini facing two heavily armed men.  There was only one thing she could do.

 

She came to a complete halt in the middle of the bank and placed her hands on her hips.  Thrusting out her chest, she stared calmly at the two remaining robbers who were staring at her in stunned amazement from behind the customer service counter. 

 

“Well boys,” she asked in her loudest and (she hoped) most confident voice.  “Are you going to come quietly or do I have to give you the same treatment as your four friends received?” 

 

The two men looked at her with a mixture of fear, curiosity, and finally lust.  Priya was used to all three reactions, but she hoped that the first emotion was the dominant one.  She could imagine what must be running through the minds of the two remaining bank robbers.  They had just seen an incredibly beautiful and deadly young woman disable four men without effort in less than two seconds.  They must have known that they would be next and must be wondering why she had stopped. 

 

Priya moved slowly toward the hostages, placing herself between the two remaining men and the people lying on the floor as if she was protecting them.  She had to gamble that the two last two robbers would think she was attempting to protect the hostages and not call her bluff.  At the same time she was desperately hoping that one of the hostages would have the intelligence to get to his or her feet and go for the police. 

 

“You’re finished you know,” she continued.  “Lay down your guns and I won’t have to kick your backsides from one end of the bank to the other.”

 

One of the robbers slowly stepped forward.  He was still holding his gun.  Behind her Priya could hear movement as several of the hostages did what she had hoped and took advantage of the situation to escape.  The robber who was moving seemed not to notice.  His eyes were fixed on her and there was something in them that made Priya distinctly uneasy.

 

“I don’t think so,” said the robber slowly.  “I don’t know what just happened, but there is something funny going on here.  You had us completely at your mercy, but decided not to finish the job.  I think that is because you had no choice.  Something’s happened to your powers hasn’t it?”

 

Priya continued to bluff, but she had broken out in a cold sweat.  Part of it was from the reaction that always followed when the drug wore off, but a good deal of it was fear.  In all of her career as a superheroine she had never faced any criminals without her powers.  The man facing her was over six feet tall and powerfully built.  In addition, he was still armed.  If he was any kind of shot he could bring her down before she took a single step. 

 

She held her ground.  “You know nothing of my powers.  I can take you any time.  Save yourself a lot of pain and lay down your guns.”

 

The other robber spoke up.  “She’s faking it, Brett.  Look at her.  You can see the sweat pouring off her.”  Rather than lowering his gun he raised it, drawing a bead on Priya’s chest.

 

Behind her Priya could hear more hostages making a break for it.  The robber who had spoken to Brett noticed it as well.  “Hey, the fucking hostages are getting away.”

 

“Let ‘em go, Mike.  We don’t need them.  I think we’ve got ourselves a superheroine instead.”  Brett placed a hand on the counter and vaulted over it.  He crossed the space to Priya in four strides.  He loomed over her.  “That’s right isn’t it, bitch?  We’ve got you and if we’ve got you we don’t need any other hostages.”

 

“You haven’t got me yet,” Priya retorted.  As part of her training and as a way to keep in shape Priya had studied several forms of martial arts.  As Brett stood in front of her she aimed what she hoped was a disabling blow at his crotch. 

 

The only problem was that Brett seemed to have done a bit of studying himself, or perhaps it was that she telegraphed her blow.  In any case, as her knee came up he stepped back and then moving forward he clipped the side of her head with the barrel of his gun. 

 

Stunned by the cowardly blow, the petite heroine fell to her knees.  Somehow she managed to remain conscious, but that only made it all the more mortifying as Brett pushed her to the floor, jerked her arms behind her, and then bound her securely. 

 

Priya yelped in pain as the thug grabbed her hair and yanked her to her feet.  “Now you know what you’re up against don’t you bitch?  He leered into her face.  “You and I are going to have some fun before we’re through.”

 

Priya stared back at him in confusion.  How could she have let this happen?  She was Central City’s most powerful heroine, and she had been brought to her knees by a couple of common thugs.  How could she have been so stupid as to forget that she had taken only a small amount of the drug that enabled her superheroine powers? 

 

“Not so self assured now are you heroine?  I’m not sure what happened to you, but it’s nothing compare to what’s going to happen.”

 

“You, son-of-a-bitch.  Let me go or I’ll make to sorry you ever laid eyes on me.”  Priya glowered at the thug who had captured her.  Her response was part anger, part fear, and part lust.  What would this humiliating turn of events do to her carefully nurtured heroine image?  It would make her a laughingstock.  Who ever heard of a superheroine being captured by a couple of lowlife gangsters? 

 

“Laying my eyes on you is the least of what I plan to do,” Brett replied.  He slid his had under the thin band of cloth that partially covered her left breast.  Priya winced as he closed his hand hard over the soft flesh, but at the same time she almost moaned in pleasure. 

 

“Get your hands off me you prick!” Priya cried.  She was more afraid of responding to his fondling than she was of what he was doing, but at the same time she was outraged that he would dare treat any woman that way.

 

In reply the robber boss pinched her nipple.  Priya clenched her teeth.  That hurt.  And it drove home just how vulnerable she was.  If Brett chose he could do anything he wanted to her, including subjecting her to the most depraved of sexual tortures.  She had watched his face as he hurt her and there was nothing of normal pleasure in his eyes.  He was enjoying hurting her.  It sent cold thrill of fear through her. 

 

“You bastard,” she grunted.  “You get your jollies out of hurting women?  You’re nothing but a gutless coward.”

 

“Before I’m finished with you bitch you’re going to be crying in pain.  I’m going to hurt you like you’ve never been hurt before.”  He slid his hands lower, going to the mound that hid her sex.  “Jesus,” he crowed, “I see you’re well prepared.”  He slid his hands over her vulva stroking her and then inserted a finger between her nether lips.

 

Priya experienced two reactions, one of shame and one of arousal.  He had discovered her carefully depilated pussy.  It had cost small fortune to have the hair permanently removed, but she thought it had been worth it.  She had, however, never counted on some small-time criminal fondling her there.

 

She bit back a moan.  Christ, if he touched her one more time she wouldn’t be able to control herself, but just then Brett’s accomplice yelled at him. 

 

“Stop fucking with the heroine and give me a hand.  The police could stage a rush at any time.  They don’t know we’ve got her hostage.”

 

Reluctantly, Brett withdrew his hand and Priya breathed more easily.  “Later, bitch,” Brett commented.  “I’ll be looking forward to fucking your tight little ass.”

 

The horror of her situation almost drove away her lust.  She was in the hands of a sadistic thug.  If there was a worse scenario she couldn’t think of one.  “What would that gain you? Priya asked.  “That sort of brutality will simply get you a longer jail sentence.”

 

“With all the crimes I’ve committed I’ll be in for life anyhow,” Bret replied.  “Might as well add rape and torture to the list.  They can’t give me any more for that.  Besides, it’s not every day that I get to work over a superheroine.”

 

Priya gasped in pain as Brett roughly propelled her toward the door.  He had used a lamp cord to bind her elbows together so that they were pinched into the middle of her back.  It was incredibly painful, making it very hard to breathe while at the same time forcing her to arch her back and thrust her prominent breasts forward.  She began to sweat in fear and apprehension.  Suddenly she felt her sexual desire returning.  Somehow her very helplessness had her incredibly aroused. 

 

“Oh God,” she thought.  “I’m completely at their mercy.  They can do anything they want with me.”  Suddenly, she was very very frightened.  So frightened that her terror drove all thoughts of sex out of her mind.  For a few seconds she had found her situation sexually stimulating, but that was gone, replaced by a leaden weight in her guts that would not go away.    

 

Holding her by the arms, Brett marched her across the room to the front entrance of the bank.  Holding her by the cord that bound her arms he pushed her into the open, but stayed directly behind her, using her as a human shield. 

 

Brett shouted over her head to the waiting SWAT team.  “I’ve got your heroine.  If you want her to live another five minutes you’ll listen very carefully to what I have to say.”

 

It was her worst nightmare.  Not only had she failed to apprehend the bank robbers, but she had been taken hostage herself.  She could see the news cameras trained on her and knew that she would be on every six o’clock newscast.  It was not the type of publicity she had been hoping for.  To be captured by such low level criminals was the ultimate humiliation.  She wanted to shrink into the concrete and disappear as Brett made his demands.

 

Had it been up to Chief Meyers she doubted that any of the demands would have been met.  He would have welcomed her demise, but even his intense dislike did not blind him to the fact that he had to at least give the appearances of being on her side.  He gave Brett everything he asked for.  It was only as the powerful SUV was speeding away from the bank with her tied in the back seat that she realized giving Brett and the other bank robbers what they demanded was the perfect way for the police chief to be rid of her.  One of Brett’s demands was that he and his gang not be followed.  If that demand was carried out there would be little hope of rescue.

 

It was only then that Priya’s fear exceeded her state of arousal.  Suddenly she was scared stiff.  What if Brett and his men had their way with her and then …

 

“No,” she thought.  The idea was unthinkable.  Superheroines were not kidnapped and murdered.  Were they?  She had never heard of such a thing.  But she came to the sudden understanding that it was the perfect way to dispose of her.  However, she decided to brazen it out.  As the car sped into the tunnel beneath the East River, she opened her mouth and voiced her displeasure.

 

“You’ll never get away with this.  You better let me go.  I’m a superheroine.  I’ve got powerful friends.”  She felt foolish making such threats.  The robbers had tied her ankles together and bent her knees up and secured them to the cord binding her elbows.  She could hardly move and could barely draw a breath.  Her only consolation was the fact that no one had made the least effort to remove her costume.  But then there really was no need.  The V-string bikini was so brief that it hid very little of her body and quite possibly the robbers preferred to let her keep her clothing for the time being.

 

Her protests gained Brett’s attention.  It was clear that he was the leader of the bank robbers.  When he gave orders everyone carried them out.  “Never get away with it? Brett asked.  “I’d say we’re doing pretty well so far.”

 

“You must be crazy,”Priya continued.  “Do you really think the police won’t follow you.  No doubt the car is bugged and there is a police helicopter somewhere overhead.”

 

“I thought about that,” Brett answered smugly.  “That’s why we’re taking the tunnel.  A copter can’t see us in here.”

 

“But you have to come out,” Priya insisted.  “You’ll be spotted as soon as you do.”

 

Brett only smiled.  Priya soon saw why a few minutes later. 

 

The SUV came to a halt halfway through the tunnel.  Priya wondered what that was all about until her feet were loosened and she was pulled out of the vehicle.  She saw that they had stopped by a door in the wall of the tunnel.  All at once she understood.  “Shit,” she thought.  “They’re going to try to escape through one of the maintenance tunnels.”

 

Brett grinned at her expression.  “Not so stupid now am I?  And don’t worry I haven’t forgotten about you.  When we get to where we’re going you and I are going to have a nice long session.”

 

The after-effects of the superheroine drug had worn off.  Priya now felt only fear at Bretts’s suggestion.  There were a total of six bank robbers.  What if every one of them decided to have a turn?  Several of them had openly threatened her when they had regained consciousness.  A few of the threats had been extremely graphic in their brutality.   Suddenly the thought of being at the mercy of a band of criminals was not quite so appealing, but she was given no further chance to object. 

 

Before she could protest Brett suddenly stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth and tied it in place.  “Don’t want you giving us away,” he grinned.  Taking her by the arm he directed her through the open doorway.  With a loud clang it closed behind her.

 

Priya didn’t have much time to take in her surroundings.  She was force marched through the tunnel as the robbers hurried in their attempt to escape.  She noticed only that she was in a long concrete tunnel.  Here and there a door opened to one side or the other, but the robbers ignored them, moving through the semidarkness as fast as they could.

 

Within minutes, Priya’s chest was heaving.  She simply couldn’t enough air through her nose and the gag prevented her from breathing through her mouth.  Her captors, however, ignored her distress and moved on without paying her any attention, except to jerk her roughly by the arms when she moved too slowly.  By the time their frantic pace slowed, she was ready to collapse. 

 

“It looks all clear, boss,” said one of the men.  Priya had heard him called Fred.  Apparently the gang members all used first names when they were on a job.  Probably none of them were real.  It mattered very little to Priya what they called one another, but she had particular reason to remember Fred.  He was a huge man, probably weighing well over three hundred pounds and during the ride in the SUV he had made a point of telling her in graphic detail everything he was going to do to her.

 

“Right,” Brett answered.  “Is the van there?”

 

“Right where we parked it,” Fred answered.

 

“Alright, let’s go, but keep a tight hold on the heroine just in case.”

 

“No problems about that,” Fred grinned.  He placed his hand on Priya’s right breast as he manhandled her forward. 

 

Priya grunted in pain as Fred’s huge hand crushed her breast.  It gave her an idea of what to look forward to, and she was filled with an almost overwhelming sense of panic.  Her knees almost buckled in fear and she would have fallen had Fred not held her up.

 

“Come on, bitch,” the huge man growled.  “I can’t fuck you here.  Wait until we get to the hideout.”  He helped her to the van, opened the back door and literally threw her inside. 

 

Priya found herself in a walled off area in the back of the van.  It was empty except for her and sealed off from the rest of the van by a metal grill.  It made the perfect place to keep her as the van started up and drove off.  Any thoughts about somehow getting the door open and jumping out of the moving vehicle were banished when she heard the click of the doors locking.  She was trapped until her captors let her out.

 

The drive to wherever they were going was uneventful.  There were no windows in the van so she could only see through the front windshield and that view was obscured by the grill and the heads of the gang members.  Several times one of them turned around in his seat to stare at her.  She didn’t like the way any of them looked at her. 

 

“What am I going to do?” she wondered.  She had sometimes fantasized about being captured and forced to submit to the attentions of a bunch of criminals, but the reality was horribly different.  Except for Brett, who was sort of cute, none of the gang members were the sort she would normally have slept with. 

 

There was Mike, who had been with Brett when she had been taken prisoner.  He was heavyset, with several days’ growth of beard and a slight beer-belly.  Next there was Tony.  He was thin, pimply-faced and had teeth that looked as if they had never been anywhere near a toothbrush.  The forth member of the band was Phil.  He was older than the others, probably in his forties, and looked as if his life had been pretty rough.  He had a fairly long beard and a nose that was heavily veined, possibly from too close an acquaintance with the bottle.  Then there was George.  He was a scowling thug in his mid-thirties.  She thought that there was something very strange about him.  He never smiled and when he turned his cold blue eyes on her it sent shudders down her spine.  And finally there was Fred.  He had already made his intentions more than clear.  She felt complete helplessness and dread as the van slowed and then drove into what seemed to be a large industrial building.

 

Brett got out of the driver’s seat and marched around to the rear doors.  He opened them, and taking Priya by the arm pulled her out of the vehicle.  “Home sweet home,” he grinned. 

 

Priya looked around her.  She was inside what appeared to be a warehouse.  The van was parked next to a loading dock with a flight of concrete stairs at one end.  Brett led her toward the stairs and then up them onto the loading dock.  From there he moved her toward a door.  Fred was already there.  The big thug produced a key and unlocked the door.  With a knowing sneer he motioned for Brett and Priya to precede him into the room.

 

It was not what she had expected.  She was picturing the inside of a warehouse with rows of industrial shelving and stacks of cardboard boxes; instead what she walked into was a large and rather comfortable living area, complete with a widescreen HD TV; several comfortable couches; and a bar and refrigerator.  It was obvious that no members of the gang were into cleaning.  The room stank of tobacco smoke and contained several ashtrays filled to overflowing.  Numerous empty bottles and cans littered the room, standing on almost every level surface.  Plates of partly eaten food and empty pizza boxes were scattered about.

 

Brett made no apologies for the mess.  He pushed her forward until she was standing in the middle of the room.  All the gang members filed in and stood in a circle around her.  Priya almost wet herself.  It was everything she could do not to sink to the floor and curl up into a ball.  Her heart was beating so rapidly that she felt like a rabbit surrounded by hungry wolves.

 

“What do you think she’s worth?” Mike asked.  “Think we could get a couple hundred grand for her?”

 

“We’ll have to see,” answered Brett.  Who knows how much the city will pay to get its superheroine back.  But if we start high we can’t go too wrong.”

 

“A couple of hundred thousand?” Priya thought.  She spent that much in a couple of months of casual shopping.  But she couldn’t ransom herself.  It would give away her secret identity.  But on the other hand if paying her own ransom was the difference between being set free or remaining a prisoner, then what choice did she have?

 

“What’s all this talk about ransom?” someone said.  It was the first time Priya had heard that voice and she turned her head in the direction of the speaker.  It was George, and his tone was distinctly menacing. 

 

“Since when did we become kidnappers?” he continued.  “We’re bank robbers.  I say we fuck her, beat her up, and then get rid of her.  Ransoming her is too risky.”

 

“Well,” Brett answered, “I think it’s too late to worry about being kidnappers.  We’ve already got her.  I agree about the fucking, but bumping her off seems like a hell of a waste.  We could get more for her than in ten bank jobs.  I expect a few million wouldn’t be out of range.”

 

“Why don’t we try her out now?” Tony suggested.  “Who knows?  It might be weeks before we can arrange a ransom.  We might as well find out if she’s worth keeping.”

 

“An excellent idea,” Brett agreed.  “I’m sure our heroine won’t mind if we find out if she’s worth keeping alive.” 

 

As he finished speaking he removed the gag, allowing Priya to draw a proper breath for the first time in over an hour.  She sucked in several lungfuls of air and then gasped out a protest.  “You can’t do this,” she said, when she was able to catch her breath.  I’m a superheroine.  You’ve got to treat me with respect.” 

 

Brett laughed for a good thirty seconds as did the men around her.  All but George.  “You’re really something,” the gang leader finally said.  “You dress like a whore at a bachelor party and talk about respect.  I’ll give you respect.  Without warning he backhanded her across the face.