by
marat
Chapter Four
Crimson Flare rocked backwards,
exulting in the knowledge that her hero had now embraced her as his own.
She was now the object of his love, a love that had physically manifested
itself. She scooped and pushed the viscous fluid that had been spread over
her small hard breasts downward, downward, past her firm stomach toward her
hungry sex. There, visible to all but the heroine herself, the organ bloomed;
its blossom sent sharp tingles across her hips and up her spine, which only
added to her bliss. Her body shivered and jerked involuntarily as the message
of his yearning for her sank deep into her distorted consciousness. Her mind
did not see the blossom; nor did she sense the humiliation of her actions.
Rather, she only knew that she was protecting the seed of her god-lover the
only way she could, by internalising it.
Must protect
him, she thought.
He meant this for only me.
Through the mists that surrounded
her, she heard his laughter and his voice told her that he was pleased. It
swam up at her from the depths of that fog. Crimson Flare, do you know
what you are doing?
Yes.
Are you trying to make
me happy?
Yes, my
lord.
You do well. But you must
do more. Will you do all that I require of you?
Oh, yes, my lord. I only live
to fulfill your
needs.
Good, Crimson Flare, very
good. I am very pleased. But now you must please those who serve me. If you
do this, you will satisfy me. Will you serve others to serve
me?
Oh,
yes.
*****
Then you will wait on your
knees, Fareed Gouyannou said softly, his malicious smile reflecting
his deep enjoyment of the moment.
The naked superheroine shifted
her weight forward. The satin gloves that covered her powerful hands were
encrusted with the seed of Nick Napolitano. She placed them on the hard floor
as she curled her legs under her bare hips. The scuffle of her black leather
boots as they settled under her was the only sound in the hushed ballroom.
Outside the wind rose and rattled the French doors again, but hardly anyone
heard the sound, fascinated by the defeat of Mitropoulos Champion.
She settled back on her haunches, looking blankly, expectantly, straight
ahead, but seeing only what her tortured mind played out before her.
Good, said Gouyannou,
now stay as you are, and they will come to you. They will tell me if
you have kept your word.
Oh, yes, my lord,
Crimson Flare mumbled, almost incomprehensibly. She rested calmly, serenely,
on her haunches, her petite but magnificent body swaying in the middle of
the roomful of men.
Smiling, Gouyannou stepped back.
Gentlemen, he said, your slave
awaits.
Three gang members stepped forward
immediately. Roughly they pulled the insensible heroine upward.
The last female observer of the
Masked Maidens humbling finally left the room, choking back tears,
her sisters awaiting her in the anteroom beyond. Their last desperate hope
that somehow the Champion of Mitropoulos would be spared this degradation
was gone.
*****
Lynn and Maria traveled silently
back toward Karens apartment. In Lynns mind, confusion and fear.
Why would Gouyannou want Crimson Flare? What was happening to her now? Was
she dead? Or worse?
Marias mind was likewise
a jumble. Why had the criminals freed her? What was the involvement of her
partner, Tim Westbrook, in these events, if any? Could these two women still
act to save Crimson Flare?
As Lynns blue Ford pulled
into a parking space outside the apartment building, the rain, until now
either sporadic and misty, began to pour down, loudly pelting the vans
roof. But the two women seemed almost unaware of these conditions as they
both stepped into the deluge and made their way to the buildings entrance.
They failed to notice the Lexus that had pulled into the lot behind them,
its two occupants quietly watching as they entered the building. Only when
the lights in the fifth floor apartment winked on, indicating that the women
had arrived, did the shadowy figures venture into the downpour. They carried
large containers with them, whose contents would be used to erase evidence
of the crime.
The men entered the lobby and
headed directly for the stairs.
*****
Crimson Flares addled brain
slowly struggled its way through the haze. She had quietly endured numerous
lovers, as commanded by her god. But now her body ached as the effects of
the heroin cocktail began to diminish. The avengers great strength
proved insufficient against the pain that was now gripping her. She felt
sharp blasts streaming across her hips and up her spine, agony such as she
had never felt before. It seemed to be emanating from inside her very being.
At the same time, the hard wood floor pressed against her naked torso. It
felt cold.
Small beads of perspiration rolled
down her face and neck in response to the torment that gripped her within,
a torture spreading across her body like an open flame, spreading outward
from her hips, from
her most private
.
She groaned. The emptiness she
felt only added to the suffering.
A voice from behind her asked
soothingly, Crimson Flare, are you in pain?
Y-yes, she
mumbled.
Do you want relief from
your pain?
She took a deep breath and felt
the anguish surge up her spine to her shoulders and down her arms. She shook
as she replied, Please. Yes. Help me.
You have to
pay.
For the first time, she opened
her eyes. Through the mist, she saw that she was naked.
Wh-what?
You have to pay. Relief
from pain is expensive. What do you have that you can pay us
with?
She remembered how she had paid
the Normans in the abandoned subway stop. Tears roiled up in her eyes and
poured over her black mask.
II
Surely you must have an
offering, an offering to the gods. Fareed Gouyannou began to chuckle,
then cut himself off.
Another sharp spasm of hot pain
lacerated her hips, and the Champion of Women tried to catch her
breath.
Breathing hard, her face and
neck now streaked with perspiration, she looked around for assistance.
I
dont
.
Ill help you, Crimson
Flare, a voice said from behind her. She twisted her naked body and
tried to sit up, but failed. She saw a muscular young man enter and move
across her hazy field of vision. But you will have to satisfy me
first.
Gouyannou spoke to the hapless
girl. You have agreed to do as we demand, slave. You must satisfy your
master first; before you receive your relief from
pain.
And after, the young
man said.
And after, repeated
Gouyannou.
Crimson Flare struggled to her
feet, awkwardly, still in a daze. Her boots clumped and clicked on the hardwood
floor as she stumbled across the room. Though he was only a few meters away,
her agony and disorientation meant that she required a great deal of time
to reach the young man. When Crimson Flare finally found her way to him,
the Maiden dropped to her knees.
No, not here, he
said, angrily, as she began to undo his pants. Get up and come with
me, you slut.
Obey him! Gouyannou
ordered sharply.
Frightened by the tone of her
masters, her gods, the bewildered and helpless heroine again struggled to
her feet, yanking at the young mans clothing, desperately trying to
pull herself up and to bring her feet under her, so that she could walk with
him. It was a difficult, almost vain, struggle. On the verge of sobbing,
she eventually succeeded, though she now leaned heavily against his shoulder
as he led her from the ballroom.
Brandon, Gouyannou
called after him.
Yes, sir, the muscular
young man replied, stopped in his tracks.
Dont break her. She
has much to do for us.
Crimson Flare leaned in and began
to sensually kiss his chest, shoulders and neck, working her way upward toward
his lips and face. Brandon had to push her away to respond. I understand,
sir.
And Crimson Flare.
Gouyannou said softly.
She did not answer though she
ceased in her caresses.
You will do as he
requests.
Crimson Flare resumed her kisses
and licks.
Brandon led her across the room
and through an open door.
The door slammed
shut.
*****
Once the two women reached the
apartment, Lynn headed directly for the bathroom, already removing her wet
outer clothing. Once there, she removed all of the soaked outerwear, and
threw on a thick cloth robe. Use the bedroom, there on the right,
she called to Maria. Maria disappeared into the small room, closing the door
behind her. Inside she found a similar robe, one that belonged to Karen,
lying on the bed. She quickly put in on and returned to the living room.
As Maria seated herself on the sofa, Lynn took herself to the kitchen to
prepare a hot drink.
Coffee or
tea?
Coffee, please, Maria
replied.
All we have is instant,
she cautioned.
Thats all
right.
While waiting for the water to
boil, Lynn stood in the doorway, silently hoping that Maria would remember
something, anything, from her captivity.
A sharp creak from the floorboards
in the hallway outside the room brought the two women back to their senses,
and to an awareness of the danger that might be pursuing
them.
Almost before they could act,
a heavy body smashed against the entrance to the apartment. The door held,
but a second crash quickly followed.
Again, the door remained steadfastly
secure.
The women stared briefly at one
another. Then Lynn headed for the bedroom that housed her combination office
and library. Follow me, she said, surprising the policewoman
with her calmness.
Its not a panic room,
but its the next best thing.
Closing the door behind them,
Maria, saw that a steel door had been paintedcamouflaged, reallyto
appear similar to any of the other of the apartments entryways. That
and the reinforced walls, also plainly visible from the inside of the room,
would protect them until the police could arrive. But Lynn had no such interest
in the rooms security. There, she said, pointing at a cabinet
in the far corner. We have a gun there. You know how to use
it.
Pulling open the cabinet, Maria
saw not a single weapon, but two. She picked up the .38 revolver and moved
back toward the door. Lynn had fired up the computer and, as Maria watched,
the monitor flared to life, revealing a television image from the living
room. She wasnt surprised to see two men busy there. The heavy security
door was an obstacle they couldnt overcome, so they had begun splashing
a liquid across the furniture and floor from some containers they had evidently
brought with them. The smell of gasoline penetrated even into the
library.
Come on, Lynn said,
picking up a gun from the desk. She led Maria through another door into a
dark hallway. The lithe blonde flicked a switch that brightened the passage.
Maria recognised as she turned the first corner that it led along side the
outer room where the intruders were now doing their dirty work.
Be ready to use that thing.
Well be coming on them from the hallway.
When they exited the passageway,
Maria noticed that the exterior of the door was again camouflaged it match
the rest of the wall. She stood at a point about fifteen feet from the apartment
entrance, where the door was still open.
Lynn ran headlong down the hall,
reached for the doorknob and pulled the door violently shut. The slam!
shook the walls. As Lynn next twisted the doorknob backwards, Maria heard
the sharp click! of a locking mechanism. Then the smoothly functioning blonde
athlete smartly smashed her palm against what had appeared to be merely a
decoration above the doorbell. In a matter of seconds, one of the big men
inside the room smashed into the door in a desperate bid to
escape.
The gas will have them
out in a matter of seconds, Lynn said with a calmness that almost
frightened Maria.
No sooner had she made this
statement, a thud! echoed inside the apartment.
It helps to own the building.
There are no neighbours to annoy.
Maria couldnt help smile,
though she did so nervously. Maybe now we can get some
answers.
*****
The two men were tightly bound
when their consciousness returned. Each had been secured to a chair with
several layers of a thick rope. One of the ropes circled their bodies from
chest to waist, lashing the torso of each to the back of their respective
chairs. Their jackets, shirts, and ties had been removed; one still wore
his tee shirt, while the others extra large body was naked. Their legs
were tied at the calves to the front legs of the chair; their feetshoes
now removedwere elevated a couple of inches above the floor. Likewise,
their bare arms were also secured to the padded arms of their prison. Although
their first impulse was to try to overturn the piece of furniture that held
them in place, the weight of the object and their own lack of leverage prevented
it. The larger of the two prisoners desperately threw his body, within the
limits defined by the ropes, seeking to topple himself onto his back. Nothing
seemed to work.
Maria walked into the room and
faced the men. She was all business now.
Where is Crimson
Flare?
Fuck you! the larger
man replied almost before the question had been
completed.
Her expression showed her lack
of patience. She picked up a hammer from a nearby table. Im only
going to ask you once more. Wheres Crimson
Flare?
Fuck
y!
Maria smashed him on the side
of his head as hard as she could. The sickening sound of the hard steel head
of the implement against the skin and bone of his head was unmistakable in
terms of its effect. A spatter of blood washed over the smaller man sitting
next to him; a tooth hit his shoulder and fell to the floor. His cheekbone
had been broken.
She turned to the other man.
Wheres Crimson Flare? The way she held the hammer, she
seemed to be simply waiting for a defiant answer.
McLeod-Slaughter
Mansion!
Maria walked, smiling, from the
room.
*****
A few moments later, Lynn approached
the still-shaking thug. Whats going on there? Why does Gouyannou
want Crimson Flare?
She was responsible for
the loss of a major shipment of drugs. He wants her to replace the goods
and the money.
Go
on.
She used to be hooked on
drugs. He intends to hook her again, then use her to supply
him.
His partner weakly, dizzily,
turned toward the speaker. Blood soaked his face and when he opened his mouth
to speak, more blood poured over his jaw, dripping onto his chest and lap.
What he said was incomprehensible, the broken bones and smashed teeth preventing
any comprehension.
But the sound of his partners
voice seemed to stiffen the others resistance. With eyes widened, he
drew a loud intake of breath, set his jaw and sat
quietly.
What is he doing to her
there?
There was no
answer.
Maria!
The policewoman entered and the
trapped man twisted his body to see she was still carrying the
hammer.
Ive said all Im
going to say.
Oh, no, you
havent, Lynn replied.
She wrapped a rubber tube around
his bare upper arm and, despite his efforts to wriggle out her grasp, she
quickly injected a serum into the vein at the crook of his
elbow.
A few moments later, Lynn asked,
What is he doing to her there?
They two women got all the answers
they wanted.
*****
The storm was reaching its peak
dumping the heaviest rainfall on Mitropoulos that the city had seen in months.
The McLeod-Slaughter mansion was ablaze with light, though the pouring rain
obscured some of the details on the molded facing that was one of the reasons
for the architectural fame of the former residence of the citys premier
newspaper publisher. The bright lights that had been erected at the front
of the building revealed a line of parked cars filling the roadway leading
to the gate, even though the circular driveway inside the compound was empty
of vehicles. Armed men who stood near the entry as well as along the short
road leading to the mansions entrance were drenched in the
deluge.
Only a short distance from the
entrance, Lynn and Maria stared at the surprising scene before them. Protected
by the greenery on the opposite side of the road, they peered out into the
rainstorm, watching the nights activity at the estate. Frankly, it
was nearly impossible to see anything. The guards looked wet and miserable,
and the guests they could seeall of the female visitors seemed to be
leaving the party at oncewere apparently caught without umbrellas and
raingear. They either ran headlong toward their cars, hoping to minimise
the damage to their evening finery; or else they walked, it seemed, in a
daze, occupied by weightier considerations that may have been left over from
the evenings festivities. Neither of the women had any idea that the
crime boss had such a significant presence in Mitropoulos. He was known for
his parties and contacts upstate, in the capital. But in Mitropoulos he had
always been a minor player.
Not any more,
evidently.
We cant get in
there, Lynn said, her heart sinking.
Not dressed like this,
Maria replied, referring to the sweat suit Lynn wore and her own jeans and
tee shirt. Two finely dressed ladies of the night passed through the gate
and walked toward their car, parked somewhere along the lane. The nights
torrent seemed not to disturb them.
The two girls looked at one another.
They knew what they had to do.
*****
Lynns soaked blonde hair
hung over her bare shoulders. The tight blue minidress with orange highlights
clung to her athletes body, leaving little to the imagination. The
water running down the fabric reflected the light standards that had been
erected outside the mansion and caused the material to glimmer as she moved
toward the gate. The fact that she wore no makeup seemed to matter little
in the rain, but, in any case, it would likely not have mattered in the face
of the pronounced enticements that were otherwise so evident. Her long legs,
her peaches-and-cream complexion, the tantalising glimmer of her white go-go
boots clinging to her strong calves; she was a vision that would make any
man here forget that she hadnt been invited.
Marias black cat suit clung
to her and revealed every nook and cranny. The shimmery spandex reflected
the lights that illuminated the hillside retreat. Her dark hair had been
released from its tight bun and the soaking rain plastered it to the sides
of her beautiful face, accenting somewhat her Hispanic
heritage.
The women walked quickly toward
the gate, just as the storm somewhat abated. Slowing their pace as they
approached the lit area, they immediately fell into their act, Lynn laughing
uproariously at everything that Maria whispered in her ear, at the same time
leaning heavily, drunkenly, against the policewoman. Meanwhile, Maria did
her best to appear the soberer of the two, nevertheless appearing not completely
sober.
The guards at the gate watched
them approach, the longing on their faces evident once the women were close
enough to clearly ascertain their attributes. One glanced at the other and
smiled. His associate also smiled, and then nervously shook his head.
Gouyannou would have our heads on a stick, he
said.
Hiya, boys, Maria
cooed. Are we too late for the fun?
Lynn giggled uproariously at
that, then repeated the word fun.
You were supposed to be
here at midnight. Its almost dawn. What happened? The guards
seemed more pleasantly curious than suspicious.
Ooooohhhh, you know how
it is. You start out with one guy and he promises you a good time,
Maria began.
and then some other
guy wants to offer you an even better time, Lynn
sniggered.
And by the time you finally
make it to where youre supposed to be
Maria sounded a little
tipsy.
youve had a
whole lot of fun, Lynn snorted.
Then she repeated the word,
fun, and shook with apparent silent laughter.
The two girls leaned in toward
one another and turned away from the men at the gate, giving them a good
view of their posteriors, wiggling them conspicuously.
Go on in. Im sure
theres something to please you there. The taller guard opened
the gate for them.
By this time, except for the
occasional droplet, it had stopped raining as Maria and Lynn entered the
soaked grounds of the mansion. They continued their drunken bimbo act for
the benefit of the gate guards, but they were already considering their next
move. Marias high heels clicked on the concrete driveway and Lynns
go-go boots seemed to offer a clumping echo of her partners walk. They
felt eyes of the half-dozen guards who were placed at strategic positions
around the circle on their every movement. The swerved and swayed their way
toward the double-doored entrance, eventually arriving before yet another
armed man.
He looked them up and down, then
briefly nodded his head and reached back to the doorknob.
The door swung open and a brightly
lit interior greeted the girls. Go on in, he said
softly.
Stepping inside, both noticed
how warm it was. Perhaps it was nothing more than the coolness following
the downpour, but the interior of the mansion seemed to have its thermostats
set appreciably higher than traditional room temperature. Soaked as they
were, Lynn and Maria felt grateful for the warmth as their clothing began
to feel less uncomfortable. They even sensed a drying out of themselves and
of these costumes.
Alone in the foyer, they quickly
looked around.
What do we do now?
Lynn ventured almost afraid to make any sound.
Seeing the glowing lights from
the ballroom directly in front of them, Maria replied, There, I
think, indicating with her head the open doors.
Suddenly a roar of laughter erupted
from the room that they were approaching.
Yep, Maria said softly,
there.
*****
The room they entered seemed
to be another world. The ballroom was ablaze with light; candelabras on the
walls and a huge chandelier suspended from the ceiling reflected in mirrors
in the paneling, all multiplying to overwhelm the girls as they crossed the
threshold. The bare, polished wooden floors gleamed. Even the painted portions
of the walls, and the fine woodwork borders surrounding these multicoloured
surfaces, had been cleaned to a spotless brilliance in preparation for this
evening.
The two women, drier now, looked
across the wide expanse and saw a throng of men, probably more than two dozen
in number, encircling a small portion of the floor. Off to one side, stood
the unmistakable portly figure of Fareed Gouyannou, holding a microphone
and smiling widely.
Here we go, Maria
whispered to her newfound friend.
They had not taken two steps,
however, when the room was filled with an ear-shattering scream. The source
of the shriek was not visible, but the overwhelming sense of pain and desolation
that it conveyed was unambiguous. It was immediately followed by another
peal of laughter from the body of men.
Gouyannou now spoke up. There
you have her, gentlemen. The once-mighty Crimson Flare. Sprawled like a clumsy
rag doll! The Champion of Women. Flat as a pancake! And we did it! Tonight,
in a matter of hours, we turned this fearsome figure of law and order into
a quivering plaything, used for our amusement.
Lynn and Maria turned to face
one another and then walked slowly toward the mass of dark-suited figures.
Lynn felt the inside of her mouth go dry. Almost desperately she worked her
jaw to moisten her cheeks and tongue. Even as she did so, she felt sick and
her knees felt weak. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to run from
the room.
The men seemed to part as the
women reached to edge of the crowd. As they penetrated to the centre, they
came upon a sight they would never forget.
Curled up in a trembling fetal
ball, the naked form of Crimson Flare lay on the polished floor, whimpering,
wrapping her arms around her torso, seeking security. Her body was bruised,
small signs of discolouration along her back and legs. She still wore only
her cowl, mask, boots, and one of her satin gloves. The Champion of Women
lay on her right side. Crimson Flares black boots were scuffed badly,
but there was still much evidence of the highly polished sheen that was so
familiar about them. Her legs moved up and down, up and down, came together
and separated, came together and separated, the motion irregular. Sometimes
it was only her calves that moved, her left knee shifting on to and off of
her right. At other times, the entire left leg rolled off of the right, the
hard leather shusshhing across the floor. The motion was uneven and
both of the legs shivered uncontrollably. Just above the tops of the black
leather was now only barely visible the tatters of the heroines colourless
tights. The normally flawless thighs were covered in filth and debris, smeared
with the flaky remains of someones manhood or a still viscous more
recent deposit. Dirt and small flakes of paper clung to
her.
Her hips, too, moved, responding
to the spastic squeezing of her thighs, as well as their own rotation around
the focus of her right hand, which had found its way between those magnificent
appendages, and one finger of which had now secretlyor, perhaps, not
so secretlywedged itself inside her. Desperate for the stimulation
of her sex, unaware of the audience surrounding her, Americas Darling
pressed her body down onto her satin-covered middle finger, but without evident
result.
Her naked back was fully curved,
her bare shoulders rounded. The powerful muscles could be seen quivering
uselessly. Her small breasts could not be seen while she was in this position,
and because her left arm, shorn of its glove, wrapped itself across her chest.
The firmness of her breasts pressed hard against her forearm and the marble-like
nodes that crested each would have been impossible for any observer to fail
to note, were they visible. The arm itself, bruised like the other limbs,
was also covered with mens residues and encrustations of the filth
of the floors of this building.
Her masked face and cowled head
were the most familiar remainders of who she once was. The cowl had been
torn in places, Karens short, dark brown hair protruding in sweaty
tufts. The formerly shiny black mask was scratched and smudged, covered with
the scum of her indignities. Around her mouth and across her jaw, a mixture
of blood and cum had begun to form a disgusting crust.
She moaned. It was like the sound
of an animal in pain. Her mind, that fine-tuned, crime-fighting weapon, had
been devastated by pain and abuse. Now, all she could do was plead for remission
from her agony.
But no one offered help. As she
looked from one face to another, she saw only disdain and hatred. Why had
her gods turned on her?
Wait! There! Theres
someone wholl help. Someone who has never let her down. She opened
her mouth to speak, but was able to only croak out a mournful
syllable.
Lynn?
End of Chapter
Four
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome:
contact the author at
marat1793@comcast.net
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