by
marat
Chapter
Five
If only the pain would
stop.
It seemed centered down deep,
near her groin, but there was not a square centimeter of the heroines
body that wasnt wracked with pain.
Crimson Flare? she
heard the familiar voice ask.
Yes,
master?
Do you know this woman?
There was a tumult crashing thunderously around the god, as if all of his
minions had decided to shout and argue simultaneously. Before the battered
Maidens eyes ghostly figures raced to and fro bathed as if in gossamer
drapes.
Oh, yes, my
lord.
Who is she? The raucous
shouts seemed to increase even more. But she was unable to comprehend what
was being said.
She is my friend, my lord.
She can help
me.
As soon as she had said this,
Crimson Flare felt the familiar comfort of Lynns slim but strong arms
embracing and caressing her body. The intimacy that they carried with them
seemed to at last ease the pain of the broken Champion. The sudden relaxation
allowed her to finally slip into unconsciousness, finally finding a respite
from the agony that had been her constant companion for many
hours.
*****
Lynn stared at Gouyannou, hatred
and anger evident in her gaze.
What have you done to
her? the blonde demanded.
Nothing, nothing,
replied the drug lord. Nothing she didnt allow me to
do.
Easing her friend to the floor,
Lynn rested Crimson Flares head on her thighs as she knelt on the hard
wood. The sweat-soaked body of the avenger of Mitropoulos finally seemed
at rest.
Im taking her out
of here, Lynn stated flatly.
Im afraid I cant
let you do that, came the reply. You see, there are some things
I need her to do for me.
Crimson Flare is not going
to help you commit crimes, Lynn shot back. Shed rather
be dead.
Her desire for a fix will
change that attitude. And, well, if she doesnt help me, then Ill
gladly grant the alternative you offer.
Gouyannous statement struck
Lynn like a hard blow to the chest. She knew that the crime kingpin didnt
bluff, and he didnt make rash statements. She was certain that he would
kill Crimson Flare without a second thought. Words stuck in her throat as
she considered hurling a simple invective at the heroines
tormentor.
But she thought better of
it.
Dont hurt her any
more. Ill do whatever you want.
Take them downstairs,
he ordered. Leave them together
for the time
being.
Two well-dressed criminals moved
quickly and flanked Lynn. One of them placed his hand gently on her shoulder.
She slowly rose to her feet, after soothingly brushing her friends
face and placing the head of the unconscious Champion of Women delicately
on the floor. A third, larger, figure easily scooped up the nude, insensate
heroine and followed the trio to the door at the far end of the
ballroom.
When the procession disappeared,
attention turned to the last female in the room. Maria Blakeman felt all
the eyes on her and she knew that the next thing she said would determine
whether she lived or died.
All right, missy, who are
you? one of the dark-suited figures near her asked
roughly.
Speaking with the thick Hispanic
accent that she had grown up with and which she had worked assiduously to
rid herself of, she replied, I met her on the way here. She said she
was coming for a good time. She turned and seemed to flirt with the
nearest thug. I, too was looking for a good time. She pressed
herself against him.
Shes a cop!
A voice from the rear of the room spoke with certainly and
clarity.
Bruce Sealing strode through
the crowd and into the light. Shes a cop! he repeated.
Her names Maria Blakeman. She was partnered with Tim
Westbrook.
Westbrook? The guy whos
got the tape? Gouyannou asked.
Yeah, that Westbrook. And
it looks like she may be joining him.
*****
Lynn was led to a starkly lit
cell in the basement of the great house. It looked like a wine cellar, though
larger than the ones Lynn had seen previously.
A moment later, the door opened
again and a large thug carried the unconscious Crimson Flare into the room.
He took only a step or two into the cool chamber and then he unceremoniously
tossed Americas Darling toward the bare centre of the room. She struck
the stone floor hard and did not move.
Quickly, Lynn rushed to her side
and lifted her head into her arms. Tears formed and rolled down her cheeks.
Oh, god, Karen, whats happened to you?
*****
Maria Blakeman was led at gunpoint
down a different flight of stairs. Bruce Sealing led the way and two very
professional-looking toughs followed the policewoman, each with his gun leveled
at her back.
At the bottom of the stairs,
Sealing walked quickly along a well-lit corridor. They passed by several
heavy wooden doors, but finally he stopped in front of a door that was bolted
securely. Noisily he released the locks. The door squealed open. One of the
men behind Maria grabbed her ass, took a moment to enjoy the sensation, then
placed his other hand between her shoulders and roughly pushed her into the
dimly lighted room.
Whos there?
she heard a muffled voice say as she fell to the floor.
Tim?
Maria? What the
hell?
*****
Fareed Gouyannou walked among
the crowd assembled in the ballroom. His status had never been so high in
Mitropoulos as it was now. True, he had long been a major player in the capital,
both as a drug lord and as a benefactor of the arts; but here, in the great
city of the state, he had always been regarded as something of a pretender.
Crimson Flares destruction
of the Savoyards and the Normans, along with the deaths of Cos and Chan,
had left a large power vacuum in Mitropoulos. When Ape, a none-too-bright
triggerman with more ambition than talent, arose to try to take power, it
had convinced the immigrant that the city was ripe for the
plucking. He had contacted the
former enforcer with a drug deal proposal, convinced that it would fail,
and that that failure would open the door to his own rise. He had not, however,
expected Ape to fail so spectacularly. His feigned outrage at the theft and
destruction of his drugs (what would Ape have given to know that it was actually
a mixture of flour, sugar, and crushed aspirin?) had put Mitropoulos into
his hands. The demonstration that Nancy, a mere woman, was, in fact, the
real power in that relationship told him that there would be no one to compete
with him. Gouyannou was taken aback when Nancy had emerged as a surprising
rival, but he had not risen to his formidable position without being able
to adjust to the unexpected. However, once again Americas Darling had
ended the redheads grab for power as well.
The stage was set for someone
with connexions outside the city; for someone who could draw on wealthy and
influential friends, and whose operations extended beyond the reach of
Mitropoulos masked avenger. Crimson Flare seemed to be the only impediment
to securing his hold on Mitropoulos and all the wealth that that promised.
This woman would have to be removed.
Gouyannou had seen his opportunity
and grabbed it. The day after he had arrived in Mitropoulos to set up his
operation, his underground network already reported the ongoing blackmail
of Crimson Flare. Within hours, he not only knew that there were three tapes
involved in the enterprise, but he even knew the names of those involved.
These policemen were rank amateurs! By midnight, he had two of the tapes
in his possession.
Gouyannou knew the name Bruce
Sealing when the cop had sought him out. At first, he had seemed a typical
corrupt cop, but the drug kingpin quickly discovered that it wasnt
the usual kind of corruption he had dealt with back in the capital city.
It ran much deeper. Sealing was after more than money, and he was willing
to parlay any information, any skill, or anyone he knew to his own gain.
He wanted power, luxury, influence, and revenge in equal measure. This made
him useful to Gouyannou, at least temporarily so.
The revenge was the key to his
character. Gouyannou understood, after fifteen minutes of conversation, that
Sealing was always perceived as less than others: Not as smart, not as strong,
not as determined, not as able. The resentment of always being less festered
at him. Then, when his partnersTim Westbrook and Gary Paladinehad
made their decision about blackmailing Crimson Flare while seeming to disdain
his ideas about defeating and discrediting the heroine, the fury inside had
rushed to the surface. Sealings hatred of Mitropoulos Champion
of Women was also something Gouyannou notedand yet another thing he
felt he would be able to use.
Sealing had turned over his tape
and helped Gouyannou seize his erstwhile partners. Paladines tape was
quickly grabbed up. It was sitting on the shelf of his video
collectionhiding in plain sight never really works. There was no longer
any reason to keep him around, so he was last seen being hustled off in the
trunk of a Cadillac. That Cadillac was now a block of metal about one cubic
meter in size sitting in a junkyard owned by a Gouyannou
subsidiary.
But Westbrook was tougher. His
tape was not in his home, nor in his locker at the police station, nor at
his gym. Efforts to convince him to reveal its location had failed, despite
the conscientious exertions of a few of Gouyannous men. Westbrooks
closed-mouth resistance actually convinced Gouyannou that he might not have
known where the tape was. Was it possible he had given the tape to someone
else to store?
In any case, it was a moot point
now. The capture of Crimson Flare, coupled with his control of two of the
tapes would allow him to first discredit and then destroy the avenger of
Mitropoulos. Westbrook and Sealing were no longer
necessary.
*****
Tim, what are you doing
here? Maria Blakeman asked, her voice hushed, as if fearful that she
might be overheard.
Westbrooks response was
in a normal tone, though swollen cheeks and jaw muffled his words. You
know, he said simply, painfully.
The
tape.
Yes. Each time he
tried to speak Maria felt a shaft of pain pierce her heart. Tears welled
up in her eyes. The spandex-clad policewoman moved to embrace her partner.
As she did so, he broke down and sobbed.
We should never have got
involved in this, he struggled to say.
I warned
you.
Yeah, I know. Do you still
have the tape?
Yes.
That tape is the only reason
Im still alive.
Gouyannou has Crimson
Flare.
Then were both
dead.
*****
Pain continued to wrack Crimson
Flares body. The only moments of respite she had experienced in the
last few hours had been those moments she had given herself over to her gods
and their minions, and when unconsciousness had come at last, with the arrival
of Lynn.
Lynn.
Why was she
here?
Through the haze of pain, she
felt Lynns hands stroking her face and shoulders. Cutting at last through
the white noise, she heard Lynns soothing voice, comforting,
reassuring.
please, Karen, please.
What can I do to help?
Drawing her knees up to her chest,
the masked heroine tried to get the words out. But her dry throat and the
ever-present pain allowed her to emit only a hoarse gasp. She felt Lynns
tears drop onto her and roll across her cheek and neck.
*****
Looking around the room, Lynn
saw a bare mattress sitting in the corner. The athletic blonde lifted her
friend and carried her to what was nothing more than a battered sack. Laying
Crimson Flares tortured body down, Lynn looked for something to cover
her naked form. There was nothing.
Oh, god, Karen. I have
to help you, but I dont know how, she whispered. What do
you want me to do?
Behind her, the door screeched
noisily as it was pushed open. A tall, thin figure stood there a moment,
as his eyes got used to the gloomy interior. Here, he said, as
he tossed the familiar crimson-and-gold sequined costume toward the figures
in the far corner. As it hit the floor, there was a soft thunk! barely
noticeable even at the distance of a few feet.
Rushing to pick up the
Champions garb even before the door had closed, Lynn saw that Crimson
Flares belt had been wrapped in the uniform.
The athletic blonde quickly picked
up the gift and unfolded the dimly glittering prize. Yes! The baton was still
attached to the belt!
*****
Bring Crimson Slut up
here! Gouyannou ordered.
There was laughter around the
room as the men gathered for the humiliation of Mitropoulos Champion
anticipated a further degradation of the beautiful girl. Two hours had passed
since she had been carried from the room. The worst of the storm had passed,
but driving rain could still be heard spattering the
windows.
Two men walked quickly to the
exit. As they approached the door, they turned toward one another and smiled,
then skipped forward and began to jog. The sound of male conversation was
ratcheted up a notch. Word had been passed from the earlier rapists about
Crimson Flares attributes. Everyone in the room hoped, prayed, that
Gouyannou would select him for the next round.
But Gouyannou had different plans.
Crimson Flare must prove her value and fidelity to him. She would demonstrate
her fidelity when she arrived here in the ballroomyes, he thought,
laughing, the ballroomonly a matter of moments from now. Then
she would prove her value, by using her powers to secure a supply of drugs
from a few specified locations around Mitropoulos. Her doing so would establish
his position as premier drug lord in the city.
*****
Lynn fingered the baton that
she held in her hand. For a long timeshe had no idea how longshe
had desperately been trying to determine what she had to do. She had been
taught the rudiments of the weapon, but her control of its power had never
been very good. She had a tendency to use too much force for the job at hand.
Karen had told her that that was the same problem she had had to overcome,
but with a little practice it would come. Lynn had always suspected that
Karen said that just to reassure her, to encourage her.
She looked at the locked door,
wondering whether she would be able to make a getaway, leading the powerless
Crimson Flare to safety. How many obstacles and enemies would she have to
defeat to do so? Were there simply the large number of criminals here, or
were there other devices she would have to overcome? Would the batons
charge last that long? What would happen to them if she
failed?
She turned and looked at the
masked Champion.
The heroines gold-and-crimson
sequined uniform had been restored to her, tightly clinging to her petite
but muscular figure. Covering her nakedness was the one thing that Lynn most
wanted to do to spare her friend any further humiliation. But Crimson Flare
was confronted by a much greater danger.
The pain that still wracked her
body was evident. If anything, the agony that wracked her had increased.
Crimson Flares form curled and stretched on the mattress, rolled and
drew in upon itself, as she sought respite from an anguish that Lynn could
only begin to guess at. Her small hand covered by a crimson satin glove pressed
against her crotch, seeking entry to her sex and rubbing against her
clitsearching for any kind of stimulation to drive away the pain. Her
moans and grunts told of her frustration. Her legs, now bare, with only the
ragged edges of her tights visible above her still-glistening black leather
boots, coiled and uncoiled slowly.
What to do? Lynn had no idea
of how much time she might have, or of how much time she had lost in these
futile imaginings.
Suddenly, the sound of the outside
locks being loudly opened cut through the cold silence of the wine cellar.
She was out of time. She quickly backed up against the nearest wall, pulling
the baton behind her as she pressed against the cold stone, and wrapping
her hand around the object.
Two men opened the door very
forcefully, practically rushing into the large room. Without a word, they
fairly raced to the helpless heroine. One of the men, the taller one, with
long blonde hair, roughly grabbed the masked girl by the back of the famed
costume and yanked Crimson Flare to her feet. Her face hung low toward her
chest as his partner, laughing, placed his hands on her hips and pulled them
toward him. Then he mock-raped the insensate girl, bumping his own hips against
her ass, moving rapidly in and out at the same time he alternately pulled
her towards him and pushed her away. The rapid movement made Crimson
Flares head shudder and dance like a bobble-head
doll.
Stop it! Lynn
yelled.
Both men stopped and stared at
her. The blonde man took a step toward her, but his accomplice grunted. He
shook his head vigourously, and mouthed the name Gouyannou. The
furious stare that was directed at the petrified girl told her that he would
no doubt be back.
The two men dragged Americas
Darling quickly into the hall. The slam of the heavy door shook the room,
and the heavy metal locking mechanism sounded sharply in the cold air. Crimson
Flares boots dragging across the stairs leading to the ballroom echoed
faintly in the stairwell and into the wine cellar. The sound quickly faded
and a cold silence surrounded Lynn.
*****
The pudgy drug lord walked around
the centre of the ballroom, sweeping it in his gaze. He sensed that all eyes
were on him, and he knew that what he did in the next few moments would establish
or undo his reputation in Mitropoulos.
George, he said in
a low tone.
A tall, thin man with a grey
crewcut stepped forward. Yes, sir?
You will keep a record
of this.
Yes, sir. George
Joachim had worked for a series of gangland princes both in the capital and
here in Mitropoulos. He was a good soldier, reliable, capable, and loyal,
until he sensed that his boss was about to fall. He had an innate sense about
that. He seemed to know intuitively when each of his employers was about
to tumble in the never-ending power struggle of gang warfare. When this warning
system fired off its message, he would first distance himself from his chief,
and then move to the likely successor, taking both talent and information
that his new patron would find useful. It was a talent that had served him
well.
George drew out a camera and
began photographing the ballroom, taking group shots of the guests, but ensuring
that the only individual portraits were of Fareed Gouyannou. Many of those
shots were taken at a low angle. Many showed the crowd surrounding him, gazing
at him admiringly.
After a moment or two, the door
leading to the basement slammed open and the two thugs returned, dragging
the barely conscious avenger of Mitropoulos. Before they had taken three
steps into the room, Gouyannou loudly barked his next order. Thank
you, gentlemen. Leave her there and you go join your
friends!
The two stopped in their tracks,
looked at one another and released their charge from their
grip.
Crimson Flare crumpled to the
floor.
George continued to alternately
photograph and create digital movies of the scene.
Americas Darling sat on
the hardwood floor. She leaned heavily on her arms and rested on her hip,
the sweat on her bare legs gleaming in the bright lights. The gold and crimson
sequins of her costume glittered, identifying the heroine unmistakably. Her
cowl was torn, allowing a few tufts of her short chestnut hair to be visible;
the leather cowl, her shiny black mask, and her black boots still glinted
in the light, so that the most serious casualty of the evenings events
was the mystique of Crimson Flare. Her masked face hung low, the high polish
of the black vinyl now visibly marred by her earlier experiences. She seemed
to be gasping for air, the pain inside her manifesting itself.
Gouyannou seemed to be smiling
as he approached her. The crowd fell silent, waiting to see what the new
lord of Mitropoulos would do with his captive.
Crimson Flare, he
said quietly.
*****
Yes, my
lord?
Are you in
pain?
Yes, my
lord.
Do you want me to take
the pain away?
Yes, my lord.
Please.
Very well, I
will.
Oh, thank you, my
lord.
But
first
Yes, my
lord?
But first, I want you to
serve me.
What is it you wish, my
lord?
I want you to get to you
knees and crawl to me. Will you do that?
Instead of responding, Crimson
Flare clumsily rolled onto her knees. Then, to the delight and amusement
of the men gathered in the room, she awkwardly pushed her body toward the
sound of Gouyannous voice. Even though the distance was barely four
meters, she still stumbled and pitched forward onto her face twice in that
short distance. Each collapse brought a roar of laughter and approval from
Gouyannous watching minions.
As she rose for the second time,
Crimson Flare fairly pleaded, Please, my lord, wait. I am coming. I wish
to serve you. What she said was barely intelligible. But the sight of
the heroine who had struck such fear in the hearts of Mitropoulos
underworld stumbling and crawling toward their boss was the most memorable
moment of this night.
George captured it all in his
movie mode. Ten megapixels! Complete with sound!
*****
Fareed Gouyannou enjoyed the
sight of the last obstacle to his power in Mitropoulos on her knees crawling
toward him. As she finally reached him, first placing her hand alongside
his leg and then sidling up to him to sit at his feet, Crimson Flare turned
her masked face upward toward him.
He saw vacant eyes there behind
her mask. The dark green colour had no life; the sparkle that was so common
to young women was gone. Below the rim of the marred but still shiny disguise,
her flesh was filthy. A hard crust of a mixture of saliva, semen, and muck
from the ballroom floor coated her face below the mask. Only small patches
of the smooth, flawless skin showed through the dirt. The flesh on her arms
had been equally fouled by her earlier ordeal. But the worst was on her thighs.
Streaks of cum, now turned almost grey, stretched from both of the entrances
into the Champion, front and rear. The tatters of her colourless tights only
seemed to make the image more reprehensible. As she sat, her chest expanded
and contracted as she struggled to breathe, to find some respite from the
pain that she felt as a result of the good doctors cocktails and the
physical beating her body had undergone.
Crimson Flare, said
Fareed Gouyannou, please take me in your
hand.
Without a word, the Maiden of
Mitropoulos turned, then stopped as if stricken by a shaft of pain through
her spine. Finally, putting herself fully on her knees before him, she reached
out and pulled down the zipper of his trousers. Her crimson glove disappeared
into the opening, and then reappeared, gently fondling his
prick.
As she held it, it became visibly
larger and harder. Soon it hardened to its full eight
inches.
Take me into your mouth,
Crimson Flare.
She did so, her eyes staring
upward at his face as if seeking approval.
Make me cum, he ordered,
but not too fast.
For the next fifteen minutes,
Americas Darling sucked and savoured, bringing Gouyannou to the brink
of orgasm only to back off and allow him to enjoy the experience. She sucked
noisily as all the men in the ballroom seemed to relish the experience
vicariously.
Gouyannou felt her tongue cross
the sensitive tip and then traverse back again. He felt the satin glove,
covering her small hand, press and release, press and release, traveling
up and down his erection. But his countenance revealed a man in total control.
To all the underlings who watched the scene unveil itself, it was Crimson
Flare who had to struggle to bring the master to climax, an event that occurred
only when he permitted it.
And when he came, it was with
full force inside her mouth. The masked Maiden choked on the semen as it
exploded into her. Much of it rolled slowly out of her mouth and down her
jaw, hanging obscenely in a lengthening stream downward from her
chin.
Swallow it, Crimson
Flare, he said.
And she did. The audience roared
its approval.
*****
Lynn pointed the baton at the
locking mechanism on the heavy wooden door. She hoped that she would not
make her usual mistake of using too much force. The very first time she had
done this, when Karen was teaching her to use the weapon, she had not only
blown a door off its hinges, but she had shattered it into a dozen pieces.
In the closed space of this basement, the sound would reverberate loudly
and bring dozens of murderous thugs down on her.
She only wanted to open the
door.
She thrust the baton at the lock
and hoped.
There was a faint explosion and
the lock popped open. Then, almost as a comic aftermath, the heavy door slid
open, squeaking painfully, a few inches.
Lynn was through the door and
on the stairs in seconds. She paused, looking back, wondering where Maria
had been taken. But there were no other rooms in this section of the
cellars.
She had to see if she could save
Crimson Flare.
Running up the stairs in the
tight spandex minidress was not easy. The heels didnt help things,
either. By the time she reached the top of the staircase, she had slowed
to a walk. In front of her, another door, this one with a barred window,
separated her from the next room. She recognised it as the door that opened
out to the rear of the ballroom.
She stepped toward the window,
hoping that she would be able to make a determination of what her next step
should be. What she saw made her blood run cold.
Crimson Flare was on her knees
before a shortish, rotund man, who was dressed in an expensive suit. Could
that be Fareed Gouyannou? She could tell, even at this distance, what the
heroine was doing.
Karen, no! she said
softly. Then, catching herself, she looked about to see if anyone had heard
her.
It was only then that the lithe
blonde saw the large number of observers in the ballroom. If she intended
to rescue Crimson Flare, she would have to deal with a couple dozen
toughs.
Im sorry, Karen.
I cant
not
now. At that instant, a savage roar coursed
through the ballroom as the men watching the scene gave full throat to their
approval of Gouyannous actions.
She quickly opened the door and
slid into the ballroom. The athletic blonde pressed her body against the
wall and into the shadows. Lynn made her way toward the exit, holding the
baton at the ready.
The chatter in the room quickly
subsided as Gouyannou spoke. Crimson Flare. His voice, she thought,
was surprisingly soft.
Yes, master. Lynn
could barely understand the words.
In order to relieve your
pain, you must undertake a task for me. Will you do
that?
Lynn stood stock still, right
next to the exit. All eyes in the room were on the hapless
heroine.
Yes. The heroines
speech was even slower and more pained.
I want you to go to Mitropoulos
Police Headquarters and take certain evidence hags from the Evidence Locker.
That is room 442 on the top floor of City Hall. Youll find it filed
in section 05, shelf 11-25, file number 0112-03. It will be two large plastic
bags wrapped in white paper. If anyone tries to stop you, you should not
be too particular about how you deal with that problem. Do you
understand?
Yes.
When you return here, I
will give you relief from all of the pain you are
feeling.
Crimson Flare seemed to shrink
to an even smaller figure as she knelt before Gouyannou. Americas Darling
did not recognise what such an act would mean to her crimefighter reputation,
only that the promise of relief was genuine.
Lynn slipped out the entrance
and made her way across the foyer. She whipped out the baton to its full
length in order to deal with the guard she remembered at the
entrance.
Pulling the door open, she was
surprised that no one stood outside. Taking advantage of the security lapse,
she made her way across the driveway, walking quickly toward the closed gates
opposite.
Hello, Missy, the
dark-garbed guard said, smiling. There was no one else anywhere
around.
Hello yourself, Lynn
smiled as she raised the baton.
The force of the blast was increased
by her anxiety. The smell of ozone filled the air and the body of the guard
was thrown violently backward against the stone pillar. Smoke rose from his
chest, but Lynn did not bother to examine her handiwork. She had to get to
City Hall.
End of Chapter
Five
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome:
contact the author at
marat1793@comcast.net
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