by
marat
Chapter
Seven
Back at the McLeod-Slaughter
Mansion, Fareed Gouyannou peacocked around the ballroom, deigning, every
so often, to speak to subordinates or to single out one member of his entourage
for some small dignity. Officer Bruce Sealing had been so honoured, when
he was asked (or perhaps it was closer to ordered) to walk with him
briefly.
Your information was most
helpful, young man, Gouyannou said, an innocuous statement that was
spoken very softly, Gouyannous face close to Sealings ear. It
was clear that at this point he simply wanted to elevate his protégé
in the eyes of the assembled gang members. By seeming to confide in him,
the gangland chief was demonstrating the former policemans value to
and potential in the clan.
But Gouyannou had other reasons
for singling out Sealing. He well understood that this action would begin
a new round of infighting among his underlings, because, as he wished, those
in whom he had been confiding, and those who sought to become Gouyannous
confidantes, would see this interloper as a new threat, perhaps a rising
power in the gang.
Sealing would become a target.
And if Sealing was a target,
then Gouyannou himself assuredly was not.
In this way, Gouyannou protected
himself and Mitropoulos would see continuous gang
violence.
He put his arm around the young
mans shoulder, and the former policeman stood up fully erect and smiled.
He was very pleased about his new role.
Thank god for Louis XIV, Fareed
Gouyannou thought.
*****
Take your clothes off,
Lynn ordered.
What? the young criminal
certainly understood the order. Staring unabashedly at the glorious figure
lying before him on the bed, he already felt the stirrings that marked the
beginnings of an erection.
But Lynns order was so
curt, so threatening, that he felt himself cut off.
What? he said
again.
You heard me. Youre
going to fuck her.
Thats Crimson
Flare, he stammered, belabouring the obvious. Nobody fucks
her.
Lynn smiled a small half-smile.
Well, it looks like youre in for a unique experience. She
jabbed him gently with the baton.
A small jolt gripped the small
of his back. He immediately pulled off his jacket and started unbuttoning
his shirt.
Lynn admired his physique. As
soon as he took off his t-shirt, his time in the gym was evident. Well-rounded
pecs and six-pack abs showed that Fareed Gouyannou didnt give an IQ
test to his henchmen. He was a small man, barely as tall as Lynn herself,
probably reaching Karens 54 in height. He looked like an
archetypical USC tailback from the days of John McKay.
Shoes and socks followed, and
then his pants. Obviously his workouts were well-rounded, Lynn thought. He
doesnt have Ruskins saintly skinny legs. He wore
black briefs, which disguised his package until she pulled them
off.
Lynn was astounded when he revealed
himself. Oh, dear god, she reflected looking at the discarded underwear,
how did he ever hide that in those?
It was a good question. The young
man was remarkably endowed. Flaccid, his manhood must have shown six inches.
Engorged, Lynn speculated, he must be close to a foot. She smiled at the
pun.
All right, get yourself
up.
He looked at the slowly coiling,
contorting form of Crimson Flare. The young man, whose name, Lynn would learn,
was Ted, stared down at the sensually roiling figure. The perspiration that
glistened on her body made it all the more provocative. He gazed longingly
at her hips and legs, so perfect, so muscular, and at the taut orbs on her
chest. He wanted to grasp those small oh-so-perfectly formed hemispheres,
to plunge madly into her.
He looked into her contorted
face and
Her mask, he offered
tentatively. Could you put her mask back on?
At this moment, Karen gave out
with a soft moan of the deepest sensuality.
Teds member began to stiffen
and rise at the sound.
It seems you wont
need the mask, Lynn said.
He pursued, still tentative,
Would you? It would help keep me up.
Lynn obliged, pacing the shiny
black mask onto Karens distorted features. The effect of the disguise
was immediate, as a girl whose features were distorted in pain became
Mitropoulos famed Champion, and Teds member stiffened
immediately.
Lynn knew that Crimson Flares
mask was one of the most sexually enticing elements of her costume. Many
times she and Karen had discussed how Stacy had created the character for
maximum psycho-sexual impact, to disarm criminals, to make them see the petite
heroine as an easy mark, so that any thinking they did was largely confined
to between their legs. The mask was a large part of that, creating an air
of mystery, hiding her identity, and appealing to a criminals sense
of conquering an anonymous adversary, and thus, without
guilt.
Ted began to feel his erection
as well nigh painful. His massive prick was fully engorged as he crept onto
the bed, crawling between the spread legs of the supine, naked Crimson Flare.
Lynn saw that her estimate of his size was almost exact. In addition to the
conspicuous length, she saw that its circumference was also nothing short
of remarkable.
The hapless Maid of Mitropoulos
moaned again and her hand reached toward her sex, her gloved fingers entering
and circling. A frustrated, angry sigh followed.
Get yourself inside her,
Lynn ordered, and passed the baton before Teds eyes, which saw nothing
of the weapon. He gazed into the disguised face of the powerful girl who
lay on the bed. Sliding forward, the deep pink tip of his manhood already
tickled Crimson Flares slowly unveiling organ. Her surprised response
was to move herself toward the stimulus.
As he pushed himself into the
Champion of Women, the excitement that seized him would only be described
as sensational. It was like a thousand separate electrical currents were
racing through all parts of his body, up his spine, tingling nerve ends all
over.
Uhh,
aaAAHH-HHAAAGGGHHH! Ted shrieked. And he came almost
immediately.
But he remained hard, and Crimson
Flares body did not release him. He fell forward onto her waiting form,
and the heroine wrapped her powerful arms around his chest. Her masked face
rose up to meet his own descending countenance and her lips pressed hard
against his. Deep within his mouth, her tongue sought his and entwined,
wrestling, lapping against the cheeks and roof of his
mouth.
His arms enveloped her rock-hard
torso and the two figures pulled one toward the other. Her nipples pressed
against his powerful chest and she now began to move up and down on him,
regularly, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Each downward thrust
of her body pressed his manhood deeper into her, raising her ecstasy higher.
She grunted each time she settled down on him, the sensations pushing her
mouth ever more tightly against his. The gloved hand of Crimson Flare embraced
the back of his head, pushing his face tight against hers. Her powerful fingers
wrapped themselves in his long hair, as she seemed to take control of the
act.
This time she cried out. She
pulled her mouth from his and her head fell all the way back so that Lynn,
standing behind the bed, could see the whites of eyes that had rolled up
in her head. Through gritted teeth, Crimson Flares guttural sound was
almost a growl.
Teds vocalisation followed
soon after, but his animal grunt was only a preparation for a lunge toward
her neck and shoulder as he took that flawless skin into his mouth, sucking
at the sweet-tasting sweat that was pouring off the girl. His tongue followed
the whole line of her neck and shoulder, as he seemed to be trying to ingest
every part of the beautiful, idealised form that he now held. This woman
was the purest sexual, sensual being he had ever encountered, and she was
now driven by unknown forces to suck every drop of his bestial instinct from
him. He was determined to respond in kind and that she not be disappointed
in that quest.
This was Crimson Flare, he thought,
the fulfillment of the fantasy of every man in Mitropoulos. Teds mouth
crept down from her shoulder as he sought to take her breast in his mouth.
Leading with his tongue, he sought, and found, the object of his quest. It
circled the small pink aureole and then he seemed to try to envelop the organ
from beneath and pull it up toward his maw. As his teeth pinched the marble-hard
nipple, she sucked in a sudden harsh breath, and then seemed to giggle at
the sensation.
He felt the soft leather of her
boots wrap themselves around the backs of his thighs, pulling his hips toward
her, upward, and pressing him ever further into the Champion of Women. Now
deep inside her, a tide of sheer ecstasy first flowed and then roared through
him, beginning at the tip of his manhood and finally sweeping over every
part of his body. He cried out again, and the two entities which, coupled,
now locked in an embrace that created between them a single organism, rolled
onto their side. They moved as one, he pressing to enter her even further,
seeking to heighten the glorious electricity that he felt flowing out of
her; she seeking to press his hard rod up, up, into her most sensitive and
responsive regions, where no one had penetrated previously, regions that
would give rise to the highest ecstasy.
Her legs moved upward so that
the black leather sat underneath his cheeks, and as she pushed upward, driving
him ever further into her, the cheeks spread ever so slightly. Sweat poured
off of the two bodies, filling the room with aroma of copulation, a musky,
even fetid, smell.
Her face returned to his, as,
her eyes now closed, she used her mouth and lips to seek out all its
distinguishing features, kissing each with a violence that had until now
been restrained by her own strong will. That will collapsed in an onrushing
orgy of desire, a desire to experience all of this man, every feature, every
element of his physical self, with an immediacy previously
unknown.
Their two bodies continued to
rock in unison, and their vocalisations became joined in an antiphony reminiscent
of Gabriellis Canzonae. First her alto, each exertion rising in volume
and pitch; then, his strong baritone, the tones constant, like a drone. Together,
the two mating beasts experienced a single fulfillment of sexual desire such
as neither had ever achieved.
aaAAAAHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!
He
came again. The earlier orgasm had been a release, a relaxation of
his body allowing the pent-up desire to be thrust in great spasms into the
receptacle. This time the contractions of his muscular and well-formed physique
pushed the seed violently from him; each convulsion seemed to begin deep
within him and he pressed himself as far into this fantasy woman as he could.
The rock-hard prick ached even as it erupted in a fresh frenzy of sexual
bliss. He no longer was aware of where he was, as his head swirled in a paroxysm
of images and colour, now bright, now dark. He saw nothing but those flashes
of colour; he heard only the rushing of his blood in his ears. He felt the
satin-soft flesh of his partner, soaked, dripping, with sweat. He smelled
her sweet aroma. And almost before his second climax was completed, he, now
in genuine pain, gave voice to his anguish. For the third time in so few
moments, he came again. Exhaustion crept over him following this orgasm and
he knew it was the last time.
When she came, it gushed from
her. Crimson Flare barely heard the cry as it came from her partner, though
Lynn had been startled by its volume and ferocity. The masked woman only
knew that she was as close to being fulfilled as she had ever been. In all
of her sexual experience, her mind told her, never had such heights as she
now approached been scaled. This, she understood, was what ultimate
bliss for the human female was. She was aware of the satin gloves that enveloped
her hands and arms; the hard composite material of the mask that lay across
her face; even the soft leather of her boots that encompassed her calves
and ankles; she also felt the hard muscles of his chest; and always, always,
there was his engorged prick inside her, pressing upward, ever upward toward
the center if her sensuality.
Never had she felt like such
a fully sexual being. She pulled her legs further up her partner, drawing
him to her and into her. She felt him come the third time and his relaxation
told her that his part in the coupling was completed. But she wanted more.
She continued to kiss his face, his hair, his lips, and he reciprocated,
returning the signs of affection with an exultation that moved her. Her calves
now encompassed his hips and she locked her leather-covered ankles against
the small of his back. As she pulled him into her, she felt his hard prick
begin to collapse within her. No, her mind said, no, you must
continue!
Ted knew he was spent, that he
would shrivel and drop from her. He did not want that to happen any more
than she did, so he pulled himself tighter to her, pressing his diminishing
manhood as far into his lover as its reduced form could reach. He was aware
of everything now: the smell of their coupling, the softness of her soaked
flesh, the faint roar of the elevated train in the distance, even the soft
creaking of the bed. He felt the soft leather of her boots pressing against
the small of his back, as she did her best to keep him inside
her.
Her dry mouth continued to survey
his face, the soft lips kissing his cheeks, her tongue probing his ears,
first one, then the other. As her searching mouth moved from one portion
of his countenance to another, there was no rush, no frenzy; her movements
were deliberate, as if she were sampling first one delicacy and then, having
tasted, moved on. Not the smallest feature was spared her smothering pursuit
of sensation. It was like she was trying to sample every bit of him. As Crimson
Flare kissed and licked and nibbled her way across his face, she gave voice
to the gratification she felt.
MMMMmmmmmmmmnnnn!
she cooed. Then louder,
MMMMMMMMMNNNN!! as if she were trying to pull in
an experience or discover some piquancy of his essence that was being denied
her.
Ted replied in kind. In his mind,
he begged her to keep him inside her, to hold on to what seemed an almost
unreal throbbing that she conveyed to him and through him, in their conjoined
organs. Ted felt her tightness as she gripped his prick and seemed to hold
on for dear life. He even felt the heroines boots press still more
firmly against his back. The resilient softness of the leather raised high
his sensuality to the pressure and the moment. It flashed through his brain,
These are Crimson Flares boots! And suddenly the small of his back
became hypersensitive to every tactile aspect of the famed
footwear.
But the thought was only a transient
one. Next he felt her hard nipples against his smooth, powerful chest and
his mind thrashed about, searching for any stimulation that would awaken
his flaccid member. He sensed the pressure gripping and holding his member
within her; the soft satin gloves pressing consecutively and simultaneously
against his back, neck, shoulders, and head; the hard muscled thighs firmly
holding his hips in place against her; the sweet-smelling sweat running down
her face and neck; the salty taste of those globules as his
dry-but-oh-so-receptive tongue searched them out and took them in. All these
things he became aware of, and each of them frustrated his one desire: to
get just one more erection for one more orgasm.
Crimson Flare was cumming. Ted
could feel her honey rolling out of her, down his penis, onto his balls and,
from there, to the bed. It seemed to flow from her, each spasm sending more
and more of her essence along that rambling itinerary in an unending flood.
He felt the heroine buck in his arms, each throe accompanied by a gentle
sigh in his ear.
At that same time, the Maid of
Mitropoulos felt her body racing out of her control. And she didnt
want to control it. When she had previously been raped, or when Chan and
she had had sex during their few days before his death, each of these times
she had felt the impulse to maintain control, for fear of what might happen
if she surrendered to indiscipline, or gave herself over to the urges that
she felt burning, roiling within her.
Well, this time she would allow
her body to run amuck. And the wild animal inside her was doing just that.
Now grunting each time she pressed herself down on Teds now-shrunken
manhood, a whine of disappointment swiftly followed, until the two sounds
combined in a frustrated growl. Searching for fulfillment, she pulled him
in toward her, holding him tighter with her arms; at the same time, with
her powerful legs she pulled his hips taut against her
own.
For his part, her criminal lover
facilitated and reciprocated her efforts to become one with the masked girl.
With all his strength he embraced her naked torso. He inhaled the sweet globules
of sweat rolling down her neck, until he felt almost as if he were drowning.
But he pressed on, determined to one last time gain his erection, to come
inside the Champion of Women one more time, gripping her silken skin in his
fists, scratching her shoulders and back with his long
nails.
She never noticed the pain. All
she could feel was the rush of ecstasy as her juices flowed from her. She
could feel them on her thighs, before they passed on to form a large
discolouration on the bedspread. And she could still feel him inside her,
though now withdrawing from her innermost recesses, discouraging her. His
large prick, no longer engorged, still filled her antechamber and as she
moved, it stimulated the walls of that mysterious region. She moved up and
down, the friction sending chills up her spine, and she remembered how his
enlarged probe had previously filled her with dread and
sensuality.
She hugged him tighter, pulling
him to her with her arms and her legs.
He grunted
suddenly.
Pain was in the sound, but Crimson
Flare didnt notice it. All she noticed was that his erection was returning
inside her. His prick pushed suddenly into her, and she was on the verge
of cumming again. She knew she must do so.
*****
Oh, dear god, Lynn
shouted as she rushed to the bed. Karen, let him go! Youre killing
him!
Pressing her strong athletes
hands between the compressed forms of the lovers, Lynn knew that she would
never be able to overcome Crimson Flares great strength in separating
the entwined figures. At her first touch she felt the limp, unresisting body
of the male, and she knew that it was already too late.
Crimson Flare, filled one last
time with the rapture of fulfillment, cried out, and she suddenly released
him. She was cumming again. Satisfaction comforted her.
Ted, his back snapped like a
twig in two places by the strength of Crimson Flares arms and legs,
fell to the bedspread. His open eyes stared up at Lynn, questioningwhat?
the meaning of his death? the meaning of his life? His mouth was open and
his tongue, what seemed to be an unnatural purple colour, protruded slightly.
There was no movement in his body. His erect prick, the object of Crimson
Flares desperate desire, slowly slipped from inside his
partner.
God, Karen, Lynn
whispered. She turned to her friend, who was grunting, over and over again,
her body plunging as she expelled her nectar onto the bed. The Champion of
Women seemed utterly unable to staunch the flow, and the heroines great
strength allowed her to buck and seize time after time without respite or
fatigue.
She cried out again and again,
but, unlike other times, these were not cries of frustration. It seems that
she had, at long last, been fulfilled. Her gloved hands caressed the entrance
to her sex, her fingers expertly playing her organ. The crimson gloves turned
dark red as she came and came again. Her body shone with perspiration as
it rolled down her torso. Her perfectly hemispherical orbs glistened, rock-hard,
in the glare of the rooms electric bulbs. Her nipples stood out like
rock outcrops.
At last, she collapsed, face
down, onto the soft bed, her essence spent.
Lynn marveled at the
sight.
The naked form of the powerful
Crimson Flare lay on its side, curled, with her hands lying alongside her
soaking sex. Her entire body shone with perspiration, highlighting the powerful
muscles even more in evidence. Her face was peaceful behind her mask, and
her short, dark brown hair seemed styled in punk spikes. Her eyes were closed
behind the black of her mask, though it was clear that she was awake, though
perhaps not entirely conscious of her surroundings.
Lynn gently pulled her friend
onto her back, revealing her still-hard, perfectly formed breasts. Her stomach
moved gently, slowly, as she breathed, each exhalation exposing the lower
portion of her rib cage. She breathed in easily now, the sounds of the struggle
a thing of the past. Below the perfect isosceles of her pubic hair, the residue
of the honey that was expelled clung to her entrance and the insides of her
thighs.
Her legs were spread, exposing
her. The pink of her female organ was now only barely visible, as it seemed
to try to creep, unobserved, back into her recesses. Her body no longer demanded
satisfaction from the male who had been her partner. It had climbed to peaks
of ecstasy such as no woman had ever attained. For the strength and power
of Crimson Flare required that her powerful mate spend his all in her
satisfaction.
Ted had indeed done
so.
He had died satisfying Crimson
Flare.
And in doing so, as Lynn and
Karen would shortly discover, he had freed the Maiden of Mitropoulos from
her demons.
*****
Teds body would have to
be disposed of, Lynn knew. And something would have to be done about the
other man, injured, in the living room. But, right now, there was nothing
more important than the condition of her friend.
Her body had stopped convulsing;
the grunts and cries had been replaced by a soft moan; the sweaty sheen on
her smooth skin was dissipating; and the flood of her juices was abated.
Lynn sat on the bed, holding Karens head in her lap, gently brushing
her cheek and jaw with her fingers. The blonde girl whispered soft cooings,
trying to calm her friend. Finally, after a few moments, she reached down
and plucked the mask from Crimson Flares face, revealing the familiar,
now-sedate face of her friend. Lynn leaned toward her friend and softly kissed
Karens forehead.
She sat and rocked until all
was silent in the bedroom.
Finally, Karens green eyes
fluttered open. Her throat was dry, her voice raspy as she tried to speak.
Lynn tipped the clear plastic bottle to her lips and the brunette drank
greedily.
What
happened?
You went through
hell.
She took another swallow from
the plastic bottle. Did I survive?
Evidently. Lynn smiled
a sad smile.
Karen looked around the room,
taking some comfort from its familiarity. Her eyes eventually found Teds
contorted body, which Lynn had slid from the bed and placed next to the
overstuffed chair across the room. Did I do
that?
Dont be sorry. He
worked for Gouyannou. He came here to kill Maria and
me.
Where is
Maria?
Gouyannous got
her. Lynn knew what Karens response to this information was going
to be, so she anticipated her friends next comment. Youve
got to stay here for a while. Youll have to get your strength
back.
From the looks of him,
Id say I already reached that point.
How do you
feel?
Karen paused a long moment, as
if trying to get a sense of herself. Her eyes stared out, as if seeking a
great inner truth, and after almost a full minute of silence, she replied,
Cleansed
I think. She took another swallow from the water
bottle.
Karen pulled herself from
Lynns lap and sat up. She looked from Teds mangled corpse to
the huge stain covering the bedspread. She glanced at her friend, and an
unasked question passed between them.
Yes, said Lynn.
All of that.
Her nursing training came through
at this point, as Karen commented softly, I dont think thats
possible.
I saw
you.
You were watching?
Her eyes wide, Karens shocked face began to edge toward anger at her
friend.
If I hadnt been here,
who knows whether that
here she nodded toward Ted,
would have been all you would have done.
You said you felt cleansed.
What do you mean exactly?
Again, Karen took a long pause.
For months, Ive felt as though there was something inside me,
something that needed to be filled
or maybe released. It ached; it
burned. For months, I couldnt quench this demand. Now, its
its just gone. Whatever it was that I felt, its
gone.
Well talk more in
a bit, the athletic blonde said softly, worried about her friend.
Why dont you get in the tub? Sweat was pouring off of you during
your ordeal, and, for a while, you and I were sharing the something
less-than-sterling accommodations of Gouyannous
basement.
Is that where Maria
is?
Yes.
I have to go get
her.
Wait, Karen. Just wait
a minute. You and I have talked a lot about how Stacy made you the smartest
heroine around, about how important it was to have all the information necessary,
before you went riding off in all directions at once. We need to know
whats happened to you. And you need to know about whats
waiting for you at the McLeod-Slaughter mansion. So, shut up and go take
a soaking in the tub. When she was finished, Lynn smiled to herself.
Ive never said anything like that to anyone before, she thought. And
now Im saying it to someone who could take my head off, literally,
if she didnt like my tone.
There was another very long pause.
Karen slid off the bed. All right, she said.
End of Chapter
Seven
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome:
contact the author at
marat1793@comcast.net
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