Crimson Flare: Apes Grab for Power
by marat
Chapter Seven
Crimson Flare writhed in exquisite anguish, her body alternately twisting,
squirming, gyrating, and bouncing to the accompaniment of the most sensual
moans she could have produced. Officers Westbrook and Blakeman stood in shocked
silence upon entering the vault, staring down at the figure as she coiled
and uncoiled before their eyes. The heroines finely honed muscles stretched
and contracted under a smooth, dry skin as she debased her own honour in
a decadent search for sybaritic pleasure.
The heroine was totally unaware of their presence, as she focused all her
attention inwardly, reveling in the ecstasy that thrilled her, beginning
in a deep pit in her groin and extending outward in all directions. She was
only concerned with the sensations that poured from that dissolute well;
that those sensations should thrill her sexual areas, thrill her entire nervous
system; and carry her into a higher and higher ecstasy. It thrilled across
the muscles and nerves of her thighs, taking the strength from her powerful
body. Those round, smooth, well-developed extremities were frequently commented
upon by her admirers as the most enticing and engaging feature of the avenger.
But now they rubbed and pressed together and the feelings that enveloped
them only had as a goal the sustenance of the delight that raced through
every sinew and nerve in her body.
A flash bulb exploded the fixation on the twisting Champion of Women as a
photographer from the Daily Plaudit snapped a shot of the bared, helpless
heroine on the floor. Officer Blakeman turned on the small photographer in
a fury, grabbing the camera from his hands and smashing it against the metal
wall. The policewoman was another of those who, like Lynn Simms, had undertaken
a new role in the community because of the crimson-clad heroine. She grabbed
the back of his shirt and, faster than he could say First
Amendment!, pitched him back through the doorway through which they
had just passed. Blakeman positioned herself squarely in the doorframe, blocking
the view of the reporters who had accompanied the officers.
This is a crime scene! she announced. You gentlemen will
have to leave and wait for a briefing that will follow! Her partner,
Officer Westbrook, looked at her in momentary shock, then, understanding,
began to herd the grumbling reporters from the doorway and down the hall.
Left alone in the vault, Maria Blakeman stooped beside the quivering heroine
and began to remove the ropes that bound her. As the policewomans hand
gripped the masked heroines bare upper arm near her shoulder, Crimson
Flare gasped, her breath catching noisily, and then she moaned loudly. Maria
recognised the exhausted sounds of an orgasm tearing away at the poor woman
in front of her. The heroine twisted pathetically on the floor, desperately
trying to bury her face in the body of the officer trying to help her, and,
at the same time, she used the twisting of her hips to drive the probe inside
her against the walls of her vagina. Maria heard the sobs and felt the powerful
muscles convulse and spasm. Crimson Flare was cumming again. Involuntarily,
Maria glanced down at the violently twisting hips, where the juices had stained
the previously colourless tights; but for the sequins that covered her costume,
she had no doubt that the dark tide would include the familiar uniform.
Maria Blakeman pulled the sexually devastated heroines head into her,
holding her in her arms. Gently, with her free hand, she slowly undid the
knots, one by one, never releasing the hapless heroine from the security
of her embrace.
*****
Crimson Flare held the dildo between her fingers, watching her honey roll
down the object toward her satin-gloved fingertips. Although she now had
recovered her strength, she was still shaken as a result of the effects of
her recent bout with this probe. The Champion sighed heavily, dropping her
hand to her side; her head slumped to her chest. The strong arms of the
policewoman steadied her swaying body. Despite the cold of the refrigerated
vault, Maria noticed how Crimson Flares arms were now clammy with sweat.
The Maid of Mitropoulos had said not a word once the last of the ropes has
been taken from her. Immediately after that had been accomplished, the crimson
uniform had quickly been pushed down off her hips; the stained tights had
followed and Officer Blakeman was shocked when the six-inch-long dildo was
pulled from inside her.
Still on her knees, Crimson Flare dropped the object in disgust and modestly
dressed herself. Crimson tried very hard to avoid showing any sign of the
aftereffects of her trial. She moved deliberately, planting her boot firmly
before pushing herself to her feet. As she stood, she brought all of her
muscles into play to avoid staggering or swaying.
Are you all right? the policewoman asked. She hadnt been
completely convinced by the performance.
Honesty won out over image. I think so, Crimson Flare said softly.
At least, Ive got full control over my
faculties.
Honesty only went so far. She couldnt bring herself to say
body, which is what she meant.
You shouldnt have to face the media, Maria said. But
I need your statement for my report. You can go out the back door, but I
want to know where I can get in touch with you.
I can come to the precinct station when youll be there.
After a pause, Maria said, No. There are some cops there who dont
appreciate everything you do. When word of how we found you gets around,
and it will get around, Im sure theyll be waiting to slap your
face with it. They think a woman
.
Crimson Flares glance stopped the policewoman. She had had to deal
with this consistently. The Savoyards, the Normans, JoJo, Apealmost
all the enemies she had facedhad all shown that they hated her less
for her crimefighting efforts (and the successes she had enjoyed) and more
because she was a woman. Now she learned that this hatred was present among
the police, too. The beautiful Champion of Mitropoulos felt her heart fall
to the pit of her stomach. She murmured finally, Oh, all right. I
know.
Can you meet me in an hour at the Good Shepherd Hospital?
That was where Karen worked. She simply answered Yes, and, with
that, the Maiden of Mitropoulos took a step from the vault and made her way
to the rear exit. Her phenomenal strength had been restored and she again
moved with her usual ease and grace. Maria stared after her with admiration
and fear: Admiration for her strength and her ability to inspire; fear for
her safety.
*****
Crimson Flare was back in Karens apartment in a matter of moments.
They were long moments for the Champion as she sped through the streets of
Mitropoulos just as the rising sun was brightening the eastern sky. She avoided
contact with any of the citys nocturnal denizens. As she pushed open
the door, Lynn was waiting.
The smile on Lynns face was wiped away the instant Karen removed her
mask. The bluish bruise on the side of her head was still in evidence; the
redness around her eyes had not vanished with the removal of the dildo. When
Karen saw her blonde roommate, she burst anew into tears and Lynn rushed
to embrace her friend.
Oh, Lynn, it was terrible. I have never been so frightened! I
couldnt control anything! I had no strength! It was like someone else
was controlling everything!
Lynn led the sobbing heroine across the room to the sofa and laid her down.
The blonde nestled herself underneath her head, still covered in the vinyl
cowl. As the heroine recounted the evenings events, her friend slowly
removed the black vinyl and began to smooth the short, matted hair beneath
it.
When Karen reached the point of recounting Apes appearance at the fur
salon, Lynn felt fear grip her insides. Her caresses extended down the face
of her friend as she gently brushed her jaw line from the point of her chin
all the way back up to her ear. When a tear rolled from her reddened eye,
the athletic blonde carefully wiped it away. She gently brushed the bruise
on the side of her face. Lynn noticed the remains of a bruise, a duplicate
of the one on the side of Karens unmasked face, on the heroines
bare arm. She knew from Karens description that similar marks would
be found on her back and chest. From Karens tone and the pitch of her
voice, Lynn could tell that Mitropoulos Champion was still feeling
the pain and humiliation of her defeat.
Although she retrieved the memory only in bits and pieces, as she had drifted
in and out of consciousness during her ordeal, the painful memory of Ape
pulling off her costume, revealing her chest, came through in a vast wash
of torment. Karen explained that Ape had tied her wrists, and, as soon as
that had begun, weakness! and not simply a loss of
strengthhad flowed across her and the unconsciousness in fact became
less frequent, as if the sensation had excited her. She described
how he roughly pulled her to her feet, restraining her by holding her arms;
she only watched as Nancy pulled her uniform away from her sex and inserted
the dildo she had taken from the black bag that Karen remembered from the
MacLeod-Slaughter mansion. Karen told her friend how good it felt.
Then, when she had been hogtied, the powerlessness worked on her psyche and
fulfilled her fantasies of vulnerability.
It was long minutes before the devastated heroine could speak again.
Im supposed to go to the hospital to meet the policewoman whos
making out the report.
When?
Karen turned toward the clock. She sighed when she saw the time. In
about ten minutes. She felt the tears welling up in her again. I
dont know whether I can wear my costume outside again.
Thats what Nancy is counting on. She wants to destroy you. Killing
you is secondary.
That sounds like a college psychology major.
You said that they could have killed you. If they wanted to kill you,
they would have. But Nancy stopped Ape. She has other plans. And that is
a college psychology major talking: Twelve hours of abnormal and criminal
psychology. I use it every day in my work.
Karen sat up. She reached into her ear and removed the crushed
sensor-transmitter. As she stared at the failed earpiece, she rolled it around
on the palm of her satin-gloved hand. This worked, at least until Ape
smashed it. I need to find something that cant be broken. I
she paused and took a deep breath, cant be broken again.
She tipped her hand and dropped the miniature device to the floor. I
cant be broken again.
When Karen stood up, Lynns eyes followed her. As the young blonde stared
up at her friend, she realised how stunning a figure Crimson Flare was! The
skin-tight sequined costume showed every nook and crevice in her body; her
breasts, though small, became perfectly rounded mounds beneath that body-hugging
spandex, reflecting the light from around the room; the colourless tights
glinting as they showed off the perfection of her legs; and the highly-polished
leather of her black boots flashing as she walked. And packed into that body
was the strength of a dozen men. No wonder Crimson Flare was the talk of
Mitropoulos!
I have to go.
*****
Officer Blakeman sat in a patrol car in the parking lot at the hospital.
Crimson Flare found her with no difficulty and knocked on the glass on the
passenger side of the vehicle. The policewoman gestured for the masked heroine
to take a seat with her. When the door had been closed, the two women sat
quietly for a moment.
How are you? You seemed so badly battered when we found you, I was
surprised you were able to walk from the room under your own power.
My body heals wounds quickly. I guess I can recover from any kind of
mistreatment equally quickly, Crimson Flare replied evenly. What
do you need for your report? She didnt think she would feel
uncomfortable, but she was disturbed by the circumstances of this meeting.
Maria wasnt ready to make the visit official yet. She was worried about
the small figure sitting next to her. She cast a furtive glance at the
discoloured tights that stretched downward from her crotch, the result of
the orgasms dragged from her during her ordeal. I shouldnt ask
what happened. But I have to know. Im worried about your well-being.
Cant you tell me anything about what was going on?
There are a couple of criminals who are trying to
destroy me.
As soon as she said it, the Maid of Mitropoulos knew how it sounded. They
want to kill me, like any criminal in Mitropoulos, she hastened to
add, but this womanNancy, I dont know her last namewants
to humiliate me, to destroy my reputation. Shes treating it as if she
had a personal vendetta against me. And shes using Ape Greystook as
her tool to do it.
Ape Greystook? Hes back?
After some time in a Colombian prison. Hes combined the remnants
of the Savoyards and the Normans into a new gang. He seems to be trying to
establish himself as a drug lord. A few nights ago, at the MacLeod-Slaughter
Mansion, I intercepted his first shipment. Now hes in debt.
Was that the night the city went crazy with
crimes? I remember cops all
over town were scared out of their minds.
That was the night. It was all to cover the delivery of the
drugs.
There were a lot of cops who wondered where you were. So you were at
the mansion stopping the delivery. But how does this relate to where we found
you last night?
Crimson Flare paused. She didnt want to confide in a stranger what
had happened at the mansion. She finally said, When I went to the mansion,
I lost my baton. Last night, I was trying to get it back.
Maria reached down past the tense Champion to the floor of the vehicle.
Here it is. She handed the heroine the two-and-a-half-foot long
rod. Crimson gratefully took the weapon from her.
Did they use it against you last night? Maria tried to imagine
the power of the baton turned against a person, even a superheroine.
They tried to. But when Ape surprised me and beat me, that was how
I got in that condition. She was relieved that she wasnt required
to reveal any more. It was true that Ape had surprised her, but she
had wound up in the condition the police had discovered her through a more
wrenching set of circumstances. She couldnt tell the policeman about
her weakness resulting from bondage, even though word of that was evidently
already getting around Mitropoulos underworld. She had known that for
some time. This new weakness, the weakness she so enjoyed, was different.
It was different because it came upon her when her strength was snatched
from her by bondage. When she had her strength, the ecstasy was in check,
though she could still feel it tickling her, reaching out from the darkness
in her own psyche to titillate her, to offer the promise of bliss. All she
had to do was allow herself to be bound!
Satisfied, Officer Blakeman took Crimson Flares statement for her report
on the break-in at Venables. When they were through, Crimson Flare
heaved a deep sigh. How
? she began.
After a moment, Maria turned toward her heroine inquiringly. The heroines
green eyes were frightened behind her mask. How many police
she said slowly, how many
want to
She stopped, not
knowing how to finish the question. She was remembering why Maria had asked
her to meet her here, rather than at the station.
How many police want to see you defeated, maybe even dead?
Crimson Flare nodded.
Not many. Not even a lot. But theyre vocal. Every time you wrap
up a criminal, they talk about how youre showboating, that you dont
understand what real police have to do. The other night, when you
were at the mansion and we didnt know where you were, one guy said
that you were scared of real police work and that was why you werent
helping. Maria was feeling anger herself now. They talk about
how, just once, you need to have your ass kicked; how theyd like to
see you get she stopped short.
Say it, the heroine said.
No.
fucked, the avenger said quietly.
Without another word, Crimson Flare exited the car and quickly disappeared.
*****
Lynn was waiting when Karen returned. She could tell that the heroine had
not been cheered by her meeting with the policewoman.
As soon as she was inside the apartment, Karen was throwing off her uniform.
Her bruised body stood naked in the living room, as she pulled off her black
leather boots and then the stained, dishonoured tights. The deep bluish-black
of the bruises on her body was already fading at the edges, while the depth
of the discolouration on the side of her head was already visibly lessened.
The blonde girl knew that she would have to compose her friend following
whatever had occurred in the meeting. But she was unprepared for the combination
of despair and fury that spilled out as the frustrated heroine told her about
the police. The one bright spot Crimson Flare had always held, the single
belief that had always reconciled her to the dangers and degradations that
were part of what she did, was the trust that the police appreciated her
effort and contribution, that there was unanimity there about the worthiness
of her efforts.
And now THIS
has happened to me and there are police who
are overjoyed by the defeat and humiliation that Crimson Flare is suffering.
Why have I got myself into this? Everything is falling apart! Stacy
and I wanted to do Good. We wanted to make the city a better place. Now Stacy
is dead. And Ive become
become
.
Her friend wanted to say something to help, but there seemed nothing left
to say. Lynn had taken on Stacys role of reassuring Karen about the
value of Crimson Flares work, but a large part of that argument had
centered on the support of the police. Now that case had been undermined
by some Neanderthals among them. And the most valuable ally the police had
may be lost.
and Ive become
. Karen was speaking more softly
now, but there was no lessening of her emotion. Ive become a
sex maniac. I live for the sensations of sex. Whenever I am not
experiencing that kind of thrill, I want only to reach those heights again.
Only my great strength keeps me in check. But when Im bound, that strength
is gone, and the desire takes over. There are even times I want to
be bound, just so I can find that pleasure again.
What will I do? Her shoulders had slumped, and her small form
seemed smaller than ever. I cant
I cant
I
cant be Crimson Flare
any more.
Karen, even if
Lynn was struggling to make sense to her
friend. Even if you
arent Crimson Flare ever again,
you have to get better. You cant go through the rest of your life like
that. That road leads nowhere.
Karen looked at her friend. Ive thought of that. The blank,
depressed stare that covered her usually shining green eyes told Lynn all
she needed to know.
You got your baton back, Lynn changed the subject.
Yes, the officer returned it. At least, it wont be used to break
open any more security doors.
Lynn put her arm around the shoulders of her friend. Why dont
you get some sleep. Ill call Professor Brayfield and see what he can
tell me about the investigations hes been carrying on. Now she
decided to take a chance. Do you think you would be willing to go to
see him? Hes one of the best in his field, and he had serious doubts
about the earpiece anyway. Would you see him as Crimson Flare?
*****
Dr. Bill Brayfield stared longingly at the heroine who sat in front of him.
He watched as her legs entwined and released, reflecting her nervousness
and, he suspected, her pent-up sexuality; the sound of her tights rustling
against the soft leather of his couch added to the stimuli distracting him
as he attempted to understand the young girls problem.
So, until you lost your virginity you had complete control over your
strength and your sexual desires; and your sex drive was not an impediment
to your mission as you saw it? he asked, choosing his words
carefully.
Thats right, Doctor Brayfield. I was strung out on drugs while
I was held captive in the subway. Then to pay for the drugs I wanted, the
gang made me serve as their prostitute. Crimson Flare spoke quietly,
ashamed. But, she added quickly, once I was freed from
my bonds and my strength came into play, the desire for the drugs was quickly
defeated.
And that desire has not returned.
And that desire has not returned, she repeated, quietly, but
with a measure of pride.
Has sex become your drug of choice?
Crimson Flare was taken aback by the question. She had not thought of her
condition in those terms. She was so proud of her seemingly easy victory
over the drugs introduced during her time of trial that she had not seen
the two eventsdrug dependence and loss of virginityas related.
II called myself
a
sex maniac
a few days ago.
Maybe
I
am.
Every drug dependency has a trigger, the Professor said, leaning
forward in his chair. What triggers the demand in you? He already
knew the answer.
The heroines eyes burned as she fought to maintain control. She squeezed
her eyes shut and felt a tear roll down her right cheek. What can I
do? she almost whispered.
Trust me.
Crimson Flare shot a hard look directly at the doctor. She had not trusted
anyone totallytotallysince Stacey had died. She had not revealed
herself fully even to Lynn, who had come to replace her late friend in so
many ways.
Brayfield stood up and extended his arms. Youll have to put yourself
entirely in my hands.
I dont know if I can do that, Doctor.
You will have to. I think I know a way out of your dilemma. He
noted the quizzical look behind her mask and smiled. Its more
philosophical than medical. But its predicated on the fact that it
wasnt the loss of your virginity that triggered your current situation.
You have studied martial arts?
Yes, I have.
Well, then you know how to fight someone with greater strength. The
strength of this
dependency
is growing, isnt it?
It is becoming more and more difficult to resist, he said, thinking
of her beguiling, entwining, legs, isnt it?
She sighed. Yes.
It wont be long before your strength will not be able to save
you from its effects. But in jiu-jitsu and other martial arts, arent
you taught to use your opponents strength against him? He saw
the light go on behind her deep green eyes. Move at your enemys
strength, rather than trying to avoid it. This condition arose when you were
physically addicted to drugs, while you were in a physically weakened condition.
As long as that addiction and weakness were present, you didnt experience
the dependency on sex. But, as I said, your dependency isnt about the
loss of your virginity, or simply having sex. What you seek, from what
youve said, is the orgasm. Thats the rush that you formerly got
from taking drugs. And that rush
he smiled, was accomplished
as a result of your physical weakness.
Crimson Flare smiled at the professors explanation, but the smile
disappeared as he continued.
I will have to bind you, he half-smiled inwardly at that prospect,
and then re-introduce the drug addiction. And once we have that condition
re-created, then we can remove both of the cravings. Its like
going back to the point in time where it was born, and killing it in the
cradle.
Crimson Flare remembered the dependency on the drugs. She remembered, faintly,
vaguely, how she had debased herself for money. She remembered the mockery
of the Normans, of Chan and Cos; she remembered the pain she felt when she
didnt have enough money to buy drugs. She saw herself moving around
the subway station, her hands bound, trying to get money by offering sex.
She felt her heart pounding in her chest as she realised that she would have
to re-live those days. How long?
It will take longer to re-create your drug dependency than it will
to break you of the hold of both of these terrors. The last time, from what
you have told me, it lasted about a week, more or less. It should be about
the same.
If you want, I can have Lynn here to help you through it.
That would be
nice. She hated herself for using such a
pitiful word for what Lynn would do.
*****
Crimson Flare was naked except for her mask. Lynn was sitting next to her
bed at the Doctors apartment. Lynn asked that her friends identity
be kept secret, so the black vinyl protecting her face remained in place
even though the remainder of her familiar uniform had been removed.
The heroine was bathed in sweat. It poured off her soaking the sheets that
lay beneath her. Soft, padded straps running across her shoulders, hips,
and just above her knees secured her body to the mattress. At her ankles
were leather bondage devices that held her extremities securely but gently
in place, spreading her legs obscenely on top of the bed. Her wrists were
bound by soft ropes and, right now, they lay discretely on top of her dark
brown muff. At the crook of her left elbow, the track marks had returned
to mar the pristine beauty of her flawless skin. A week of drug use, intensely
monitored by both Dr. Brayfield and her friend, had created an intense craving
that had led to both the sweats and the periodic shaking that wracked her
body. Lynn had remained constantly with her throughout the ordeal, the professor
only entering the bedroom to check on the physical condition and to administer
the carefully measured doses.
Brayfield had told Lynn that the lights in the room should be kept dim, in
order that the Champions stimulation be minimised. He took advantage
of this condition to observe the agony of the Maid of Mitropoulos through
a small hole in the wall from his own bedroom, next door. It had been a long
time since he had had a woman at his apartment and even longer since one
had been in his bed. To have one so desirable, so venerated, and so beautiful
was beyond his wildest dreams. To see her naked gave him an opportunity to
vent his frustrations.
When Crimson had been returned to the physical dependence on the drugs, Dr.
Brayfield began the careful process of treatment: a combination of hypnosis,
injections, and massage therapy. This was coupled with the periodic untying
of her wrists, so that her strength returned to overwhelm the desire for
a fix. But then a return to bondage allowed for a residue of the power of
the addiction to continually return, but not so strong with each application.
It would be fortified by a fresh, but gradually decreasing, injection of
drugs. This menu of treatment eventually achieved what Dr. Brayfield had
hypothesised was possible. He weaned his heroic charge from her multiple
dependences.
*****
You need to get some rest, Lynn. Youve only had about two
hours sleep a night for the past eight days. You are absolutely
exhausted. Professor Bill Brayfield spoke soothingly to his former
student. She was in no condition to defy the man who was both her mentor
and her friend. Crimson Flare is almost out of the woods. Shell
sleep for another few hours, so why shouldnt you do so, also? If she
wakes up sooner, Ill call you. I know you want to be here when I untie
her wrists for the last time. Wearily, the young blonde nodded.
Here. When you get home take just one of these he handed
her a tiny white paper envelope containing a weak sedativeand
youll fall asleep immediately. Youll sleep for several hours.
When you wake up, come back here and we can wake her together. Im sure
shell need to see you when she comes out of her delirium. Lynn
didnt resist as the doctor almost pushed her out the door.
No sooner had the door slammed, Brayfield was moving quickly to the guest
bedroom that was the quarters of Mitropoulos beautiful Champion. He
stepped through the door and stared at her smooth, unmoving body, still lying
on her back on his bedon his bed. He already had his shirt
unbuttoned and was tearing it from his pudgy torso. You dont
know how I have dreamed of this, dearest Crimson. Youll never
know.
In the dim light, her petite form shone. The straps that had previously
restrained her shoulders, hips and knees had been removed. All that remained
of her familiar costume was the black vinyl mask that covered the upper half
of her face; even the shiny cowl had been removed, revealing her short, twisted
shocks of dark brown hair. Behind the mask her eyes were closed. Her mouth
was slightly opened, her breathing smooth but deep. The torments of the previous
days had taken their toll. Her petite form looked even smaller than usual.
She lay flat on her back, her head supported by the Professors small
pillows. Her shoulders, lying still below her head were aligned in a smooth
arch. Her small breasts jutted upward from her chest; in the near-darkness
of the bedroom, the colour of her nipples and aureole were barely distinguishable
from her tanned torso. The movement of her breathing expanded her chest
noticeably, and he watched her flesh tighten just below her rib cage as her
chest rose and fell. Brayfields penis filled and elevated when he got
to her hips, a sheer miracle of construction: round, smooth, and muscular.
At their base, in the centre, the tuft of dark brown hair hid the object
of his anticipation. Sitting on top of this miracle of nature were her bound
hands, bared now, crimson satin gloves tossed aside with her costume. Just
above the angle created by the bound wrists her tiny navel peered up at him.
Just below the unmoving fingers (he noticed how short the nails were; he
was sure that she bit them, a sign of her insecurity), another angle was
formed by her spread thighs, the lines of her legs determined by the bondage
wrappings at her ankles that secured her to the bed.
With her wrists bound, she was powerless. Unconscious, she was unaware of
his presence. Naked, and with her legs spread, she was accessible, asking
for it. And masked, she was anonymous. The psychologist understood the full
implications of his lust. He was not about to disappoint her.
No, youll never know. He fumbled with his belt. All
my life, Ive wanted to have the beautiful girl. They liked to talk
to me, they laughed at my jokes. They liked to be with me. But they never
went out with me. They never would let me touch them. He stopped his
tearing and fumbling and stood over the unmoving heroine. He reached down
and passed his fingertips over her belly, gently brushing across her forearms
and then the inside of her left thigh. But youre different,
arent you?
You understand what its like to be the outcast. He pressed
his hand upward on her sex, his middle finger seeking entry to her. She was
dry inside, and his finger only penetrated as far as the first knuckle before
the rough interior barred further movement. You will be grateful to
me. Ive beaten back the very sexuality of your body, Ive returned
control of your body to you. He smiled. What reward will you
offer me? Your thanks?
Actually, my beautiful heroine, wed reached this point two days
ago, he confided. The last forty-eight hours have been just for
show.
My beautiful heroine, he chuckled. Ill bet you
werent beautiful until you became a heroine. You understand the mask
and the costume very well, dont you, Crimson Flare? The mystery, the
aura of virginity unsullied, the appeal of a powerful woman: you know how
to use these. He raised her from the bed, so that the unconscious
crimefighter now sat awkwardly with her legs spread, her ankles secured in
the bondage devices near the corners of the mattress. Her head slumped toward
her chest and her bound hands dropped to the mattress, coming to rest directly
in front of her most private reserve.
My beautiful heroine. Brayfield sensed the opportunity to find
the area that had frequently been denied to him by other women and reached
his middle finger toward her vagina, pushing her bound hands out of the way.
He began stroking her hidden clitoris, trying to encourage it to bud under
what he thought were gentle ministrations. He eased himself next to her,
so that he whispered into her uncovered ear. You understand me; you
know the sense of being different. You understand how difficult it is to
conform when you know that youre different from everyone else. How
did you hide your secret from prying eyes and wagging tongues, hmmmh?
The attack on the unyielding blossom was harsher now, discomfort even showing
through her unconscious visage. A small groan escaped her lips.
Brayfield immediately pulled back. Oh, no, Beautiful. I wont
hurt you. You know I wont hurt you. He removed his finger from
inside her. But you want me to do this. I know. You want to offer your
thanks in the only way a real woman can. He reached down to her nearer ankle
and easily pulled the bondage wrap free. Then, he pushed on her thigh, so
that the leg extended directly to the front of Mitropoulos Champion.
He admired the round smoothness of the thigh and the even sculptured
functionalism of the knee. He kept his hand on her thigh for a long time
as he absorbed the silky feel of the skin. He slid his hand underneath the
leg and then moved it toward his own body, so that his fingers once again
found the entry to her. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, for a second time the
Psychology Professor manipulated the roseate organ he found there. Plucking
the clit like the string of a harp, he felt her unconscious body shudder
in his embrace.
Thats the way, Beautiful. Give yourself to me. Her head
lolled back and her tanned, perfect throat opened itself before him. Gently,
he placed his lips along the pulsing carotid artery, and he kissed her, softly.
Oh, my darling, he whispered.
His fingers were working more diligently now, opening her. He could feel
her honey begin its lubrication to smooth and facilitate the movement. His
fingers were not so dexterous as they had once been, years ago, but as his
ring finger penetrated the heroine, he heard a soft sigh mixed with a moan.
Beautiful, he whispered. Pressing his two fingers in and out
of Mitropoulos heroic Maiden, the pungent smell of her sex swelled
around his nostrils. As the two digits circled inside her sex, he felt the
smooth slipperiness invite him to go deeper. Yes, he said into
her ear, so softly it was almost like a breath moving across a pond. Yes,
its what we both want. He removed his hand and laid her back
down on the bed. By this time his member had swollen to full size, painfully
overreaching its own genetic limits. His balls ached as he brought Crimson
Flares inner perfume to his nostrils. He rubbed the still-damp fingers
on his upper lip and flicked his tongue to the fingers, tasting the acrid
fluid. Everything about you is heavenly, my dear superheroine,
he confided.
Her body lay twisted on the bed, her right ankle still secured by the bondage
wrapping to the lower corner of the bed, and her torso curved in the shape
of a C toward the upper part of the Queen-sized mattress. Her
shapely left leg went off at a tangent from her hips forming, now, a 45°
angle with the bound leg. The shadow he saw between her legs was enticing.
You wont mind, dear. Brayfield was whispering anxiously
now. Together, weve beaten your demons. You wont have the
desire for helplessness that almost destroyed you. And that was because of
your faith in me. You owe me much more than your thanks. I should get the
reward that every knight in shining armour deserves. He moved to a
seated position at the entrance to her sex. Placing his hands on top of the
heroines hips, he began to slowly rock to and fro as he spoke more
and more agitatedly to her.
Leaning forward, he placed the side of his face against her chest, gently
rubbing back and forth against her, listening to her heart, kissing and licking
her breast. The psychologist next rose and placed himself at her entrance,
at the same time reaching down to remove the final fur-padded leather wrap
from her ankle. That accomplished, he looked at her masked face, and in it
he saw all the loves of his life. Barbara, he murmured, and he
placed his hands on her upper arms. He kissed her left breast, lingering
to gently bite the nipple.
Then she became Penny and he kissed her on the lips. For
Susan he felt tears roll down his cheeks and he rose up on his
knees to stare down on the unmoving symbol of the womanhood that been denied
him for so long. Oh, dearest Susan. In the dim light the petite
form of the masked Maiden could become the long lost love he so much wanted
to be there. He lifted her up again and settled her onto the tip of his engorged
prick. As she slid gently over him, he felt his heart hammering in his chest.
The beating was so heavy he thought it was like it would smash through the
ribcage.
I love you. Both of the figures were upright, she straddling
his thighs with her own; he both knelt and sat on the bed, his arms wrapped
around her naked torso, pressing now her breasts against his own. Every nerve
in his body was sensitive to her presence, and he could feel the outlines
of her breasts against his chest. Her arms passed over his shoulders, and
her still-bound wrists kept their embrace around him. Her head slid from
his shoulder to lie now against his chest, as he had wished for a woman to
do so often. Brayfield pushed himself deep into the unresisting heroine.
As he embraced her more and more tightly, her sex clamped tightly over his
organ both stimulating it and increasing his frenzy. He pulled her desirable
body tightly against him and he rose up from his semi-sitting position onto
his knees. Oh, god, he gasped.
His body moved slowly, to some extent uncertainly. He rose and fell on his
haunches, lifting the unconscious woman with him. Her head rested comfortably
on him, her short dark hair in his face. He loved the sweaty smell. Up and
down, the two rode his ecstasy together. His hands felt her spine and the
muscles of her back, finely tuned and powerful. The power of this woman only
served to excite him even more.
Tears poured from his eyes and he pushed her body away, until her wrists
locked against the back of his neck. Gently, as gently as he had ever done
anything, he slowly brought her body back to the mattress, following her
with his own. Now he lay on top of her, and he began the familiar rhythmic
motion of intercourse. Oh, dear god, he thought. Nothing
I have ever done is comparable to this!
He stared down at the masked face of Mitropoulos vigilante guardian.
He was sure she smiled as he pressed his manhood deeper into her and he wrapped
his feet and ankles around hers. He moved his hands down from her back so
that he cupped her cheeks, his middle fingers massaging the crack between
them. He pushed himself up and shrugged her arms off his shoulders. Now he
was looking down on her naked body from the point of view of her conqueror,
her lack of resistance convinced him that he was in charge. Thats
wonderful, Angel, he said softly. Just give yourself to me.
Next his hands moved to her smooth, powerful shoulders and her used them
to both stimulate and support himself. His rhythm was faster now.
Each time he plunged into her, he groaned loudly. He had stopped talking
to her as the act became less about his frustrated love and become more about
his sexual desire. He had mastered Crimson Flare! She had become his woman!
He was her first and greatest partner, her saviour. The power of his intellect
had helped her to restore her strength, to resume her heroine role.
His groans were faster now, one almost indistinguishable from the next. Each
time he rammed himself into her, he saw her whole upper body shudder from
the collision. Stimulated inside her, his prick finally exploded in a series
of convulsive blasts, releasing a lifetimes pent-up desires and
frustrations. Aaagghhh! Aagghhh!! No! He didnt
want it to end. He wanted to remain joined to the greatest woman of her age,
and he wanted her to know that he had saved her. Sweat mixed with tears as
his head lay on top of her chest. He blubbered his curses at mans inability
to extend interminably the bliss of the moment.
Brayfield was spent, exhausted. He could still feel the grip of her sex on
his now-shriveled prick; he didnt want to withdraw from her. Frozen
in position, he felt himself start to slide out of her slippery canal. Desperate
to hold the joy a moment longer, he shifted to press again into the Champion
of Mitropoulos. Instead, the small movement completed his exit. The sense
of loss enveloped him; the knowledge that his triumph ended slowly crept
over him.
He lifted her and pressed her against his body, the sense of loss wringing
him emotionally. He pressed his face against her chest, kissing her again
and again, eventually taking her breast fully into his mouth. He sucked her
noisily, unashamedly, knowing that this would be his last opportunity to
create a sensual memory of the experience. As he did so, he remembered the
feel of her skin, the tingling of his prick, the sensations that had excited
every nerve in his body. He recalled the excitation of the explosion inside
her and he sniffed her body, trying to memorise every detail of her odor.
The recognition of all of these elements stimulated him anew, and his penis
rose again, as from the dead, pressing itself between their two forms.
Overwhelmed by the reminiscences and sensual memory, unable to restrain himself,
he exploded again, covering both himself and the object of his adoration
with the white, sticky streams of his affection.
*****
Yes, Lynn, its over. Why dont you wake her up? Professor
Brayfield straightened his tie as he spoke quietly to his former student.
Lynn looked at her friend lying on the bed. Her bound wrists rested on her
dark brown muff, hiding part of it. Her legs were spread, secured in the
bondage devices at the lower corners of the mattress. She seemed to rest
comfortably.
Ill leave you two alone together, he said as he began to
leave. Wake her first, then undo the bonds. He smiled. Her
uniform is on the chair. He pulled the door shut behind him, then moved
quickly to his bedroom next door. He would watch their reunion in his own
way.
End of Chapter Seven
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome: contact the author at
marat1793@earthlink.net