Crimson Flare: Ape’s Grab for Power
by marat
Chapter Eight
Karen lay on her bed, wearing only a bra and panties. Her hard body was dry
and relaxed and her face was calm and composed; broken slats of light streamed
through the partly opened blinds and across her body and the bed. For the
first time in weeks, she was at peace. She lay on her side, sleeping soundly.
Her dreams were of simple pleasures, not the symbolic nightmares of rape
and desire that had continuously awakened her during the time of her terror
not so long ago.
She had slept for the last ten hours. Not the drug-induced, dreamless sleep
of Professor Brayfield’s cure, but a real sleep, a sleep that
refreshed her, that showed that she had healed, that she was again in possession
of her powers and abilities. Lynn had called the hospital to tell them that
Karen would not be coming in last evening, following her week’s vacation.
Whoever it was that Lynn had spoken to had told her that she had thought
that Karen must have been coming down with something, that she had seemed
tired and irritable the last few days that she had worked. Then the hospital
worker had hung up with a hope that Karen would be better in a few days.
The sunlight awoke the refreshed woman fully rested. ‘It feels so good
to just lay here,’ she thought. ‘Clean sheets, a comfortable mattress,
a warming sun: What else could I want right
now?’ She stretched and
curled her body like a cat in the sun, enjoying its warmth. Opening her eyes
at last, she looked around the room. Though the layout of her room had not
changed, it looked different, as she saw it through fresh eyes. As she scanned
her space, she finally saw Lynn standing in the doorway. The lithe blonde
was holding a steaming cup in each hand.
‘English Breakfast or Lapsang Souchong?’ she asked, smiling.
‘Ooooohhh,’ Karen stretched again. ‘I don’t want to make
any decisions. Just give me one.’ She sat up in bed, reaching for the
steaming mug offered by her friend. She sipped the drink, and then smiled
back at Lynn. ‘I owe you my life.’
‘Professor Brayfield saved your life. I was just in the room.’
‘I remember… that every time I woke up you were there. Didn’t
you sleep at all?’
‘You don’t realise how much you slept. It was fairly easy to catch
a nap with all the time you spent in the arms of Morpheus.’
‘In the arms of Shiva, you mean. I was never rested. I kept seeing things
and I didn’t know whether I was asleep or awake. It was like I was being
turned inside out. Sometimes I thought I was back on the subway platform.
I saw Stacy.’ She paused, and then continued, ‘And she turned into
you.’
‘But Professor Brayfield let you call on your strength to defeat the
pain. Every time he unbound your wrists, I could see that the pain and turmoil
were gone.’
‘You know, Lynn, I can’t remember any of that. I absolutely do
not remember any moment such as you describe. I— The entire week is
a haze of colours and feeling the worst agony I’ve ever experienced,
with brief—very brief—moments of clarity. There was a feeling
of—I don’t know, bewilderment?—a sense that I was living outside
of my body. I thought that whatever was happening to me had happened before
and I was watching myself live through this horror again and again and again.
I thought that there would be no end to the torment. And there was—pulling
at me from somewhere—this sense of unrelenting dread. Not only was I
in pain, but I also felt like it was never going to end, that it was only
going to get worse.’
‘When were you conscious that it had ended?’
‘Only when I woke up for the last time. I don’t know of anything
that happened to me before regaining consciousness for the last time—I
only have these feelings of fear and emptiness. I was conscious of being
in the room for only mere moments during that week. It always looked the
same. The darkness, the ugly furniture, the bookshelves. But you were always
there. I saw you just before I lost consciousness each time; I don’t
know how many times it was. But you were there for each of those moments.
Then, it simply ended. And you were still there.’
‘The pain is gone?’
‘Yes.’
‘And… so is… the….’
‘Yes. I remember… that… I was fighting to resist the impulse
for sex. So many times, I just wanted to plunge something into myself; I
wanted to do it just to force myself to orgasm, to get that rapturous feeling
back. I just wanted to cum. Now, it’s much more like it was before…
before the Normans captured me. I can… I… I don’t feel the
sensation in my groin that screamed out for satisfaction, for contact with…
I don’t know, anything. There’s no urge demanding to be
fulfilled that will be frustrated, left empty. It used to be that this demand
was always present, that it would never go away. When I had my strength,
I could fight it. I never got used to it, and when I was bound by the Normans,
or by Ape and Nancy, it was so painful, and even though I knew that if I
didn’t get rid of it, it would consume me, maybe even kill me, I
still… I still’—here tears welled up in the heroine’s
eyes and they glistened in the afternoon sunlight—‘I still…
wanted… the feeling, I wanted to have someone… inside me.’
Lynn wanted to remove the wounded look from her friend’s eyes, so she
changed the subject. ‘But that’s gone now, right? You
feel…?’
‘I feel good. For the first time in weeks, I don’t have this glowering
cloud over my head, distracting me from everything else. I can eat, sleep,
do whatever I want. And there’s no demand from inside to satisfy an
urgency that would never have been filled. I don’t want to have someone
inside me.’
‘So you have no desire for sex?’ Lynn smiled.
‘None whatsoever.’
‘Really?’ Lynn brushed her hand gently against her friend’s
back.
‘Really.’ Karen took in a deep breath and closed her eyes as she
released it. But Lynn could sense an involuntary quivering in her body.
‘So you are oblivious to any seductive moves I may make.’
‘Utterly and absolutely.’
‘How about--?’ Lynn teased, brushing her hand up and down Karen’s
back, from the top of her panties to the nape of her neck.
‘That’s nice. But it’s the way it used to be. And it’s
not setting off something more menacing down inside.’
Lynn pushed her hand under the black panties, her middle finger feeling its
way along the hidden crack, seeking the fruity center of Karen. The tautness
of the nylon panties rubbing against the back of her hand coupled with the
silken smoothness of the skin against her palm and fingers. Well, Lynn thought,
if she isn’t turned on, I certainly am. Her middle finger plunged
up to its second knuckle inside her relaxing roommate. She massaged Karen’s
clit from the rear, as the brunette simply squirmed and purred. ‘Ohh,
that feels nice.’
Yes, Lynn thought. It was nice.
*****
For two successive nights, Crimson Flare had been on a one-woman crusade.
She seemed to be everywhere at once, her strength and speed delivering hammer
blows at the reawakening Greystook criminal enterprise. Using information
Lynn had gathered from police reports and internet sources, the sequined
superheroine had successfully intercepted half-a-dozen deliveries to Ape
Greystook fronts, interrupted an equal number of robberies by Greystook
operatives (and, to the delight of Maria Blakeman and others, turned the
perps over to the police), and even destroyed a stash of arms that Ape had
gathered during Crimson Flare’s treatment. Thirteen of Ape’s gang
had been turned over to the police, caught in the act, three others who had
decided to fight it out with the Maid of Mitropoulos had been injured, and
two of Ape’s trucks had been reduced to burning hulks. If Ape had thought
he would soon pay off the drug suppliers so disappointed at the McLeod-Slaughter
drop, the last two nights had ended that hope.
Ape was furious. And in his fury he turned on Nancy.
‘What do you want me to say, Ape?’ she pleaded through cracked,
bloodied lips. ‘The bitch must have figured some way
to—aaarrrrgggghhhh!’ Ape’s ham-sized fist smashed against
the side of her face, dropping the redhead back to the floor.
‘I don’t want to hear your excuses,’ Ape said menacingly.
‘“She must have figured out how to control her sex drive.”
That’s not going to cut it. You told me there was NO WAY she could stop
this thing. NO WAY! And now she’s burning my trucks and arresting my
men. I’m worse off than I was when I was in prison. I got the dealers
after me for the money I owe, and I got this fucking superheroine trying
to kill my business. Well, you listen to me, sweetie: there’s NO WAY
I’m going down alone. You got me into this and you’re going to
go down with me when it ends.’
Nancy looked up at the hulking figure towering over her. ‘Ape, honey,’
she said in the most alluring voice she could muster, ‘I know I told
you that drugs could mean big money, and that we could take care of Crimson
Slut if we could jack up her sex drive enough. And we still can take care
of her. If you’ll just give me a chance.’ The desperation in her
voice gave Ape pause.
Ape’s hesitation gave Nancy her opening. ‘Listen, Ape, she’s
got to be just holding on. You saw how easily she fell into those
stupid traps we set. You saw her trying to get off on that dildo I put in
her. The only thing that’s operating inside her head is the desire to
hump. If we could get her into a situation where the choice is between capturing
evil-doers, like us, and getting laid, well, there’s no doubt about
which way she’d jump.’ Nancy wasn’t sure about the validity
of what she was saying, but she was sure she could convince Ape that
it was true. And in a confrontation between Ape and the superslut, anything
might happen.
‘What do you think we should do?’
Nancy silently took a deep sigh of relief. ‘Do you think you could take
her? I mean, if you got into a one-on-one match with her, could you beat
her? If we make it look easy for her, she’ll be careless, and we can
have an advantage. If you fight her one-on-one, honey, can you beat her?’
Nancy knew that the big dope would have confidence in his strength. He
wasn’t smart enough to be wary of the powerful superheroine; more guts
than brains, her father used to say.
Ape drew himself up to his full height, all six-foot-six; he took in a deep
breath and held it a brief moment, so that his chest and shoulders could
be seen to their best advantage. ‘What do you think, babe? Think
that little bitty can handle this?’
Yeah, Ape. I really do think she can handle that. ‘Well, OK, then. Then
we have to lure her to someplace where she’ll be at a disadvantage,
and you can use that to get rid of her. Don’t forget: all you
have to do is get her hot; her sex drive will take care of the rest. And
this time, we won’t mess around.’ Her aching jaw abbreviated
Nancy’s smile.
‘How do we get her where I can do the bitch?’ Ape smiled broadly,
stupidly.
‘I think we should use me as bait. After what I did to her, she may
still be afraid of me; but she also is sure that she could defeat me. After
all, I’m only a weak little woman. Let’s start on CRIMNET,’
Nancy responded, referring to the search engine of Mitropoulos’
underworld.
*****
‘Karen!’ Lynn called to the kitchen from her seat in front of the
computer screen. ‘Look at this.’
Karen was stirring up some pancake batter for their Sunday morning breakfast.
As she entered the study, she still curled her left arm around the bowl.
A small amount of unmixed flour smudged her chin and cheek. ‘What is
it?’
‘Don’t look much the superheroine now,’ Lynn said. Then, before
her roommate could respond, she continued quietly, ‘Nancy’s up
for sale.’
Rushing to the screen, Karen sputtered, ‘Wh-what?!!?’
‘Evidently, Ape blames her for the mess he’s got himself into.
Says here, she’s for sale, though “a bit abused and used”.’
She paused. ‘Do you think it’s a trap?’
‘Possibly. But it’s a risky one for them. Or just a stupid one.
They know that I’m not the same heroine they handled so easily back…
a couple of weeks ago.’ It still hurt to think about it.
‘Do they know you’ve recovered?’
‘Of course. They’d have to. Enough of their operatives have escaped
to get word back to them. Surely Ape and Nancy gave them instructions about
how to handle Crimson Flare if she showed up. And they must have got word
that what they were doing wasn’t working.’ She paused and thought
a moment. Maybe she shouldn’t be so sure. ‘Would they try a trap
again?’ Karen stared directly at her friend.
‘Well, let’s consider the possibilities. Ape isn’t the brightest
bulb in the box. Nancy promised him control of Mitropoulos’ criminal
empire, especially after the demise of the Normans and Savoyards, so he came
to rely on her. And, by defeating you they were this close’—here
Lynn used her thumb and index finger to show a bare centimeter’s
distance—‘to having their dream.
‘First, Crimson Flare destroyed the drug shipment, putting Ape deep
in debt. He captured you not once, but twice—once at the drug drop at
McLeod-Slaughter, and then at Venable’s. He followed Nancy’s advice,
and let you go, humiliated and defeated; she no doubt told him your career
was over. They could kill you or not, since you were at the end of your
effectiveness. However much she hated you, and for whatever reason, she thought
she was rid of you.’
‘She was at least half right.’
‘Exactly. But here it is, only a week later and you’re wrecking
their game again. The dream is all but gone. And Ape can’t see beyond
the end of his wallet. It has to be Nancy’s fault. She gave him the
advice that put him in this predicament. Here. Look at this.’ She clicked
a link on the main ad page.
Up popped a live image of the redhead, still clad in her usual denim. She
was tied to a chair, her face bloodied and bruised. Her denim shirt had been
torn open, revealing her black bra, exposing the tops of her ample breasts.
‘It looks like the bra was just pushed up for decency’s sake,’
Lynn said.
‘I don’t think decency was the principle concern of whoever set
up this camera,’ Karen said softly. She pointed to where the tapers
of the long blue shirt covered the ambitious gangster’s hips. ‘Her
pants are pulled down and you can see she’s been raped.’
‘Several times,’ her roommate added. ‘If you look close,’
she punched up a magnified image of the area she was referring to, ‘you
can see a white puddle on the chair.’ The puddle grew larger as they
stared. As was the case with her bra, it looked like Nancy’s jeans had
been hurriedly pulled up to just above her knees, trying to make her more
presentable. Neither roommate believed that Nancy was wearing panties.
‘I can’t see how this would make her an attractive item for bid.’
Karen stared at the helpless figure of her tormentor.
‘But she is.’ Lynn clicked another link, leading to the pre-auction
bids, which would set the floor price for the actual sale. A dozen bids had
already been received and the price was in the high six figures. ‘Either
she’s still highly desirable or she’s made some powerful
enemies.’
‘Where will the auction be held?’
‘You’re not seriously…?’
‘Where?’
Lynn didn’t answer for a long moment. If this were a trap, and she
didn’t think it was, she still didn’t think her roommate should
walk directly into the lions’ den.
‘Where?’ Karen asked again, her voice firmer.
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t let anyone—even someone so rank as
Nancy—fall into white slavery. The police will want the information
she has to end Ape’s grab for power.’
Lynn wasn’t sure. Slowly, she moved the cursor to another link and clicked
on it. The screen announced the auction would take place at the old Millard
Fillmore Conservatory at midnight the next night. Only those who had submitted
pre-bids would be admitted to the final sale. Karen stared at the screen.
‘That’s where I’ll be.’
*****
Darkness reigned inside the old conservatory. In this part of the old city
of Mitropoulos, street lighting was barely adequate. Most of the streetlights
worked, but the brightness they provided was so low that the yellow glow
they offered seemed to coat everything it touched rather than illuminate
it. Inside the conservatory building, long hallways stretched between the
now-disused practice rooms, the jaundiced light from outside filtering through
the high, filthy windows at opposite ends of the hall. Shadows and darkness
obscured the small rooms, formerly used for instrumental practice, now empty,
and their floors were covered with years of dirt and dust. The petite form
of Crimson Flare moved in and out of the shadows along the hallway of the
second floor, approaching the end of the corridor where a stairwell led to
the top floor. As she crossed the dimly lit hallway, the faint light from
outside glittered off the sequins of her costume. For a brief moment the
light glimmered up onto her face, and the distraction slowed her movement
just a little; as she glided into a niche, pressing her well-toned body between
a wall and some doorless lockers, she sensed the tactile stimulation of her
uniform against her body. She had often enjoyed the tightness of her costume
against her body, the drama of its brilliance, and the effect that uniform
had on the light that struck her. Even in this setting, she enjoyed feeling
it against her naked skin beneath; she breathed in deeply so as to feel the
spandex press tautly against her breasts, her back, her ribs, and her shoulders.
There was no question about it, there was no other feeling in the world like
it: She felt genuinely sexy when she put on this costume. Suddenly she sensed
its tautness running between across and around her hips and her ass, pressing
against her crotch, against her hidden sex. Briefly, she felt something surge
through her thighs, forcing her to pause before her dash across the hall
toward the stairwell.
Crimson Flare brought one glove-covered hand up to her shoulder, as though
brushing away a bothersome insect. But what she really wanted to do was to
experience the sensation of satin against bare skin. For some reason, there
was now a demand in her, a requirement for sensual contact. The smoothness
of the satin against her skin was simply another reminder of the sensuality,
the sexually-charged nature of her garb. Peering through the vinyl mask,
she stared for a moment at the shimmering vision of light that formed an
aura around her thighs, in part raised by the colourless tights that enveloped
them. Suddenly the very tightness of her costume consumed her, overwhelmed
her senses, so that for just that moment she found it hard to breathe.
What is happening to me? she thought. Shaking her head in an effort to clear
it, she refocused her attention on the doorway mere feet in front of her.
Up the next flight of stairs, she knew, was the captive Nancy, whose rescue
she had undertaken.
In an hour the conservatory would be filled with the men—slavers, criminals
of all sorts—who had already placed bids on the redhead. If Nancy were
to be removed from the premises without forcing a confrontation with many
of the region’s leading crime figures, Crimson had to push on.
Crimson Flare stepped toward the exit a bit unsteadily. She didn’t move
with the same grace with which she had approached the building, nor with
the same confident ease that carried her from the first floor to the second
floor. The heroine wanted to use her speed to cross the open distance to
the enclosed stairwell, but instead she stumbled, her ankle twisting on the
debris left in her path. It wasn’t painful, but it was a distraction.
She climbed the stairs quietly, as quickly as she could. The crimson-clad
avenger was certain there must be a sentry guarding a prize so valuable
as this one was, but thus far, none had been sighted. As she neared the top
of the final flight of stairs between herself and her goal, Crimson could
hear the distant moaning of the beaten redhead.
As the masked Maid of Mitropoulos neared the third-floor landing, she saw
illumination faintly lightening the building’s dark corners. This level
appeared better lit than the lower floors of the old building. Evidently,
Ape had had some temporary lamps installed for the auction later. Climbing
to the top of the stairs, sure enough, she saw a series of lights projecting
beams at floor level down the hall, marking her path to Nancy. These lamps
had the advantage of being directional, so that the top floor of the building,
from outside, still looked unused and inconspicuous. What she saw from the
stairwell was light reflected from the walls and flooring of the corridor.
In addition, someone had evidently swept down the passageway, removing dirt
and rubbish, making the site of the sale at least somewhat more attractive.
It was when she was about to enter the hallway that she finally saw the guards
she had been looking for. There were two of them, standing at the far end
of the building, one of them still holding the broom used to clean the trash
from the passage that was before her. The two men, wearing the mixed colours
of the Normans and Savoyards that Ape had adopted as his own, were talking
quietly; one laughed at something the other said.
Readying herself for combat, the Champion of Women forgot completely the
erotic fantasies that had gripped her only moments before. Rather than exulting
in her costume’s sensuality, she now felt confidence in her strength
and her speed as she anticipated battle. She slipped unnoticed into the
passageway, the sentries’ conversation taking all of their attention.
Then the heroine measured the distance to her targets, estimating the time
she would need to cover the twenty-five yards to the far end of the hallway.
Her speed would reduce the time the patrol would have to react to her attack
to mere seconds. Her strength would put them out of action with a single
blow apiece. Then, it was simply a matter of getting through the door beyond
them to retrieve her Titian-haired object.
It was over in less than ten seconds. The crimson-costumed Maid opened the
door and looked in on the battered form of the woman who had so tormented
her. The room was bare except for the X-frame to which Nancy was bound. Two
sides of the corner room were bare brick. Whole sections of the mortar that
had originally secured the integrity of the wall were gone, and the levels
of brick seemed to hang together only by the wish of some long-dead architect.
Neither of those walls had a window to the outside, so that the bare bulbs
that hung from the ceiling provided a cold illumination. The ceiling arched
upwards toward the centre of the building, supported by dark wooden beams
that looked like the prows of some ancient ships. The other two walls had
been stripped so that the joists and studs were visible, forming a wooden
skeleton against a yellowing background of ancient sheetrock.
Nancy was secured to the frame at her wrists and ankles. Her blue denim jacket
hung open, revealing a tattered white shirt which had also been torn off
her. Her ample, freckled mammaries were still red from the mistreatment that
had been inflicted upon them. There was no sign of a bra. Her denim jeans
had been secured around her waist, though the three-inch belt looped that
through them hung open. The jeans clung to her legs like a second skin. She
was wearing below-the-knee purple velvet boots into which the jeans had been
pushed, highlighting her shapely calves.
Her head hung down toward her breasts, her arms stretched tautly upward on
either side. Her face was obscured behind the long, curly red hair. Though
her ankles were also secured to the frame, her legs offered no support. She
hung from her wrists, her body’s weight turning her hands white. Crimson
Flare took a moment to gaze at this woman who had recently almost broken
her will. Quietly, she stepped toward the pathetic figure, her leather boots
making almost no sound on the bare wooden floor. ‘Come on, Nancy. I’ve
got to get you out of here.
The avenger pulled the ropes from her ankles in a moment, and then stretched
her gloved hand upwards to tear away the bindings from Nancy’s wrists
at the same time that her small form steadied the awkward figure that leaned
heavily on her. When the captive’s hands had been freed and they fell
heavily downward, Crimson Flare heard a light chuckling from just above her
head. ‘What…?’ The heroine released her hold on the denim-clad
figure and took a step back. She stared at a sight she could not
comprehend.
Nancy’s face was a bloodied mess. Dried blood scarred the corner of
her left eye and the left corner of her mouth. Both nostrils showed clear
signs of a serious bloodletting. Aside from the dried streams of blood, more
blood had been smeared over the right side of her head, mingling with her
hair, turning it a darker shade of red. Bruises and cuts festered along her
jaw line and around her left ear. It was a face that had suffered a terrible
beating.
Nancy was smiling, though the agony of doing so turned it into a grimace.
As she opened her mouth to speak, Crimson Flare saw that one of her teeth
had been knocked out. Her mouth aching, Nancy whispered harshly, still chuckling,
‘Gotcha, Crimson Slut!’
The masked Champion of Women stood back from her nemesis, placing her hands
on her hips, still shocked at the bloodied, smiling countenance that faced
her. Nancy vigorously nodded her head and Crimson Flare felt wedges of pain
crash against her head. Again and again, the physical sensations of throbbing
waves of agony tore into her head from she knew not where. It was the most
severe pain she had ever felt in her life. The helpless heroine wanted to
reach her enemy, and she staggered forward, but took only one step before
she felt her knees collapse under her. The room was spinning before her eyes;
washing across her vision came swells of red waves. Finally, unable to control
her body, she stared at the laughing redhead before her as she crashed to
the floor.
The powerless avenger lay on the floor, disoriented by whatever it was that
had felled her; she tried to turn her body, tried to regain control over
it. Crimson Flare was looking for Nancy or, failing that, looking for the
source of her torture. But each time she felt some measure of command over
her unresponsive body, another wave of torment washed over her, cutting it
short; her muscles twitched spastically and her body twisted wildly, painfully.
Crimson Flare felt ill; she felt like she was being turned inside out; none
of her muscles responded to the commands her brain sent out.
Eventually her hands found the floor, and she pushed herself upward, eventually
getting to her knees. The Maid of Mitropoulos still swayed uncontrollably,
and, as she stared at her satin gloves pressing against the bare floor, she
tried to regain her equilibrium. If only the room would stay still long enough
to stand up, she thought. Instead, a fresh wave of agony smashed her back
to the floor. She felt her pulse thundering inside her head.
Now her arms were at her sides as she lay on her
stomach. She tried to turn her
head in search of her enemy, but failed. Then, finally, as still another
roaring crest of torment smashed into her, the heroine screamed in pain.
Her black leather boots began kicking, ineffectually pounding the floor.
She squeezed her eyes shut in her agony, trying to drive out the anguish
that had dragged her down, forcing tears to roll across her black vinyl mask
and down her cheek. Doggedly, she tried to get her hands under her, but she
merely floundered helplessly. The cries of pain issuing from the defeated
woman became weaker and weaker. As the defeated Champion of Women finally
passed out, the last thing she thought was, Nancy’s trap has
succeeded!
Crimson Flare had been felled by a larger and more advanced form of a device
she had encountered in the hands of an old adversary, a master thief known
simply as Gloria. As part of robbery, Gloria had made off with something
called the Nemissesitor. Developed
as part of a highly secret Government program, it had the effect of
de-activating the internal gyroscope in the inner ear. Because of her especially
high level of sensitivity and her heightened capacities to use her physical
body, it was like using a sledgehammer of this sensitive balancing mechanism
of the superheroine, so that her equilibrium was torn away from her. On this
powerful woman, to have so critical an element ripped from her was particularly
painful. The torment created by the more powerful version of this device
resulted in Crimson’s eventual loss of consciousness.
The defeated Champion of Women lay unconscious on the floor; even her breathing
was laboured, each breath coming in a harsh gasp. Nancy stared down on the
twisted form. She reached up under her long hair and pulled plugs from her
ears, dropping them next to the fallen avenger. She continued to chuckle
as she stared at the Maiden of Mitropoulos, still struggling to breathe.
Then, producing a rope, she stooped, pulling the unresisting wrists of the
sequined heroine behind her back. She wound the rope between her wrists,
securing them tightly together, and stealing the superheroine’s strength.
When she was through, she again stood, still smiling. ‘Poor, dear Crimson
Flare,’ she said with infinite sadness. ‘What will you do
now?’
*****
Crimson Flare was still unconscious an hour later. Her laboured breathing
was only slightly easier now. By this time, she had been bound securely,
her wrists still tied behind her back. She was flat on her stomach with ropes
binding her upper arms as well, pulling them almost together at the elbows.
There was also a rope looped around her thighs, just above her knees, pulling
them tightly together, and another at her ankles, holding her shiny black
leather boots fast. The highly polished boots reflected the lights from the
ceiling brilliantly. The heroine’s uniform caught and reflected the
same lights in a glittering show that seemed out of place at this moment.
Her knees were bent, pulling her calves up behind her, and still another
rope secured the heroine’s bound ankles to the restraints that shackled
her upper arms, so that her upper body was lifted some inches off the
floor. The hog-tie was made even more painful
by a crotchrope that tied a rope around her waist and crotch and connected
to Crimson’s bound wrists. Once conscious, she would not be able to
move her legs without increasing the tension on her elbows, and she could
not pull her wrists away from her body without pulling the crotchrope deeper
into her sex. It was a truly insidious bondage that Ape and Nancy had engineered
for the powerless Champion of Women. Crimson Flare’s highly-toned body
had been stretched to its breaking point, but, still unconscious, her masked
face slumped toward the floor, and she was as yet unaware of the plans of
her enemies.
Ape towered above the powerless heroine and next to him stood the denim-clad
redhead, her face now washed clean of the blood smears and streaks that had
taken Crimson Flare aback during her ‘rescue.’ Also in the room
were two henchmen, who now simply stood on opposite sides of the door. In
the short time they had had, barely four days, Nancy and her hulking brute
friend had pulled together an intricate trap, a trap they had now successfully
sprung. They intended that no one should ruin the finale they had planned
by coming to the aid of the helpless Maiden of Mitropoulos.
A soft, exquisite moan escaped the ruby lips of the prisoner. Slowly, her
eyes fluttered open behind her black vinyl mask. She struggled to see what
was around her, blinking her eyes, turning her head at first slowly, then
almost wildly as her dilemma became clear.
‘Welcome back to the world of the living, Crimson Slut,’ gloated
Nancy. ‘I trust you slept well.’
The heroine did not respond to the taunt as she tried to reorient herself.
As awareness returned, she began to struggle to free her claw and begin sawing
away at the bonds that secured her wrists. She knew that once they had been
removed, her strength would return and allow her to free herself from the
other fetters. She also tried, with great difficulty, to maintain her dignity
in the face of her ordeal. The bonds at her wrists may have removed her great
strength, but she was not going to be intimidated and humiliated by her
captors.
‘Look at her, Ape,’ Nancy said, laughing. ‘The great Crimson
Flare, heroine of Mitropoulos, fighter for goodness and truth. Doesn’t
look so tough now, does she?’ She reached down and slipped off the black
vinyl cowl that covered Crimson’s head, revealing her short, dark brown
hair. She then brushed her other hand through the short hair, seeming to
enjoy both the sensuality of the contact and the diminution of her enemy
to the status of a pet. ‘Yes, she’s nothing now.
‘Nothing but a little sex kitten, dying to have someone push his meat
into her hungry toit. Watch her ass, Ape, she’s trying to push that
crotchrope in deep.’
Crimson heard Nancy and immediately understood that she believed that the
Champion was still in the grip of her sexual weakness; Nancy believed that
binding the superheroine unleashed pent-up desires for sex. Crimson Flare
understood that, at this moment, she had only one small advantage against
her adversaries.
But her hips were grinding, circling, trying to push the rope running
between her legs and lips, far into her. It was happening without any awareness
on her part. But consciously, she concentrated on her right hand, where the
claw was just beginning to make contact with the nearest strand of rope.
Nearby, however, the twisting and angling of her hands, wrists, and, because
of the rope tying her wrists to the crotchrope, her hips had created a response
in the captive heroine’s sex: She was beginning to get wet. The rubbing
of the crotchrope across her clit and vagina became an easy and steady motion,
back and forth, around and around. The Maid of Mitropoulos did not consciously
feel the stimulation, but her sex responded to the teasing, thrilling movement
of the rope across her crimson uniform.
Hypnotised by the glorious rhythm of Crimson Flare’s perfectly curved
ass, Ape simply stared at the glittering spectacle. He had never seen anything
like it, so finely muscled, so perfectly rounded; but the muscles seemed
to quiver beneath the skin-tight costume; the thighs, drawn so taut, encased
in the colourless tights, seemed to tremble in anticipation of some delicacy
promised by a small deepening of colour in her crotch. As he stared at the
struggling Champion of Women, his simple mind focused on one thought: I want
to fuck her.
Crimson Flare looked up at her antagonists, the agony of her condition creeping
into her eyes. ‘You can rest assured,’ she said slowly, struggling
to get the words out, ‘that you won’t get away with this. I will
escape your nefarious designs.’
Ape stared at the bruised face that had served as bait to secure the now-trapped
avenger. ‘Huh?’
Quickly, the smiling Nancy replied, ‘I don’t think I ever knew
anyone who used “nefarious” in a sentence.’
Curling her body so that she could stare up at her captors, and with the
result that Ape’s fixated gaze was drawn again to her twisting,
sequin-covered ass, Crimson Flare defied the criminals. ‘Now that you
have captured me,’ she said—and as she spoke she occasionally had
difficulty getting the words out—‘what do you intend to do with
me? I suppose…’ she paused, ‘like… so many, you intend
to do away with me and then carry out… your scheme for power.’
Even as she made these accusations, the Champion of Mitropoulos was only
too well aware of the bondage that had placed her in her position of weakness;
but she continued to use the claw to cut away at her bonds. ‘Well, you
may be sure that I will not simply give in….’ Here the masked Maiden
drew a breath as she felt something surge through her; it was weakness, to
be sure, caused by the ropes binding her wrists, but also… what? She
was aware of her vulnerability, but she had not forgotten the more carnal
urges that had swept across her body with a similar response only recently.
She continued, fighting to maintain her composure, ‘…and that when
I escape…, and I will, I will hunt you down and bring you to justice.’
By this time, the fear had disappeared from her eyes and she was staring
directly and defiantly at Nancy.
‘Very pretty. And so idealistic.’ Nancy drew closer to Ape, who
barely noticed the presence of the redhead. ‘What do we want, Ape?’
She looked at him, but he was mesmerized by the glittering crimson form in
front of him. Quickly continuing, she said, ‘We want money and power.
You were preventing us from doing that. Until now, that is.’ To try
to win back Ape’s attention, she placed her arms around his waist, clasping
her hands, pressing the side of her face against his chest. ‘You see,
Crimson Slut, we know a great deal about you: Your friends, your strengths,
and, most importantly right now, your weaknesses. Before you captured her
and sent her to prison, Gloria put out a report on something called the
Nemissesitor. I think… you
remember it?’
The helpless heroine stopped her efforts at cutting her bonds. The Nemissesitor?
Yes, she remembered it. She remembered the pain it inflicted on her. She
remembered because it felt like something was being ripped out of her head
whenever Gloria had used it against her, and then had followed the dizziness
and collapse. The same nausea and torture that she had felt when she had
been captured. So
that was what it was!
‘A newer version of that same
device will keep you exactly where you are. It’s close enough to ensure
that you will
not
escape, despite your claims, and will tame you whenever we think it necessary.
Right, Ape?’
Ape merely grunted and nodded.
Crimson realised that, so long as she was in this room, she could be brought
to her knees by the power of the Nemissesitor. Even if she were free of her
bonds, her strength could not overcome that kind of agony.
Nancy continued, ‘And such a problem with ropes. It must be a very difficult
situation for you, to lose your strength when your wrists are bound. I
don’t suppose you’d tell me if you also lost your strength when
handcuffed?’ she queried, smiling. Here she freed herself from the huge
criminal next to her and, reaching down to her powerless prisoner, she tugged
on one of the ropes looping around the heroine’s upper arms. Crimson
Flare, winced. ‘Ahhh, yes. You do feel pain when your strength is
gone.
‘But that still leaves the rest of our plan.’ By this time Nancy
didn’t care that Ape was utterly absorbed in the powerless captive before
him. Crimson Flare would soon be gone, dead—or worse—and Ape would
have to come back to her. Now,
this was her moment of triumph over the slut, this whore who threatened
her ascendancy in Mitropoulos. This was the moment she had been waiting for
and her victory was to be savoured. ‘And you were not quite right a
moment ago. Yes, we do intend, as you put it, to do away with you, but it
will have a particular purpose at a particular time. Oh, I
wanted
to kill you; I wanted to watch you die slowly and painfully. But that changed
as we planned this trap. And it was Ape who came up with the better idea.’
Ape smiled at the mention of his name in such glowing terms by his partner.
He even seemed to blush.
‘Ape reminded me that our original goal was not only to kill you, but
also to destroy your reputation. And he showed me in the paper that the police
have not yet acknowledged anyone as the mastermind behind the current crime
wave.’ Crimson Flare’s spirit dropped when she heard that. She
knew it to be true. Though she had told people on the force and at the
Mitropoulos Daily Plaudit about
Ape’s return, evidently it had not been taken seriously, or it had not
yet reached the ears of those in charge.
‘So we have decided that we want to keep you very much alive. Powerless,
but alive.’ As his contribution was spelled out, Ape stood more erect,
beaming now, and sidled closer to the redhead.
‘When the next wave of crimes hits Mitropoulos, we’ve decided,
the person behind the criminal activity will be seen. And it will be revealed
to be… Crimson Flare.’ Ape started giggling uncontrollably, even
jumping up and down in an effort to control his laughter.
The superheroine stared at the pair of criminals before her. How were they
going to accomplish this?
‘We already have some of your costume, superheroine. This
cowl,’—here she held up the black vinyl headpiece she had snatched
from the helpless avenger moments earlier—‘and we have our own
versions of the black boots, tights, gloves and even the mask. All we need
is that rather unique uniform that you wear. Now, can you imagine where we
might obtain that?’ As Crimson Flare struggled anew against her bonds,
the claw continuing its slow progress through the first strand, both Nancy
and Ape began to laugh, first with fiendish glee, then more
uncontrollably.
Nancy stooped beside the helpless avenger. Her fingers reached under the
skin-tight costume at her crotch, so that she stroked her covered sex. ‘We
have to relieve you of this. But don’t worry; it’ll be put to good
use. Who knows?’ she laughed again. ‘Maybe it’ll help you
begin a whole new career.’ In spite of the loss of her strength, the
violence of Crimson Flare’s struggles increased
markedly.
‘Obviously, you’re not going to co-operate in this. Therefore,
you’ll have to be calmed again.’ Turning to the two young men standing
by the door, she rose and turned her back on the crimson Champion. ‘Morly!
Ed! The Nemissesitor!’ The two thugs in gang colours literally leaped
for the door. Ape produced a crimson ballgag.
‘I hope you appreciate that this is colour-co-ordinated,’ Nancy
said without looking back. ‘It was quite difficult to find just the
right shade.’
‘NO! NO!!’ yelled Crimson Flare, throwing her head about,
exhausting herself in the process. ‘I won’t let you! YOU
CAN’T!! THIS IS
MONSTROUS!!!’
Ape knelt next to the struggling heroine and easily slipped the ballgag into
her mouth, his strength overcoming her resistance with no trouble. Despite
the swinging of Crimson Flare’s head in the forlorn effort to avoid
the gag, it was soon secured on her head. Once done, the two criminals walked
together toward the exit.
Crimson Flare’s eyes were wide behind her mask, showing unchecked fear.
She had even stopped the claw’s activity, so distraught was she. The
heroine knew she had been defeated, and she now feared the destruction of
her reputation. But her wrists were bound with strong ropes, removing her
great strength. Now she was a weak young woman, certainly no match for any
of the villains before her. The resistance she had put up to the gagging
had used most of the strength she had left. Crimson Flare was a beaten
heroine.
‘That should keep you quiet while we finish our preparations for your
humiliation,’ Nancy gloated. She smiled as she stood before the door.
She seemed to sense Crimson Flare’s frailty.
‘Do we really need to use the Nemissesitor on you, superheroine? Maybe
not, but it’s best to be safe.’ She and Ape stepped from the
room.
Crimson Flare whimpered softly as she lay on her stomach, alone in the room.
She was utterly helpless in the face of this torture. She could only wait
for the first wave of pain to hit her, to again drag her down. She only looked
forward to the respite of unconsciousness.
As the Nemissesitor’s torture roared through her body, she sagged in
agony, trying to find a reprieve that wasn’t there.
Her scream was very brief.
*****
When consciousness returned, Crimson Flare had no idea whether hours
or days had passed. However, what Nancy had promised had, in fact, occurred.
She still wore her black vinyl mask, and red satin gloves stretched up to
her elbows. Her highly polished black leather boots were in place, and her
most intimate area was still covered by her colourless tights. But her sequined
crimson-and-gold uniform, the most recognisable symbol of the heroine, was
gone. Her black leather belt and holster, she saw, was discarded a few feet
away. The holster was empty. Her hands were tied behind her back, and still
secured at the waist to a tight crotchrope. The other burdensome bonds had
been removed.
And the residue of pain was still with her.
She pulled at the ropes; then the determined heroine began to maneuver her
claw into position to again attempt to cut through these new bindings. With
her wrists secured to her waist, the effort wore her down. But she soon felt
the metal blade find the strands of rope. She was resolute in her effort.
She knew she was no longer a superheroine. And she knew that so long as she
was bound she could no longer defend Mitropoulos.
She stopped in her exertions, weakened by the effort. Drool flowed around
the crimson ballgag that was still in her mouth and rolled down her chin.
From her chin it dripped onto the floor. She rocked slowly, trying to find
the resources to continue her fight for freedom. She realised that she was
too tired to even get to her feet.
Suddenly, she felt the familiar agony that came from the
Nemissesitor. It was being turned
on again! The initial pain had conditioned her to respond with fear. She
remembered that she had had the inside of her head painfully rattled by the
device many times since her trial had begun. How many times had she returned
to consciousness, only to be felled again quickly by this destructive device?
How long had her costume been gone? Even before the searing torture shattered
her, she screamed and cried, at the same time. Then she was
still.
Watching on the monitor in an adjoining room, Nancy smiled. Crimson Flare
was broken. She pulled in for a close-up of the fallen heroine, as she lay,
unconscious, on the bare wooden floor, debris clinging now to her petite
form. She looked intently into that beautiful face, made all the more mysterious
by the mask which protected her identity. The hate in her chest was now joined
by a surging in her groin at the thought of taking this Champion of Women.
The Dorothy Hamill-hairstyle had become a glistening, matted mess, only vaguely
reminiscent of the original. Her small, round breasts were visible as she
lay on her side, hands bound behind, and the perspiration that covered them
heightened the sensuality of the moment. Crimson Flare’s body glistened
with sweat and her head lolled lazily back and forth in unconscious torment.
The helplessness of this powerful woman increased Nancy’s desire. She
would take the innocence of this wondrous female before she was through with
her.
*****
Each time Crimson Flare regained consciousness, she saw the same bare bulbs
hanging from the ceiling and the same bare walls. Both the sameness of her
surroundings and the sameness of her powerlessness began to tear away at
her morale. And, after a few moments of consciousness, a by-now-familar rising
level of pain tore away at her as the
Nemissesitor’s effects violently
threw Crimson Flare into a painful oblivion. Each time the agony began, she
felt her heroic reserves collapse. For two days this torture had gone on.
Now, as she regained consciousness again, the Maid of Mitropoulos sought
to clear the cobwebs from her brain, hoping for more time, maybe a chance
to escape. While she had been unconscious this time, she noticed, the ballgag
had been removed. Her wrists were still bound and secured to the crotchrope
around her middle, but now her wrists were in front of her. While she had
been unconscious, they had untied her wrists! Her body had had a small
opportunity to restore its strength.
Through blurry eyes, the Champion of Women watched as the door opened and
Nancy entered. She was alone. Her smile unnerved the beautiful
superheroine.
‘Do you know what you’ve been doing for the last two days, Crimson
Slut?’ she asked. ‘So far you have broken into a safe at the MicroWeb
Computer Company, thanks to your baton—and you were caught on their
surveillance cameras—, stolen electronic equipment being produced under
government contract at Pressley Software—the security guard caught sight
of you leaving—, and, this afternoon, in broad daylight, you and your
cohorts robbed an armoured car of $500,000. Not bad for just two days. But,
as the media are now reporting, the criminal mastermind’s—that
is, your—identity has been revealed. Perhaps you’d like to see
what the TV news is saying about you.’ The redhead was grinning broadly,
her bruises fainter and surely less painful now.
She turned, and Ape and the usual two minions rolled in a TV set. They placed
it in front of the prone crimefightress and turned it on.
When the picture appeared, Crimson saw a familiar talking head, Jan Thomas
of WITV News. In the upper corner of the screen was a photograph of Crimson
Flare.
‘…and no one was injured in the robbery. Police have now confirmed
that the identity of the criminal behind the recent wave of robberies here
in Mitropoulos the last few weeks is in fact Crimson Flare, formerly believed
to have been an unpaid police auxiliary. Mitropoulos police have released
this photograph taken from a security camera at MircoWeb, showing the former
Champion of Justice clearly.’ The picture was a bit dark, and Crimson
Flare was in the rear and moving, but there was no mistaking that it was
she. ‘We go to Lori Feidt for a reaction to this
story.’
The blonde reporter was standing in the offices of the
Daily
Plaudit. As the camera pulled
back, Maria Blakeman, wearing her civilian clothing, was revealed as waiting
for an interview with the TV reporter.
‘Maria Blakeman has been one of Crimson Flare’s staunchest supporters
ever since her name was released by the police department—who is Ms.
Blakeman’s employer—in connection with these crimes. Maria, how
do you respond to the charges made today, naming Crimson Flare as
Mitropoulos’ most wanted criminal?’
Maria was unmoved as she began speaking, but Crimson Flare recognised that
she was trying to keep her emotions in check. ‘I don’t believe
it for a minute, Lori. First of all, there’s Crimson Flare’s history.
For almost two years, she’s been working hard with the police to make
Mitropoulos safer and crime-free. Then, there’s the personal level.
While I’ve only met her once or twice, and I’m sure others know
her much better, what I do know is that she’s not a criminal. She’s
just too honest and too un-chic to do something like this. And lastly,
there’s the reported sightings. On the one hand they’re too convenient.
On the other, they’re too fleeting. Up until the last two days, these
crimes were meticulously planned down to the last detail. There were no
witnesses, no evidence. It’s not too much to think that these sightings
were just part of a plan.’
‘Then who do you think was sighted at these crime scenes these last
two days, Maria?’
Maria became defensive now. ‘It’s very easy to get a copy of the
costume at almost any novelty shop, or to make it
yourself.’
‘But the perpetrator looked exactly like Crimson Flare, Maria. Do you
really think someone could be made to look that much like
her?’
Maria was silent for a moment. ‘It wasn’t her,’ she said
doggedly.
Lori threw the story back to Jan, who followed the police line, explaining
what the police hoped they could do, but cautioned the public to avoid
confronting the superheroine-turned-supercriminal. ‘She is known to
have tremendous strength, and is believed to be impervious to harm. The public
is warned not to confront the criminal,’ Jan closed the
story.
Nancy turned the TV off. Crimson Flare felt totally helpless. Her body ached
from the repeated attacks by the Nemissesitor’s power, and her still-bound
wrists prevented her from using her strength to recuperate.
‘So, now, what of you, Crimson Slut? What happens
next?’
Through her powerlessness, the battered heroine asked Nancy, ‘H-how
did you do it? Where—where did you f-find someone who looked so much
like me?’ Exhausted, she simply lay on the floor. Nancy saw it as simply
another sign of the Champion’s defeat.
‘It was all done with mirrors, my dear superheroine. Or, as they would
say now, Special Effects.’ She couldn’t help smiling now.
‘Computer-generated images, projectors, mirrors, holograms. You can’t
believe your eyes anymore.’
‘But wh-why? Why are you doing this… to me?’
‘To end your career. To teach a lesson to you and all others like you.
To get revenge for what you tried to do to me. And for all the benefits that
will come my way when there are no more superheroines in their tight little
costumes, showing their wares to dumb guys like Ape; so that I can have the
good life that I deserve.’
She turned to the three men who were standing near the TV. ‘Ape! Morly!
Ed!’
The three came forward and stood circling the helpless Crimson Flare. The
one in front of her was holding her uniform. ‘We needed the costume
to complete your fabrication. We entered its details into the computer, along
with the other parts of this outfit. Then we created a model with your, uh,
specifications,’ here she smiled broadly again, ‘and activated
it with a program that my man Ed developed. After that it was just a matter
of projecting the image into the scene of the crime, wherever Morly, Ape,
and Ed were taking care of business. I also get a little bit more revenge
by having you like that,’ she gestured at Crimson Flare’s naked
body, ‘and photographing and videotaping you. Ape gets copies for his
private collection.’ She smiled at the huge criminal. ‘He’s
found them very stimulating so far.
‘The evidence of your defeat will be available when we’re through
with you here. The police will get evidence that your criminal career is
ended, and CRIMNET will get the videos and photos.’ Walking toward the
door, she said over her shoulder, ‘Ape, Ed, and Morly will further your
humiliation before we are finished with you.’ Nancy laughed
acidly.
Crimson again started. What did Nancy have in mind? But she was simply too
weak to even make an effort against her bonds.
Nancy exited the room and, for the first time, Ape’s rumbling voice
gave an order to his minions. ‘Pick her up!’
The two gang members, Ed and Morly, reached down and roughly pulled the
unresisting woman to her feet. As she stood before Ape, masked but naked
to her waist, her legs tingled as blood began circulating in them for the
first time in—what?—days, perhaps. Their large hands enclosed her
upper arms, holding the petite Champion firmly in place. Her gloved hands
were still bound and tied to the crotchrope that wrapped around her waist
and across her most intimate area. In the suffering she had endured the last
two days, Crimson Flare had not resumed her quest for freedom with her hidden
claw. The disorientation and battering of her body and mind had left her
neither the opportunity nor the inclination to seek escape. Even now, as
she realised that she was powerless in the hands of her enemies, she was
too weak to escape. The days of bondage and multiple doses of the Nemissesitor,
not to mention the lack of food, had all taken their toll on the Female Fury.
Crimson Flare was too weak to resist, and this weakness was apparent in her
shaky legs, which barely supported her.
‘Bring her over here!’ Ape ordered. Morly and Ed rushed the masked
Champion to where the hulking figure waited. Ape stared and
grinned.
Before anyone could think, one of Ape’s massive fists crashed into Crimson
Flare’s bared middle, driving deftly between her locked forearms, forcing
all the air from her body. She groaned loudly, and coughed, trying to get
her wind back. ‘That’s for some of the money you cost me!’
he said quietly. Then he hit her again. The groan was softer but longer this
time. The Masked Maiden’s legs no longer supported her at all. The only
reason she was upright before her powerful antagonist was because of Ed and
Morly’s grip on her arms. This also left her body open to the unconscionable
and devastating beating Ape now leveled against the unresisting Champion
of Women. Blow after blow plunged deep into her stomach; the restraining
grip of Ed and Morly did not allow her to avoid the punches nor did they
permit the devastated heroine to relieve the pain. She groaned as each time
Ape’s massive fist smashed into her.
After many blows to her solar plexus, her ribs, and even her chest, Ape turned
his attention to her beautiful face. His immense fist crashed into the side
of her face, again and again twisting her head obscenely on her neck, eliciting
a piteous moan from the powerless
avenger. When her body sagged
in the grip of his henchmen, Ape gripped her short hair and pulled her face
up toward his. ‘Do you know how much money you cost me?’ He released
her, took a step back, and backhanded the defeated Champion of
Women.
Barely conscious, Crimson Flare moaned weakly, unaware that her ordeal was
only beginning. She tried to find some way out of the pain. But before she
knew what was happening another blow blasted the side of her face. She slumped
in the arms of the two men who held her, unable to stand.
Yet again, a blow struck the other side of her face and again her weak cry
of anguish issued from deep inside her. Crimson Flare tried to heave a painful
breath, trying to regain some of her senses. But she was still too weak.
She couldn’t even hold her head up. Blotches of multi-coloured light
sprinkled her vision as more blows smashed against the sides of her head.
Crimson Flare’s beating seemed unending, as the viciousness and fury
of her huge opponent allowed him to continue to lash away at the naked,
unresisting heroine.
‘Let her go!’ Ape ordered. When Morly and Ed had done this, Crimson
Flare simply dropped to the floor. She lay for a moment on her bare stomach,
trying to find any strength to rise and face her tormentor.
Above her, Ape, Ed, and Morly watched her slowly struggle to her knees.
‘What’s wrong, Crimson Flare?’ Ape asked, venom dripping from
the question.
Crimson Flare, her head still spinning from the attack she had just endured,
heard the sneer. She gathered herself to try to raise herself and face her
antagonists, but with her hands bound and her overwhelming weakness, she
could only get herself to her knees. She sagged back on her haunches, unable
to get any further. She struggled to look up at Ape and there saw an evil
grin. The villain took a step back and delivered a sadistic side kick directly
into Crimson Flare’s face. The heroine who had conquered so many others
was lifted from the
loor, landing on her back many feet away. She moaned piteously as she tried
to get her breath back. She vainly tried again to rise. She watched, unable
to react, as the heavy boot this time smashed into her face again. She was
rolled viciously across the floor by the force of the impact, coming to rest
again on her back. Once again, she struggled but only managed to lift her
back from the floor. Ape’s heavy boot found her again, this time in
the ribs, and again she was thrown across the floor. Barely conscious, she
gazed upward on her back.
‘Not feeling your old self, eh, Crimson Slut?’ mocked the villain.
He drove the tip of his boot deep into her ribs again, drawing a pathetic
groan from the beaten woman. Finally, as if he knew another blow would end
his fun by taking the heroine to unconsciousness, Ape plopped himself down
on Crimson Flare’s hips, facing her. She groaned again as she bore his
full weight on her petite frame. The blows he now landed were not hard ones,
but humiliating. A series of open-handed slaps, nothing more, but one after
the other, forehand and backhand. After several moments of this, Ape rose
to his feet, grabbing the heroine’s short hair in his fist. The bound,
beaten Champion was simply unable to resist.
‘Put her there,’ he ordered, indicating three pegs near the brick
wall. Ed and Morly took the battered young woman from their boss, half-dragging
the poor prisoner to the place he had indicated. Once there, they simply
dropped her to the floor. She lay there, utterly exhausted, beaten, defenseless.
As she lay on her stomach, she felt Ed’s hands undoing the knot in the
crotchrope that sat in the small of her back, at the top of her
tights.
She felt her wrists separate from the crotchrope. Too tired to scream, she
winced in agony when it was then ripped from her, whipping finally between
her legs and across her now-tender sex. She was rolled onto her back, and
then Morly grabbed her short front hair, lifting her battered body into a
sitting position. He then crouched his muscular body in front of her and,
as if taking careful aim, he used his left arm to measure her. A hard straight
right soon followed, landing right on her temple and spinning the helpless
heroine to the floor, right in the midst of the three pegs Ape had indicated
earlier.
‘Tie her hands.’ Crimson Flare barely understood Ape’s order
as she tried to clear the haze from her mind. Morly and Ed quickly tied her
bound wrists to the single peg nearest the brick wall, taking the masked
Maiden to her back on the floor.
‘No,’ whispered Crimson Flare through her battered jaw, wriggling
now more frantically. She began to weakly kick her legs in a hysterical effort
to avoid what she knew must follow. ‘No!’ she shouted.
‘NNOOOO!!’
Ape produced a hypodermic containing a milky liquid. ‘Nancy didn’t
think you would co-operate with us, Crimson Slut. So she had this made up
to make you more willing.’ Having said this, he bent down and pressed
the needle into Crimson Flare’s bare upper arm.
As Ape rose to his feet, the captive heroine’s struggles were already
lessening. Her legs seemed to grow heavier and the frantic swinging of her
head became less rhythmic and regular. But she didn’t lose consciousness.
Her cries of anger and desperation grew softer, more slurred, less
discernable.
‘Are you ready, Crimson Flare?’ Ape laughed. ‘Look at yourself,
the once-mighty Crimson Flare, the Champion of Women. Defender of the Weak.
Flat as a pancake. Powerless to help yourself.’ He looked up at the
grinning Ed and Morly. ‘Strip her.’
Through swollen lips, she mumbled her resistance. ‘N-noo,’ she
said weakly.
The two henchmen greedily attacked the powerless Champion before them. They
simply tore away her colourless tights, revealing her dark brown bush, exposing
her round, perfect thighs. They tore away the synthetic material, leaving
ragged edges peeking out above her brilliantly polished black leather boots.
The boots, her gloves and her mask were the only parts of her uniform that
these men left to the heroine.
Crimson Flare tried to cry out, but the only sounds that emerged were slurred
and mumbled. With the helpless heroine now naked before them, Ed and Morly
tied her booted ankles to the remaining pegs embedded in the floor. She was
now secured, her wrists tied together and bound to a single peg near the
wall, her legs spread and her ankles tightly fixed to two more pegs; she
was powerless, helpless, before the three men.
They looked down on the superheroine; Ape saw the opportunity for utter revenge
on this bitch who had nearly brought his plans for power to an end. As he
stared at the helpless prisoner, he thought about how, in mere hours, she
would begin the process of the restoration of his name. Ed and Morly, for
their parts, looked hungrily at the masked vigilante, knowing that their
turn depended on the hulking figure between them, and how long he would need
with her.
In another part of the building, Nancy watched events on a TV monitor, drawing
the image of the captive closer to her, admiring her handiwork. Like Ape,
she envisioned the end of this episode as the beginning of her reign over
Mitropoulos crime.
Ape undid his belt and pulled open his pants. They slid down his muscular
legs and puddled on the floor. He easily stepped out of them and moved to
the inviting breach barely visible beneath the clipped dark brown hair at
Crimson Flare’s groin. Already his undersized manhood was stretching
to its full scope, reaching toward the dry honeypot to find salacious
satisfaction. Plunging between the superheroine’s spread legs, Ape pressed
himself hard into her, drawing a rumbling gasp from his throat and mournful
whine from his victim. But he didn’t care about the pain he inflicted
on her; this was his first retribution for her damned-near destruction of
his plans. As he closed his eyes and pulled his head, neck, and shoulders
upward in a strained arch, he saw Nancy in his mind’s
eye.
The redhead was calling him to her; fulfilling the promise she had made when
she allowed him to pummel her, a necessary part, she said, to ensure Crimson
Flare’s credulity when she stepped into their trap. She wouldn’t
even allow him to minister to her bruises and wounds; she said that any effort
to clean her up would detract from the scene and from Crimson Slut’s
willingness to believe.
His small manhood hardened and pushed as far into the heroine as it could.
He imagined Nancy holding him, kissing his prick, as she had done so often.
The tightness of the heroine and the dry resistance to his rape only served
to stimulate him further. He tightened, then spasmed, his hips thrusting
against the fixed body of his victim. He smiled as he saw Nancy beckon again.
Then he opened his eyes and looked into the masked face of Crimson Flare.
The agony of the rape was clear. ‘Ooohh, goo-ooo-odd,’ he heard
her whisper.
Fury overwhelmed Ape and he crashed one fist after another against the
heroine’s uncomprehending head and body. For Ape, it was settling a
not-so-old score with this bitch; but it was also disappointment at not having
his girl there. Nancy, he understood, would get him everything he had promised
her. She had the brains and the drive. True, he could come up with an occasional
idea (like the one of setting one more trap for the innocent Crimson Flare,
one she would only too readily fall into; and, as Nancy constantly reminded
him, of coming up with an alternative to merely killing her: Ape wanted this
cunt not merely battered, but broken, and not just for now, but forever).
But she figured out how to do it, and now he was
doing
the superheroine. Yeah, it seemed that if he stuck with Nancy, he would get
everything he promised her.
Rape at the hands of Ape Greystook did not take very long as such things
go, but it was always particularly brutal. Crimson Flare could not tell how
long it took, thanks to the delirium resulting from the drug Ape had introduced
into her system. But Ape seemed to take much more pleasure in a sadistic
brutalising of the bound Champion of Women. Not only had he enjoyed the sport
of kicking her helpless form around the room before the event, but even after
he had spent his wad, he pounded her beautiful face, enjoying the feeling
of crushing the soft flesh under the power of his blows. As a final enraged
touch, when the hulking criminal had finally withdrawn from the powerless
woman and raised himself from her, he drove his knee directly into her uncovered
pussy. The agony of this blow was so great that it pierced the drug-induced
reverie surrounding Crimson Flare, dragging a loud scream of anguish from
her battered body.
Once Ape stepped clear of his victim, Ed and Morly literally fell over one
another to get to her. Both clumsily pulled their pants down as they sought
to fulfill the fantasy of every male in Mitropoulos. One of them, already
sporting an erection, placed himself where Ape had been, between the
heroine’s trapped, spread legs. The other would satisfy himself by going
to his knees next to her head, eventually straddling her. It was he who struck
the first blow, directly into Crimson Flare’s jaw. Her head shot back
and up, striking the floor under the force of the blow. Crimson Flare was
momentarily dazed and, in the interim before she recovered some small portion
of her senses, both of the men began their abuse of the Guardian of Mitropoulos,
one pushing his fingers deep into her sex, rubbing her clit between thumb
and palm, the other mashing her small, round breasts, and even squeezing
her nipples. Crimson Flare, dragged by a combination of pain and the passage
of time back to an awareness of her situation, convulsed her petite form
in an effort to deny these men, but the weakness bred of bondage, her loss
of control because of the residue of the drug, and the combined strength
of her attackers ensured only her continued degradation. The penetration
of her private parts was quick and deep, much deeper than that effected by
Ape, and, because the rape did not allow the luxury of lubrication, painful.
The cries of suffering raised by her torture were neither loud nor long,
but the Champion was soon reduced to pleading for mercy from her
attackers.
‘Ooooohhh, goo-ooo-dd, pl-pleeease s-st-stoopp. Oooooohhh, ggoooddd,
pl-pleeease… make… it… stop.’ Her voice was pitifully
quiet after the beating she had received, and her words were slurred because
of the drugs and the swollen jaw. Her eyes were filled with tears and her
body quivered in fear and despair.
But her cry of anguish was quickly smothered by the penis that had been driven
all the way to the back of her throat. That organ sawed in and out of her,
and, while she may have been in part aware of her disgrace, she was no longer
capable of responding to it. Ed and Morly penetrated her, enjoying the fruits
of the defeat manipulated by Nancy and by Ape, and, like so many placed a
position of advantage over another, they merely reaped the profit. The howled,
they giggled, and they gloated as they misused the abject form of the Maiden
of Mitropoulos. The disgraced heroine had stopped her moaning, and now simply
lay in place.
‘That’s it, bitch, take it all,’ Ed screamed at
her.
‘Come on, you cunt,’ howled Morly. ‘You know what you’re
supposed to do.’
Both men pressed themselves as deep into the unresisting Champion as it was
possible for them to do. As they tensed their muscular bodies, trying to
withhold their sexual eruptions and to maintain their ecstasy, the hapless
heroine became their plaything. With her wrists bound and secured to the
peg near the brick wall, she was deprived of the strength she needed to defend
herself. As each man pressed into her, the crimson gloves merely flopped
against the hard wooden floor. The satin fingers that clung to her own like
a second skin, shimmering in the bare bulbs that lit the room, curled limply,
pointing heavenward, useless. Her arms were stretched to their full extent;
the flawless skin that shone with perspiration matched the shimmer of her
satin-covered forearms. The muscles on her upper arms languidly plopped against
the hard wood beneath them. The heroine’s masked face was buried in
the crotch of the man who now squatted over her, straddling her sweat-soaked
face and neck. He held tightly to her short hair; roughly, he drew her to
himself and carried her away again, and at the same time his own rhythmic
pelvic movements complimented this action, thrusting himself full to the
back of her throat, then almost completely removing himself from her. Behind
her mask, the deep green eyes of the Maid of Mitropoulos were nearly closed,
as exhaustion, depression, and the sheer physical beating she had endured
had all but driven consciousness from her.
Below, her shiny black leather boots were held immobile and spread by the
pegs to which they were secured. Her legs, stripped of the colourless tights
that were so recognisable as part of her uniform, simply lay, unmoving, spread,
on the dull floor. The tatters of her tights hung out from the tops of her
boots. The man who knelt between her superb but useless legs pushed himself
into her as far as he could. He reveled when he felt her clamp down on his
prick and hold him fast. His large hands gripped her hips and he pulled her
closer to himself, lifting her slightly from the floorboards. As he pressed
inward, his body swung dreamily left and right.
The sounds that came from the trio engaged in this small orgy reflected the
circumstances of the authors. Both of the men celebrated their triumph at
the same time they berated and humiliated their sex toy, the one above slapping
her head or tightening his grip on her short-cut hair; the one below howled,
animal-like, his conquest of the Champion of Women. The victim, almost unheard
in the tumult, moaned quietly, her throat gurgling as she struggled for
breath.
Almost simultaneously, the two men came. And when they did so, it was with
a force that lifted them and their prize from the hard wood floor, so that
when their lust was extinguished it was accompanied by a loud ‘plop!’
as Crimson Flare’s helpless body was forced back to the hard deck beneath
her.
‘Oh, yeah, sweetheart. Tell me you didn’t enjoy
that!’
Ed said as he leaned over the heroine, his words spit into her
face.
As Morly pulled himself free and he rose, he aimed still another kick into
the tender sex of the broken heroine trapped on the floor at his feet.
‘That’s what superheroines are for,’ he growled. ‘Just
remember it, bitch!’
As the three men walked away from the now-unmoving figure, their laughter
filled the room. None of them even glanced back at the heroic Maiden of
Mitropoulos, her face tear-stained, her ruby lips smeared with the cum of
one attacker; between her legs a small puddle of semen pooled at the angle
formed by her unmoving, bound legs, a surplus of the fluid injected by the
second assailant.
Unconscious now, the battered, drugged, and raped victim did not know that
know how much longer her ordeal would continue.
End of Chapter Eight
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome: contact the author at
marat1793@earthlink.net