Crimson Flare: Apes Grab for Power
by marat
Chapter Nine
Oh, god.
When Crimson Flare painfully opened her eyes, the ceiling above her spun
wildly. The drug that had at least in part shielded her from the pain she
had endured in her rape and beating was no longer protecting her.
Oh, god. The pain
The battered heroine tried to move, but her body refused to comply. Her jaw,
even though it was already healing, still felt swollen, and she could still
taste dried blood inside her mouth. Her bare torso, where Ape had kicked
her so viciously, ached with a throbbing agony. Her sex, ripped raw by the
double rape and pounded by the brutal kicks of her attackers, ached continuously
with a torment that was off the Richter Scale.
Oh, god
.
The beaten Maid of Mitropoulos again tried to move, but she discovered that
she could not. Her gloved wrists and booted ankles were still securely bound
to the pegs in the hardwood floor. And the simple effort to move sent jets
of pain shooting straight from the points of origin up her spine to her brain.
The Champion of Women just hurt too much to scream.
Oh, god, please
.
The masked beauty tried to get a sense of her surroundings. Taking a deep
breath, and wincing as a sharp jab penetrated her at the ribs, she recouped
her faculties: she could feel
what, besides the pain? She was naked.
The wood against her back and the cold air around her told her that. She
still had parts of her uniform in place: her gloves, her boots, and
yes, her mask. Her bound wrists reminded her that she had been stripped of
her strength as well.
Must
must find the claw; use it to cut the ropes.
Crimson Flare knew what she must do. She must cut herself free from her bonds.
That would reduce her anguish in addition to freeing her, she knew. As she
shifted her shoulders, trying to bare the claw at her right wrist, another
sharp pain shot through her ribs. The intensity of this pain was something
new to her. If she didnt know better, she thought, it might be that
Ape had broken one of her ribs. This was something the heroine thought was
impossible, though she didnt quite know why. Simply because of her
extraordinary strength, she believed that it was impossible to injure her
in this way. The severity of the agony that shot around her chest and up
her spine told her that she might be mistaken.
Oh, god. Please
make
the pain
stop.
As the throbbing around her chest diminished, a new, familiar pain tore at
her head.
Oh, god, NO! The
Nemissesitor!!
Agony reached new heights as the powerless, beaten womans body convulsed.
The sharp paroxysmal twisting of her torso renewed the throbbing across her
chest and pain piled upon pain until the hapless heroine finally lost
consciousness.
The gasping heroines quivering body filled the TV screen. Staring at
the scene, Nancy smiled. She would enjoy the innocence of this young woman,
and then she would serve her mistress.
*****
When she awoke, the battered avenger shook and then started, and she was
fully aware. The same bare bulbs illuminated the same bare room that was
by now so familiar. Her breathing immediately became faster and more ragged
as she anticipated the rage of the Nemissesitor tearing through her consciousness
still again. She felt fear grip her and tears welled up in her deep green
eyes. Oh, god, please, dont
.
Not through divine intervention, but rather the exhaustion of her tormentors,
Crimson Flares prayer was answered. Nancy slept in a room set up in
the basement, the TV monitor glowing brightly, shadows flecking across the
redheads form. Ed and Morly had been sent away and they were now enjoying
some well-deserved rest at the McLeod-Slaughter mansion.
Only Ape walked the halls of the old Conservatory. He mumbled under his breath
as he paced quickly past the row of practice rooms. Not angry, but rather
frustrated: frustrated by his lack of satisfaction in his attack on the masked
superheroine earlierhe had had the superbitch, but that wasnt
enough, somehow. Frustrated by Nancys apparent lack of concern beyond
getting him into a position of power; she seemed to care for him, but not
like he cared for her. Frustration at the lack of respect that was evident
in how his underlings spoke to him, and about him when they thought he
wasnt around. Frustration about the real respect he sensed surrounded
Nancy as the leader of the gang. And frustration at his own inability to
get out from under the debts that superslut had inflicted on him.
Working himself into the heat of a frenzy, he saw the helpless Champion tied
to the floor in his minds eye, and he felt his manhood again rising
inside his tight jeans. She had that effect on him, he knew. He could always
get it up for her. Suddenly stopping, he turned and gazed at the stairwell
leading to the top floor, still imagining the object of his desire. Absently,
his left hand found its way to the bulge in his pants, gently brushing across
the mound, stimulating it further. He knew what he wanted.
His mind made up, he turned determinedly, and made his way up the stairs.
As he stepped out of the stairwell, he saw the heroines black leather
boots through the open door at the end of the hall. The highly polished leather
reflected the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling and only served to raise
even higher Apes anticipation. As he walked toward the door, he watched those immobile
boots as he drew ever closer to them; as he thought about their illustrious
owner, the more he realised that what he wanted was not to again rape the
powerless heroine. Rather, he wanted to defeat and humiliate once more
this
Champion of Women; he hated this title that had been given her
and he wanted to experience the thrill that came with battering this woman
who had so often vanquished the criminal element in Mitropoulos, to show
her her rightful place. He shifted his path to the left so that he could
see more of her legs, and, as he strode up to the supine superheroine, he
realised how very small she was: Couldnt be more than 54,
he thought. What could she weigh? 120 maybe, tops? How could she have beaten
the Normans and the Savoyards, JoJo, Chan, and Cos? All three,
he knew, had been hot for her, as were so many of the gang members who had
supported them. How could such a little girl beat them?
He stared into her masked face, trying to fathom why she couldnt do
the same against him. Again and again, he had beaten her. Nancy said it was
because she found it sexually exciting to be beaten, that losing turned on
the little slut. If thats true, then why was she so dry when he raped
her earlier? He leaned over her, trying to read her emotions in the unconscious
face behind the mask.
Well, he thought, that aint going nowhere. I cant see nothin.
Lets see who she is.
The huge criminal stooped and turned his head to gaze into the closed eyes
behind the mask. He reached his immense paw up to take hold of the shiny
black vinyl disguise that protected her identity. The heroine lay absolutely
still, apparently unconscious and, as her mask slipped from her face, not
the slightest resistance passed across her visage.
Ape stared deeply into the face that was revealed, surprised that the bruises
and battering inflicted during the most recent attack were already so nearly
healed. But he had never seen this girl before. Who the fuck was she? How
could she beat up men many times her size and never be noticed?
The more he stared at the helpless woman the angrier he felt. How could she
take him on? How could she even hope to beat him? Why was Nancy so concerned
about if he could beat her? Of course, he could beat her. Hed
already done it, what, twice?
Absently, he curled his fist. He glanced at it and realised that it was almost
as big as Crimson Flares face. How could she stand up to this? With
his other hand, he grabbed the unresisting Champion by the throat and pulled
her inert form toward him. She barely budged, her wrists and ankles secured
to the pegs that Nancy had insisted be used to restrain her. He pulled at
the young woman again, and again her bonds prevented him from lifting her
more than a few centimeters from the floor.
What the fuck? He dropped his victim and he heard the breath come
from her in a death-rattle gasp that accompanied the plop! of her
body on the hard wood. The criminal turned his attention to the bonds securing
the heroine to the floor. He worked on the ropes at her ankles, his large
fingers having trouble picking their way through the small, tight knots that
held her spread legs. First the left ankle fell free, then the right. He
enjoyed feeling the soft, gleaming leather, like he enjoyed many soft things.
After the rope had fallen away, he held his hand there, so that it rested
against the black boot. He could feel her ankle and calf on the inside.
Finally, he returned to the heroines now-revealed face and again he
tried to pull her from the floor. He could hear the leather heels scrape
across the wood beneath her. But her wrists, still secured to the peg fastened
tightly to the floor, prevented him from pulling her upward.
Again, he dropped her to the floor. He gazed at her naked body, now desiring
to not only defeat her but to relish the fruits of that victory. Clumsily,
he placed his large hand between her small breasts; then he stroked her body,
pressing his hand toward her naked hips and the tantalising dark brown clump
of hair that he saw there. A line of drool fell from his mouth, landing on
her exposed right thigh. It ran down the inside of the tanned leg, settling
on the floor. He licked his lips.
He thought back to when she had been untied earlier, while she had been
unconscious. He and Ed and Morly had removed her ropes to move her, and then
they had re-bound their victim. Nancy had said that it was safe while she
was out cold, but to keep her bound at all times when she was awake. Well,
shes out now. And wheres the victory if you beat up and rape
a bound woman, even a superwoman?
He reached out toward the peg securing the helpless woman to the floor.
*****
Several floors below, Nancy stirred in her sleep. The image on the TV screen
above her showed Ape undoing the knots securing Crimson Flares bound
wrists to the peg fixed to the floor. He lifted the Champions arms,
still secured at the wrists, from the floor, dropping them into her lap.
The monitor showed only a small movement from the bound, gloved arms, barely
noticeable on the screen, and completely invisible to the otherwise occupied
Ape. For her part, Nancy remained oblivious to these events, enjoying her
dreams of the thorough revenge she was orchestrating for a helpless, defeated,
and broken masked Maiden. As she shifted in her sleep, she licked her lips
and smiled an evil smile.
*****
Champion of Women, eh? Hah! Ape talked to himself as he carried
the still-bound heroine through the door and back down the hallway.
Americas Darling! He knew that a few of the practice rooms
had been fitted out with beds, so that, while guarding their prisoner, some
of the gang members would be able to sleep in shifts. Maid of Mitropoulos!
Ha! Ha! he laughed without humour.
At the end of the hall, he turned left through an open door and into one
of the dark 12x12 cubicles. The bed waited in the dark shadows
away from the doorway, where dim light from outside street lamps spread a
yellowish cast. He tossed the unresponsive body of his captive on the mattress.
Dust swirled up into his face, and then fell delicately through the sepia
glow, so that he felt his nose and throat tickle. He snorted as he rose up
to his full height, reaching for his belt buckle.
He dropped his trousers, the buckle clunking noisily on the floor in the
small room. The boards squeaked under him as he shifted his weight to step
free of the encumbrance. Ape peered into the shadow, looking for the powerless
heroine, determined now to fully punish her for her transgressions: his debts,
his shortcomings as a criminal mastermind, even his personal inadequacies.
He felt his pectorals flex as he imagined her soft flesh giving under the
power of his blows. His biceps involuntarily contracted as he bent his elbows
and imagined her tiny form crushed in his embrace. It would be, he decided,
the last thing she would feel. This superbitch was more trouble than she
was worth. Maybe Nancy thought it was a good idea to humiliate her publicly
before killing her, but that had already been accomplished, hadnt it?
She was all over the TV news and named as the supercriminal mastermind behind
all the crimes he had done.
Shit! She even got the credit for the crimes he did pull off.
He would beat her until she was almost dead and then fuck her until she was
a corpse. Let the cops find her that way.
Where was she? She was on the bed a moment ago. She couldnt
have
Crimson Flares fist powered into Apes side, shooting pain right
through him and driving the air from his lungs in an audible gasp. The huge
criminal took a single staggering step forward and then was hit again, in
the same spot, by another powerful blow from the revived superheroine.
Blinded temporarily by the pain, Ape wrapped his arms around his chest, trying
to protect against a third shot to his ribs. Bending slightly at the waist,
he finally lifted his head to search for his antagonist in the small, dark
room.
He saw her nude body move quickly from right to left across his field of
vision. Turn quick, he thought, the next attack will come from
Aaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhh! He stood straight upright as a powerful blow
to the kidneys shot agony up his spine. He felt his knees buckle under him
and the hulking former enforcer reached out for something to steady
himself.
His left arm brushed something soft and, instinctively, he made a grab for
it. Crimson Flare squealed as his huge hand wrapped around her arm, and she
felt herself dragged toward the brute. A karate chop toward his throat missed,
but the revitalised young heroine felt bone break in his jaw.
After the beating her body had endured over the last few days, Crimson Flare
knew that she would have to end this fight quickly if she were to have a
chance against the giant. The pain in her ribs was lessened by the return
of her strength, but not eliminated. So, as her petite form, naked and unmasked,
was pulled toward her enemy, who was naked from the waist down, she kicked
and struck at him with all her remaining strength. The heel of her leather
boot found his shin, and Ape screamed in pain as he fell sideways, back onto
the bed, pulling the heroine after him.
The naked body of Mitropoulos beautiful guardian fell on top of her
huge enemy. Confused by the spinning fall in the grip of her enemy, for the
moment she was unable to defend herself. Her legs were thrown upwards and
outwards by the fall; her free arm fell back against the mattress. And before
she could react with another blow to one of his vulnerable, exposed regions,
she felt both his arms wrap around her like the coils of an anaconda. He
crushed her small body in his arms and pain streaked across her chest. As
she tried to grip one of his arms to pry herself free, she realised just
how large were these encircling extremities. When she grabbed at Apes
massive forearm, far from encompassing the limb, her hand barely covered
half of it. Beneath her fingers, she felt his brachioradials straining to
press the struggling heroine tighter against his chest. Her palm felt the
flexors pulling taut as his wrist curled inward to hold her closer.
She heard him grunt in her ear as he stood up, easily lifting the small form
of the Champion with him. Planting his feet shoulder width apart, he now
strained to press her against his massive chest. Warm blood from his broken
jaw rolled onto her shoulder.
Her legs kicked wildly as Crimson Flare, desperate now, felt the breath,
and along with it her strength, squeeze from her body. She tossed her head
violently from left to right, wriggled madly in his grip, anything to gain
a moment, a loosening of the vise that would soon asphyxiate her. The pain
in her ribs broke through even her reinvigorated strength. Everything failed.
Her leather boots could find no weakening as they bounced off his knees and
thighs, despite the inarticulate grunts the blows drew from him. Gradually,
her movement slowed and the Maiden of Mitropoulos, little by little, fell
limp in his arms.
Gotcha! thought Ape. Ya little cunt, thought youd get
away with playing possum? Well, that was your last trick. And now
there wont be any doubt about whod win our fight. Youre
not tied up any more. Im going to kick the shit out of you and then
rape your ass, once and for all.
The red, purple, and white explosions that flowered in Crimson Flares
vision told her that she was about to pass out. If only she could get some
leverage, get to the floor, so that she could use her strength against her
larger opponent. Held aloft in the huge mans grip, she was helpless.
And as the movements of her legs diminished and her arms failed to budge
the limbs that wrapped ever tighter around her naked chest, Americas
Darling could feel a sense of imminent defeat. Her vision was swallowed entirely
in blackness. Her resistance took on the form of weak, desperate jerks, rather
than her usual smooth, powerful attacks. Eventually, her finely formed legs
were simply hanging limp onto the edge of the bed in front of Ape.
Ape wasnt about to let Crimson Flare fool him again. She had obviously
been playing at unconsciousness when he took her from the floor and put her
in the bed. But now was different. Though she had somehow freed herself from
the ropes that tied her wrists, her resistance had all but ceased. Her gasps
told him that she was still conscious, but he could tell she had nothing
left. All he had to do was to continue to crush her. To strengthen his hold
he leaned forward.
Crimson Flare felt her legs bend as Ape bowed slightly at the waist. Her
feet were solidly planted on top of the thin mattress. Now, quickly! she
thought. Its my only chance!
With all her remaining strength she pushed upward from the bed, driving Ape
awkwardly backwards, crashing into the wall behind him. The cinderblock divider
bowed from the force of his body and, when his head snapped back against
the wall, the POP! echoed through the third floor. Fresh blood quickly
matted his hair from the head wound, and, stunned, he released his hold on
the young Champion.
She dropped to the floor, gasping desperately to fill her aching lungs. Get
up! Get up! she thought, before he recovers. She fought the pain in
her ribs, but planted her boot on the floor and struggled to her feet. The
fact that she was naked made the unsteady motion almost obscene as she rose,
stumbling and shaky. The Maiden of Mitropoulos turned to face her tormentor
and saw him, sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, staring at
his blood-soaked hand. In the dim, yellow light from the doorway, she saw
that a smeared stream of blood had been wiped down the cinderblock wall,
ending behind his head, which had twisted, curious, as he stared,
uncomprehending, at the warm sticky mess.
Suddenly she felt sympathy for the pitiful giant. He seemed unable to comprehend
his injury. His eyes shifted from his reddened hand to the naked Champion
standing over him and back again, as if seeking an answer to an unspoken
question. Her heart softened as the fight for her life was pushed into the
past. Ape, are you all right?
Ah
right? he mumbled, his broken jaw not working.
Americas Darling quickly crouched next to him. She lifted his head
slightly from the wall, and what she saw terrified her. She could see fragments
of bone andsomething else, some kind of gray membranemixed in
with his slick black hair. Turning her eyes to the wall, she saw spots of
the same substances plastered to the cinderblock in the blood trail.
Oh, Ape. Ive got to get you help. Crimson Flare stepped
quickly through the doorway. Her uniform was still laying on the floor in
the room down the hall, where she had been secured only minutes before. Scant
moments later, she returned, masked and clad in her familiar crimson-and-gold
costume. It clung to her in dazzling fashion. Around her waist, her familiar
black leather belt settled on top of her hips, and her baton hung easily
in its holster. The short period of time had restored her to almost her full
strength and she moved into the dim light of the room with her old confidence.
But even in the darkness of the room, the Champion could see that Apes
face had already gone ashen, and his shoulders were covered in blood.
Looking around for something to apply direct pressure to the wound, Crimson
Flare grabbed a pillowcase from off the bed. She wadded the cloth against
the wound. She heard Apes breathing, very shallow and noisy. He was
dying. Holding the pillowcase against the open wound, Crimson Flare pulled
the edges of the cloth toward the front of Apes face, and began to
tie the ends together, securing the ad hoc bandage against his wound. As
she was completing the small knot, a powerful blow against the back of her
head sent her body falling across the injured giants lap. Pain radiated
outward from the sides of her head. Though not unconscious, all she could
see was a black field speckled with multi-coloured pinpricks of light. The
heroines body twisted as she tried to find a way out from the agony
that seemed about to crush her skull.
The Nemissesitor! her mind screamed. Where
?
But the Guardian of Mitropoulos couldnt find the source of her torture.
Her legs kicked spastically, then her form writhed in pain and fell from
Apes lap to the floor, lying on her back. Americas Darling exercised
no control over her body. Her hands gripped the sides of her head, as if
physically trying to pull the torment away.
She cried out weakly, pitifully, desperately trying to find some relief from
the torture.
But it only took another moment for unconsciousness to bring release.
*****
When she came to, Crimson Flare peered through a blurry haze at someones
face looking back at her. There was a voice, as the mouth moved slowly in
the fog, but the words were incomprehensible, echoing against one another,
resounding in a metallic chamber inside her head. Her muscles ached and the
Champion drew a deep breath as she tried to pull herself together.
The sharp pain that shot through her ribs when she inhaled brought her situation
into focus quickly. The pain told her that she had been bound again; and
it told her that she may very well have a broken rib. She groaned.
superheroine, the voice said. Everybody knows as
long as your wrists are tied, youre helpless. And this time youre
going to stay that way. She recognised Nancys taunting voice.
Blinking away the haze, she saw the redhead scant inches from her. The tight
smile was familiar by this time. The Guardian of Mitropoulos tried to speak,
but her mouth was too dry. Swallowing painfullyanother bolt of pain
shot through her ribsshe croaked, Wh-why
why are you
doing this
to me?
Ive already told you, superbitch. To get whats mine. To
get what I deserve. And whats better than just getting it than also
taking down the white bread heroine that has every guy in MitropoulosI
mean, every guy: do you ever even see the stares that follow you when
you come into a room?taking down the oh-so-high-and-mighty heroine
that has every guy in Mitropoulos creaming his jeans? She spit
in Crimson Flares face.
The sputum rolled off her mask and onto her face. The heroine smelled the
small bits of matterprobably lingering bits of her last mealthat
had been expectorated. She desperately wanted to wipe the insult from her
face, but her hands, tightly bound behind her as she sat in the chair, were
absolutely immobile. She dropped her head hoping that the spittle would drop
away, but Nancys cupped right hand lifted her chin before anything
could happen.
No, you bitch. Nothings going to be so easy for you, ever
again. Youre going to die slowly and in pain and humiliation. Then
Ill leave your body at the scene of your latest
no, make that
your last
crime, a crime that went wrong.
Struggling painfully for a breath, Crimson tried to respond to the challenge.
But the pain and the bondage wouldnt let her.
Nancy dropped her hand from the heroines chin to the sequined uniform
that covered her torso. With a surprising gentleness, as the hate that had
moved her seemed to melt away, the back of Nancys fingers began to
press against the small round mound that was the Champion of Womens
left breast. Moving her hand counterclockwise from the center of her chest
and under the perfect, raised bosom, the redhead felt the solidity of the
breast stand up to the tender pressure she brought against its mass. She
sighed, then turned her hand and laid it across the full expanse of the jutting
mammary. She rolled her fingers across its top as if she were playing an
arpeggio on the heroines teat. Her palm pressed a little harder
against the face of the organ and, even through the costume, after some moments
she felt the nipple hardening under her gentleness.
Crimson Flare felt the pain in her ribs diminish as she gave herself over
to the pleasure raised by Nancys manipulation of her sensitive breast.
Her breath came faster as Nancy multiplied the stimuli by bringing her left
hand up to the glittering right breast, again ministering an affectionate
touch to that increasingly sensitive orb.
Or
Nancy whispered.
It was the combination of pleasure and pain that stimulated Crimson Flare.
The agony that she was experiencing from the throbbing in her ribs mixed
deliciously with the expert tactile manipulation that seemed to come so easily
from Nancy. The bondage, too, worked on the heroines mind. She sat
in the high-backed chair, her hands secured tightly behind her back and,
it seemed, also to the back of the chair (for she could not move them either
side to side or up and down, but they stayed, fixed, in a single spot). Try
as she might, she had not been able to twist her wrists in such a way as
to move her claw into position to free herself. The masked Champions
legs were spread and her ankles tied to the heavy legs of a chair that seemed
to be large enough for a cathedra. Between her legs, Nancy sank slowly to
her knees, all the time gently pressing, fingering, molding her small, perfectly
formed mounds; Nancy could tell that they were naked under the heroines
glittering costume. She smiled as Crimson Flares powerful thighs tightened
and she pressed her toes against the floor, trying to raise herself up. But
the ropes had been secured in such a way that the only result was a compression
of her thighs inward, pressing against the redheads chest.
Or
she whispered again.
Oohh! Crimson Flare sighed audibly.
Nancy lifted one hand to the quivering chin of Americas Darling and
raised her head to look into her green eyes. They glistened in the dim light
in the room. She could tell that her victim was on the verge of defeat. Sliding
up her body, as if providing the bound heroine with a lap dance, Nancy gently
placed her other arm around the captives neck and drew her lips close
to Crimsons. Barely touching her lower lip, she delicately kissed her
prisoner once, twice on the soft ruby tissue, then once on the upper lip;
finally, once, twice, three times, and then again and again, each time exercising
a remarkable restraint in order to tantalise, to awaken a sensibility to
the possibilities of her own sensuality. Or
she whispered
a third time, with infinite softness. Their lips met and this time Nancys
kiss was reciprocated. Nancy felt the muscles in her prisoners shoulders
constrict, pulling forward toward her.
Moments later, Nancy opened her mouth and pressed her tongue into the waiting
orifice of the near-broken Champion. There, inside Crimson Flare, the two
pink shafts tried to intertwine; they commingled and danced, enjoying the
shifting pressure and sensations. Below, Nancys hand reached behind
the bound avenger and pulled the zipper down the back of her faintly sparkling
uniform. As the metal teeth separated, revealing the vigilantes silky
back, Crimson Flares tormentor pressed her palm against the smooth
skin. Her palm brushed evenly, gently, feeling the hard muscles pulled taut
against her soft flesh. The redheads hand paused in its movement, seeming
to enjoy the sensation of the skins silky smoothness against its own
surface. Then it moved on, counting the ribs as it moved up and down the
prisoners spine. Nancy felt the lust in her own groin begin the boil,
as she foresaw the logical culmination of this train of events. That same
hand now crossed the shoulder of her prisoner, seeking the hardening nipple
she had felt through the sequined crimson-and-gold costume.
As the redhead ran her hand toward the pale pink aureole, all pain left the
sensibility of Crimson Flare. The Guardian of Mitropoulos embraced only the
pleasure and sensuality. She felt the passion rising within her, and, when
the long fingernail of the ambitious criminal glided across the tip of her
nipple, a violent chill swept simultaneously up and down Crimsons spine.
The tip of that nail pressed lovingly against the base of the nipple and
that point of contact became the centre of the Champions existence.
She threw her head back, drawing in a large breath, which was expelled in
a long sigh of immense sensuality. The pain in her ribs formed only a diminishing
counterpoint to the pleasure that was centered on that tiny point of contact.
Futilely, she pulled again at her bonds, but the very immobility of her arms,
and the powerlessness that it carried, only served to excite Americas
Darling even more.
Focusing her attention on that one breast, Nancy slowly moved that diabolical
fingernail round and round the pinkness, spiraling Crimsons sensibilities
ever higher. At the same time, Nancy pressed her lips tight against the
heroines, smashing the young girls resistance and slowly,
irresistibly, pulling from the heroine the sounds of her defeat.
MMmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnnhhhh! Their lips separated, and Crimson
Flare reached with her head toward the retreating criminal. Her entire upper
body seemed to be reaching for the redhead. Aaagghh! Oh!
Nancy saw her lick her lips, trying to taste the sensuality that had been
separated from her. When Nancy lightly squeezed Crimson Flares nipple
between thumb and forefinger, the helpless avenger released a cry of infinite
sensuality.
Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhggggggnnnnnnmmmmllllll!!
Crimson Flare tugged again at the ropes binding her wrists and again failed
even to move her gloved hands. Through her vinyl mask she looked out at the
redhead who had so often sought to destroy the young woman. She could still
taste the lips and tongue that had only just separated from her own, and
she extended her neck, reaching her head forward, seeking to return to the
pleasure and passion of that kiss. Simultaneously, Nancy noticed, she squeezed
her thighs toward one another, a movement of almost unnoticeable dimension
because of the bindings securing her booted legs to the legs of the chair.
The helpless woman panted as her fervor crested.
Want some more, superheroine? Nancy asked, smiling. Well,
youve got to pay for it.
Wh-what
do
you want?
Before answering, Crimsons tormentor fingered her petite breast. Nancy
never pressed against the mammary; rather, her fingers, her nails, her knuckles
all simply seemed to glide across the surface of the skin, a movement that
served to both tease and torment her young captive. I indicated there
was an alternative, Crimson Flare, Nancy whispered. You might
die, painfully, humiliated. Or
she stopped again.
The nails of her thumb and middle finger pressed against the base of the
hardening nipple. The Champion pushed back in the chair and jutted her chest
forward as the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain flooded her. With a
desperation born of this ecstasy, she pulled for all she was worth, vainly,
at the ropes binding her wrists behind her back.
AAAaaaahhhhhhhhhh!! Her body was quivering.
You might, as an alternative, decide the help me. I think you already
understand how rewarding that might be. I can offer
many
incentives.
Crimson balled her hands into fists and tried again to pull apart the ropes
that bound her, and that had removed her great strength. Thus far, she had
successfully hidden her efforts to free herself behind a façade of
sexual excitement, one she knew Nancy was ready to believe. But Nancys
expertise at raising the vigilantes level of excitement, and the
criminals facility in directing her captives soaring sensations
were breaking down that façade. The bound Champion needed a reprieve
from the torment; she needed to distract Nancy.
Are these
the same rewards you offered
Ape?
Ape? Nancy looked like she had forgotten entirely about him.
All I promised Ape was sex. She answered almost as if it were
an afterthought.
Hes hurt, Crimson Flare said softly.
Yes, you did injure him severely. I suppose youre feeling
guilty.
I didnt
mean to. He and I were fighting
.
I
I saw what happened. The noise of the fight woke me up. When I saw
that you had won, I knew that I needed the Nemissesitor again.
Did you get him some help? Hes very seriously hurt.
Oh, no. Hes going to die. Glancing to her right, through
the open door, she added, If hes not dead already.
But
but
I thought
you cared
for him.
Oh, I do. He took me a long way. Im grateful for that. Very
grateful.
Please. Weve got
to do something.
We will. But first
which will it be, Crimson Slut?
Americas Darling felt her whole body slump as she realised that she
was going to be forced to make a choice: a choice between her own safety
and the life of her injured enemy. Hes got to get help.
Hell
die. The last word was barely a whisper. Crimson Flare
choked up at the thought that she would be responsible for another death.
You might still save him. Make your choice.
The masked Maiden opened her mouth, but she knew nothing she could say would
get Ape aid sooner than obeying Nancy. All
all right, she
said, almost inaudibly. Just get him help.
Nancys hand returned to its circling movement, gliding across the flesh
of her breast. Under the crimson sequins of her costume, the caress was only
barely noticeable. Crimson Flare, aware of her powerlessness and of her inability
to free herself, felt a quaking in the pit of her stomach, as if a herd of
buffalo had decided to move across a range. She may have been trying to create
the illusion of weakness as a means to overcoming Nancy, but the illusion
was coming dangerously close to reality. The muscles in her arms felt flaccid;
she could hardly breathe. Her head slumped toward her chest. She wanted to
ask the redhead once more to get help for Ape, but the words froze in her
throat and remained unspoken.
Nancy was watching the heroine closely, and when her weakness became clear,
she rose to her feet and her hands quickly moved to the knots that secured
her victim to the chair. In only a few moments, the ropes that had tied her
tightly to the large wooden chair lay strewn on the floor around the black
boots of the Guardian of Mitropoulos. Freed, she slumped in her seat, exhausted.
She tried to maneuver her wrists to bring the claw into play, but, right
now, her weariness made it impossible.
Nancy gripped her bound wrists in her hand and lifted, pulling the unresisting
heroine painfully to her feet. Youll have to start by standing,
Crimson Slut. Guided by Nancys grip on her bare upper arm, Crimson
Flare stumbled toward the door through which, only a moment earlier, Nancy
had cast a glance.
Inside the room, Ape lay unconscious on a bed that was almost too small for
his frame. The pillow was soaked in blood. Opposite the door, Ed and Morly,
recalled from their revels, stood awaiting Nancys orders. Crimson caught
her breath when she saw his face. Drained of all colour, she couldnt
be sure he was still breathing. You promised to get him help,
Crimson Flare declared as firmly as she could, turning toward her tormentor.
Then she said, more softly. Is he
?
No, not yet. And Ill get him help when Ive got you where
I want you, the redhead responded.
Nancy moved purposefully behind the bound woman. On your knees,
heroine, she ordered.
Knowing that Apes life was now in the balance, Crimson Flare gritted
her teeth as she slowly dropped to her knees. The pain in her ribs was intense
and when her knees struck the floor the shock was multiplied across her chest.
She had never felt such intense pain as she now felt.
Nancy removed a syringe from her denim jacket as she bent behind the bound
heroine. She didnt say a word as she removed the plastic cover from
the needle and examined the milky fluid on the inside. Then, before Crimson
Flare knew what had happened, she felt the needle plunge into her bare upper
arm near her shoulder. Nancy rose to her feet and walked slowly to face the
Champion and stare at her reaction to the drug.
You know what that is, Crimson Slut? she asked with a broad smile
in her voice. Its the same stuff that Ape put into you a few
hours ago, the stuff that let Ape and the boys
have their fun.
Crimson Flares eyes shot up at the woman standing over her. And
you know where it came from? Hmmh? It was Chans formula. He figured
out what was needed to put someone with your strength out of action. He was
brilliant, you know. He was a shit, but he was brilliant. He wanted to leave
you awake, but unable to resist. He knew that with your strength, the stuff
had to be potent.
The Maiden of Mitropoulos began to sway as the effects of the drug hit her.
She tried to speak. You pr- prom-ised you
youd help
Ape. The words were slurred.
Oh, dont worry about him. In half an hour hell be dead.
Another victim of Mitropoulos supercriminal. Ha-ha!
N-n-no! You
you c-cant! The Masked Maidens
voice was almost inaudible.
I can do anything I want. And that stuff that Chan created will let
me get away with it.
You know whats really great about it? It doesnt lose potency
with frequent use. A lot of drugs seem to get weaker as you use them, so
that you need more to get the same effect. But this stuff
Chan was
so pleased when he saw that you could inject the same amount a dozen, two
dozen times, and the effect was consistent. Even your constitution wont
develop a tolerance for it, superheroine.
I have enough to keep you under my thumb for the next year, if I
want. She stared at her captive. I dont think Ill
need you for that long, she said under her breath.
Crimson tried to shake her head, but the delirium that was taking over only
let her move her head in a series of uneven figure 8s. N-n-nnnoo!
she whispered. She felt her body swaying on a long axis now and the heroine
knew that it was only a matter of time before she was totally helpless.
We dont know if itll make you dependent, though, Crimson
Slut. Seems all of the test subjects died before we could find out whether
they were hooked on it. But they died, all of em, with smiles on their
faces. So the high must be pretty good. One guy had more than twenty of doses,
small by comparison with what we gave you, but the effects were always the
same.
Crimson Flare felt the redheads hand grab her sequined costume and
pull her to her feet. Under the influence of the drug, she didnt resist.
The bound Champion of Women was pulled from the room, leaving the dying giant
behind. Her leather boots beat an uneven clump-clump into the hallway. She
ran blindly after the denim-clad moll as she was pulled toward a destination
she could only guess. Americas Darling felt herself falling a few steps
past the doorway and the increasingly vicious Nancy pulled, demanded, dragged
and cursed the heroine to move her further along.
Come on, you slut. Theres something very special waiting
for you. God damn it, you, move! or Ill kill you
right here, Nancy promised, alternately dragging the young woman and
tugging at her sequined costume. Then, when the bound Guardian of Mitropoulos
would move no more, she hastened behind the fallen heroine to kick her the
last few yards toward the door. In her delirium, the bound heroine crawled
and rolled the last few yards to the room where she had earlier been pummeled
and terrorised.
The kicks drove her into the open doorway. She couldnt clearly see
her destination, her senses having been addled by the effects of the serum
streaming through her. Her ability to move ended as she crossed the threshold
into her former prison. That was far enough for Nancy. She reached down and
grabbed the unmoving vigilante by the back of her costume, grabbing the spandex
where the open zipper had separated it. Three great tugs and the deed was
done.
Nancy circled her captive in the middle of the floor. So, here we are
then. The end of the line. On the floor next to her, Crimson could
make out the vague outlines of Apes black bag.
The heroine simply sat in the middle of the room, her head rocking back and
forth, her dry tongue vainly trying to moisten her parched lips. Crimson
Flares breathing was almost reduced to a panting now, and, as she realised
how desperate was her situation, her head dropped, tears running out of the
corners of her eyes.
Please, she whimpered. Dont hurt me
any
more, she begged.
Nancy began to untie her wrists.
End of Chapter Nine
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome: contact the author at
marat1793@earthlink.net