1.            The Men

The one in her ass was taking his time. He was so thick and long that had he been hauling back and slamming himself into her, she would have been screaming. Screaming at the top of her lungs. She was sure that he would have torn her. The big man was taking his time, though. With his full length and girth up her ass, he was drawing back, moving forward into her tightness, and pausing. At one moment, he was giving her short strokes, at another he was rotating his hips. With his hands on her waist, and his hips jammed tightly against her buttocks, he drew circles with his cock. All the while, he went slowly. She could tell he was savoring her.

It was the one that was in her pussy that was viciously pumping. Frantically pumping. He was smaller, but still thick and long. He still stretched her sex, and made her gush as he almost frantically drew himself back, drove himself in, drew back, and slammed in again and again. Each thrust hit the quivering gateway, the sodden lips, and sent his message through her body.

This was why she was screaming – not the one in her ass, but the frantic one in her pussy. Her body demanded it, and she ushered up screams and gasps. That is, she screamed as best she could. The surges of pain erupting from her drooling woman space demanded scream after scream, but there was the issue of the fingers. There were fingers in her mouth and her screams came out as strangled gaks and choking sounds.

“You guys do whatever you want with Scorpio. With The Frequency going, she’s powerless. She’s an average woman.”

The man in the corner sounded almost paternal. He sipped his whiskey.

The one in her ass stopped, held, and started to rotate in the opposite direction. Scorpio’s thighs, lean and muscular in the skintight red of her catsuit, flexed and shook as the men worked inside of her. They had placed her, face-down, on top of the man who was now in her cunt. He was up in her, clutching her throat and thick, black hair. The one who was penetrating her ass had moved in behind her, taking her ass, had made sure to take a firm hold of her narrow waist. His hands were powerful, and seemed determined to crush her.

Another one – the one with the thick fingers - had reached past the others and jammed his fingers into her mouth. At first, they fumbled about between her lips, but soon hooked in to the corners of her mouth. He pried her red lips open and held her mouth in a gape. He would yank back, making her head buck and jerk back as though she were a horse being reigned in.

She had come to The Club to subdue The Men, and found quickly that they had been expecting her. She had felt the strength drain from her as the cigar-smoking, whiskey drinking men surrounded her. The strange hum – the power or technology, or whatever it was that made up The Frequency– had made her an average woman who now at their mercy. It had also made a statue out of her. This version, seemed, was meant to paralyze superheroines. She stood stock-still, her body suddenly heavy and weak.

She swayed a bit, but her black-booted feet stayed anchored in place. A lean woman in skin-tight red-and-black, she was their toy. A raven-haired Asian woman with a taut, sinewy body, she could offer nothing as the first man stepped forward and issued a command.

“Come here, bitch, so that I can slap you.”

This was when she learned that this version of The Frequency made a puppet of her. Moving silently, stocking-boots against the wood floor, she walked through the gauntlet of men and stopped within arm’s reach of the man who had issued the order.

“That’s a good bitch.”

He was a heavily-muscled, slick-backed “bro,” just as she expected most of them to be when she entered their lair. What she didn’t expect was that he would be her puppet master.

She saw him raise a wide, thick hand. A tidal wave of pain snapped her head to the right, black hair flying. Another tidal wave of pain and force snapped her face the other way. A wild wave of black swept her face as she toppled her to the floor.

“There we go,” he laughed as he loomed over her prone form. She was sprawled on her side, but slowly rolled on to her back. Her legs lazily dropped open, spreading, falling apart with her knees bent. One arm was draped across her waist and one stretched out.

There was a hush and a collective groan of excitement as The Men took in the sight of her camel toe mound in second-skin red. They could see the thick, swollen lips pouty lips pressing through her slick red costume.

“Scorpio, gentlemen. Look at her.”

He jolted his drink a bit, just an inch, so that sip of it overcame the rim of the glass. It dropped in a small brown spout and landed on her sculpted abs. The red skin sheath darkened as his whiskey sank into the material.

“She can fly, you know. She can produce the Dark Energy burst that could kill us all. Martial arts that are probably the best I’ve seen.”

He nodded at a lean and cut man in the corner.

“Better than you, Richie, no offense.”

The man – Richie - was in slight awe of the woman in red who was stretched out on the floor in front of him, but still managed a nod to the man in charge.

“She could have done us all in, but we hit her with The Frequency. Now, she down, she’s ours, and she will do what we say. Scorpio, Rip the crotch out of your costume. Just enough for a few cocks. Don’t mess up that costume too much. We have to sell you ‘as is.’ Make it subtle.”

On her back, eyes looking up at the ceiling, vacantly, she reached down and took hold of the material with the tips of her fingers.  The felt her muscles complying, her body doing the will of these men.

Her fingertips pinched the material of her costume and pulled to either side. The costume had the feeling of silk, and its tearing filled the air with a crisp ripping sound as the man spoke.

“Everyone, make sure you get a chance to fuck her. Don’t mess her up too bad because we are selling her.”

The circle closed on her.

“Men, take some time, Share. Everyone, enjoy their drinks and smoke up!.”

He raised his whiskey.

“Have your whiskey. Have your wine. Smoke your cigars. Enjoy her and enjoy being men! The Men! We are The Men.”

There were clinking glasses and a general cheer. The first man to unzip his pants and walk to her was a massive man in a silk shirt. He had the same slicked-back hair and he handled a massive cock in a massive hand.

“Ah! Big Charlie goes first! It’s always the guy with the legendary cock to jump in first!”

The long, thick lips of her pussy were wet and exposed, but he went to her face. The free hand grabbed the hair on the top her head. Her eyes were open and had a blank empty look as he drew her head up and tilted it towards himself.

Scorpio had full, thick red lips. With her in a trance they were parted and yielded no resistance as he slipped the girth into her mouth. The men cheered, watching the red circle of her mouth widen and for a seal around the veiny shaft. He started to pump his hips.

A guy named Ben, younger and wearing his hair in pony tail, knelt between her thighs. He held a cigar in his right hand.

“Gotta’ moisten this.”

With one hand, he spread the Japanese woman’s pink-grey lips. Her thighs trembled a bit. He hips bucked a little in response to him. With the other hand, he slowly inserted the end of a long Cuban cigar. Her wetness seemed to almost leap out to meet the dry, pungent skin of the gourmet smoke.

“There we go. Hey, could we dial The Frequency back just enough to let her moan and groan?”

They did. Scorpio’s lips turned down. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she moaned loudly as the cigar rotated in her pussy. In moved like a piston. It joined itself with her folds. It slowly, finally, left her cunt.

He brought it to his lips.

Those two were  the first of the 15 men.

These three – the one in her ass, the one in her pussy, and the one with his fingers in her mouth – were the last of the 15. Not that they hadn’t taken the time to slap her, crush her breasts in their hands, cum in her hair, or run their hands between her thighs. It was now that they got to take their turns inside her body.

She felt these men, the two that were in her, clench down and tighten up on her body. They pulled her hair and squeezed her body. Her sex, her ass, the thighs were already slick and pungent with mansalt. These two pumping geysers only added to the sloppy mess that poured from her sex and formed a creamy mass between her buttocks.

The Men released her.

Scorpio collapsed to the floor.

“Go on. Everyone who needs to finish,  go ahead and finish.”

Scorpio lay, on her side as one stream after another poured down on her.