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.
‘Guess what’s going to happen now, superheroine,’ Ape said with all the enmity he could muster toward the defeated figure at his feet.
‘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