I had no way of knowing how long I had been unconscious. As I awoke from the chloroform induced sleep, I found myself in the backseat of the police cruiser. My hands were cuffed behind my back. My ankles were crossed and tied off with a heavy piece of rope. I was sitting upright with a pair of hands gripping my right arm and supporting me.
“What?” I mumbled in confusion. “Where am I?”
“Take it easy,” the reassuring voice of an older man replied. “I’ve got you.”
He pulled me from the car and lifted my limp body in his arms. My head and feet dangled loosely
toward the ground as he held me against his chest. I forced my eyelids to crack so that I could see what was going on. My vision was still blurry, but I could tell that we were inside some type of large structure, such as a warehouse or industrial shed. There was no floor, just dirt. A railroad spur cut across the ground, though it looked as if it had not been used in a very long time. Weeds had sprouted up between the wood ties, apparently preferring the bed of cinders on which the tracks had been laid to the hard packed dirt of the earthen floor.
The ceiling of the structure was some forty feet overhead. It was constructed of a mixture of iron beams, metal grates, and chicken wire, and was in such poor condition that the light of the early afternoon sun found no difficulty in penetrating the building. The shafts of light extended from the dilapidated ceiling to the dirt floor, burning through the shadows like golden support beams.
We had walked only a short distance when we came to a small stub of a structure. On one side of the structure was a door. My captor shifted the weight of my body in his arms and reached for the knob. When the door swung open, I could see a stairwell leading underground. He carried me into the darkness that lay beyond.
“No...” I protested weakly. “Where are you taking me?”
The man did not answer. We soon reached the bottom of the stairwell. We passed through another door and then proceeded down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The sound of the man’s footsteps echoed between the cement walls. Running the length of the passage were several metal pipes. The methodical drip of water splattering against the cement floor was the only other noise that accompanied us.
We turned a corner and passed through yet another door. We entered a large, square, room. This chamber was brightly lit and the cement floor had been covered with a large rubber mat, like that used at wrestling competitions. My captor kneeled and gently laid my body atop the mat in the very center of the room.
The man stood and walked away to busy himself at a table that had been set against the opposite wall. I tried to sit up, but my mind was still cloudy from the chloroform and the best that I could do was roll onto my side and raise my head. As my vision began to clear, I realized just how serious my peril had become.
Positioned about me in each corner of the room was a tripod. Atop the tripods were motion picture cameras. I soon realized that it was from these cameras that the room gained its luminance, as atop each of the devices was a single electric bulb that basked my bound form in its bright light.
The lenses of the cameras were like emotionless dark eyes peering at me. A blinking red indicator on the front of each device convinced me that I was, even now, being photographed. Cables ran from the back of the cameras to a nearby cabinet. The cabinet had a glass panel for a door and through this I could clearly see four video recorders. “The bastard,” I mumbled under my breath. “He’s making a rape video and I am to be the star.”
But the cameras were the least of my concerns. Around me, hanging from brackets mounted on the walls, were all kinds of instruments of bondage—Shackles, chains, cuffs, ropes, harnesses, and gags. Other devices, those of a more sexual nature, were also here. Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, nipple clips, and other items that I could not even begin to identify. It was a nightmare come true, I knew. My worst fears realized.
Things were slowly coming into clearer focus. My mind was once again able to think straight. I knew that I had to escape this place. I knew that I had to get out.
I pulled against the handcuffs that held my wrists together. As I suspected, my strength was nowhere near great enough to break them. The androids had seen to that, I recalled gloomily. Jack and Jill had raped me and brought off my climax. My powers were gone and would not return for several hours.
The man turned from the table and walked toward me. He was not like the typical villains I so often battled against, I noticed. He was older, appearing to be in his late forties or early fifties. He stood six foot four and had a slender build. He had auburn hair and hazel eyes. His face was weathered, although not wrinkled. He possessed a great tan and seemed to be in excellent shape for a man his age. His slight frame was limber and he had an energy in his step that seemed almost out of place. He had already demonstrated his strength by carrying my one hundred and thirty pound mass down the stairway and through the hall to this room.
Except for the fact that he was uncharacteristically old to be a beat cop, he did not appear out of place wearing the blue uniform. His shirt was pressed and buttoned. The badge was polished. His hair was cut short and professional. A nameplate was positioned perfectly over his right shirt pocket.
“Johnson?” I asked. “Officer Johnson?”
“What?” he replied with a smile. “Oh, the nametag. Since you asked, I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s not my real name.”
“So I figured. But I have to admit that you fit the part. I never would have guessed that you were an imposter.”
The man kneeled over me. He held something up to the light. A chill ran up my spine as I saw the syringe. He held it in front of his face and flicked at it with his fingers to jar loose any air bubbles that might have been hiding in the bluish liquid contained within the hypodermic canister.
“It was pure chance that I came across you when I did,” he said matter of factly. “The manager of the motel waved me down and said there was some trouble in one of the rooms. He asked me to check it out. When I saw that it was you, the great Ms. Marvelous... Well, let me just say that I was quite taken aback.”
“What’s in that?” I asked in trepidation. “What are you going to do?”
The imposter continued preparing the syringe as if he had not heard my question. His manner of speech was like that of a doctor speaking to a patient—warm and reassuring. But I knew better. This man was cold.
“At first, I thought that I would just play it smart and see if I could fool you into thinking that I was a real cop. The last thing I wanted to do was risk making you suspicious. But you seemed kind of out of it. It became apparent to me that the people you had been fighting must have roughed you up pretty good.”
The man pressed on the plunger with his thumb and allowed a stream of the bluish fluid to spray into the air. “My brashness was out of character, I admit. I am usually quite careful. But there was something about you—Something alluring. Maybe it was the idea of abducting a famous super-heroine such as yourself. After all, it would be the accomplishment of a lifetime. Or perhaps it was simply because you are drop-dead gorgeous. Whatever the case, I quickly came to the conclusion that I needed to have you. I needed you to be a part of my collection.”
“Your collection?” I asked.
“Hmm... Yes, what’s that? Oh, yes, my collection. Of girls, don’t you know? I abduct them and bring them here. I film them as I have my way with them. My collection of videos has grown large over the years. But you-- The man lustfully ran his eyes the length of my body. “You will be the pinnacle of my career. You will be the prize jewel in my collection.”
“You are mad!”
“It was a rash decision, I know. I was putting everything at risk by going after you. But luckily for me, you succumbed quite easily to the chloroform. I was surprised at how simple it was to take you down, actually. Apparently, your reputation as a super-fem has been somewhat exaggerated. Never the less, I will be quite relieved to get you trussed up and under the effects of this drug so that we can proceed.”
“You will never get away with this, Blue Boy!”
The imposter looked at me and chuckled. “Blue Boy? Are they still calling me that? Or is it just that one reporter, the one at the Gazette. What is his name? Steiner? Yes, that’s it, Steiner. He has been after me for months. Not that I mind the publicity, but I think that he could have arrived at a better alias than ‘Blue Boy’. It doesn’t really do justice to the artist that I am.”
The Blue Boy carefully stabbed the needle against the fleshy part of my hip. “Hmm... that’s odd... I can’t seem to get it to go in. This needle must be dull. But persistence will pay off in the end...”
I thanked the heavens for my bulletproof skin. Although my flesh is feels normal, it is virtually impenetrable. Most of the time, anyway. After losing my powers to the Sartak, though, I guess it was not as tough as it usually is because the needle of the syringe finally pricked me.
“There! That’s got it!”
My captor pressed down on the plunger and emptied the bluish contents of the hypodermic into my bloodstream. I did not know what I had been injected with, but figured that it could not be good. I bit my lower lip and waited—
The drug hit me like a sledgehammer to the top of the skull. In moments, my body became numb. My head, only just clearing from the effects of the chloroform, was suddenly swimming. The room became warped and bizarre. My head slumped against the mat. I remained conscious, but it was difficult to think. I was in a dream world, now, with no control over my body and no control over my circumstance.
“What... have you... done to me?”
“Just relax,” the Blue Boy replied in a far away voice. “I will take care of everything.”
He turned me onto my stomach and pulled a small key from his shirt pocket. He removed the
handcuffs and returned them to his belt. My arms fell limply to my sides. I felt him slowly run his hand the length of my legs, from the top of my ass down and across the back of my athletic thighs, across my knees, and over my taught calves. He lifted my feet and began unwinding the rope that bound my ankles. Once finished, he lowered my feet back to the mat and spread them so that they rested far apart. He rose and walked to the wall behind me.
I wanted to move. I wanted to resist. But the drug had permeated my body and reduced me to a state of near paralysis. I am normally highly resistant to narcotics, but in my weakened state I knew that I had little chance to recover my senses in time to do me any good.
The Blue Boy returned and again kneeled next to me. His hands held a twenty-four inch aluminum rod. The rod was an inch in diameter and had sturdy looking clasps on either end. The imposter attached one clasp to my left ankle, the other to my right. He tested the clasps to insure that they were fastened securely. Satisfied, he got up and again walked away.
I tried to move my feet. Through force of will alone, I was able to lift them off the mat and into the air. The aluminum shaft held my legs apart. Weakly, I tried to turn onto my side so that I could see the device and perhaps use my hands to unfasten the clasps from my ankles. Before I could, though, the Blue Boy was back. His hand grabbed the shaft and easily prevented me from moving.
“Still some life left in you, I see,” he stated warmly. His tone was unexpected, like that of a proud father talking to a daughter. “That’s good! Most girls are completely zonked out by this point.”
Rather than push my legs back to the mat, the Blue Boy pressed forward on the aluminum shaft and forced my feet closer to my hips. The pressure that this caused on my knees forced my hips and thighs to open wider. The taught muscles of my long legs stretched to accommodate this new position, but I was feeling no pain. I felt the sensation of cool steel against the bare skin of my right thigh as my captor fastened a larger clasp in place. He lifted my leg off of the ground momentarily as he slid the molded band of aluminum metal into place. It clasped shut behind my leg, almost half way up my thigh, and pressed tightly, though not uncomfortably, into my flesh.
“Yes,” he muttered in satisfaction. “That’s the right size.”
Fastened to this first band by a short length of steel chain was a second, smaller clasp. Working quickly, the Blue Boy attached this second shackle over the middle portion of my shin and calf. A barely audible metallic click indicated that it was locked in place.
The man shifted his position to my opposite side and repeated the process on my left leg. Finished, he stood and admired his work. My legs were now thoroughly shackled. They were spread wide
and bent at the knees, and their movement was almost completely restrained. He reached down and grasped the aluminum rod holding my ankles apart. With a gentle twist, he turned me over onto my back and then allowed my feet to drop back to the floor. He smiled in satisfaction. My thighs were parted to the perfect fucking position, just as he had planned.
Once again my captor walked to a nearby wall. From a hook he removed yet another pair of shackles, though these were smaller than those he had used before. He returned and kneeled next to me, then fastened the first of the shackles on my right wrist. He raised my arm and tested the spacing of the metal between the inner surface and my skin. Satisfied that the fit was acceptable, he reached across my body, raised my left wrist, and shackled it as well.
I tried to resist but it was pointless. My arms had no strength. As he released my wrists they fell across my stomach, fastened together with a sturdy, three link, chain. “Please, do not do this...” I pleaded in an almost incoherent voice. “You do not realize... what it will do to me.”
He smiled and lustfully examined my defenseless, athletic, body. He seemed to come to some conclusion. “I like the costume. We will leave it on, for now.”
My captor fastened one last aluminum band to my body, this one a three-inch wide collar that fit snuggly around my neck. He placed it on me carefully, lifting my head and being sure to move my long hair out of the way, before clasping it in front. Finally, he attached an eight foot steel chain to a loop on the front of the collar. I grunted in discomfort as he gave the chain a quick tug to make sure that it was secure.
I was completely humiliated at being bound in this manner, but my troubles were only just beginning. I closed my eyes as his hands lifted the top of my costume up and over my large breasts. The stretchy material easily adjusted to its new position atop my upper chest, rolling up and adhering itself to my skin in tight, non-restricting, folds. The feel of his fingers, barely touching me, lightly caressing the outer edges of my flesh, as if he were afraid that he might damage me, caused an unwanted pang of desire to flash through my body. I suppose I almost expected it, really—The episode with the androids earlier in the day, during which I had been aroused to the point of climaxing and beyond, and the abduction, during which my helpless body had been carried in my captors arms and pressed close to his chest, had peeked the physical response of my body and caused it to react in anticipation of this moment. This physical response was furthered by the events of the last several minutes, during which time I had been drugged and trussed up in a very erotic way. Anticipation is a powerful aphrodisiac, after all, and the effect of the bondage, whether I consciously desired it or not, could not be denied—Even before the Blue Boy began softly caressing my breasts, my body had become aroused.
And even this knowledge-- the knowledge that I was completely unable to control the physical responses of my oversexed, twenty-two year old, body-- seemed only to add to my arousal. Just thinking about it made me wet. “Oh, god!” I thought, “I really am a slut!”
The Blue Boy’s fingers were stroking me with more force, now, manipulating my tits in ways that he knew would maximize my pleasure. He had done this to lots of girls, I knew, and had learned well the lessons of love. From the careful, methodical way that he rubbed me, I quickly came to realize that he was not like most rapists. Unlike those others, who practiced their crime as an expression of hate, dominance, or perversion, the Blue Boy was determined to make his victims enjoy the experience. Clearly, there was some mad, internal need that he had to fulfill by abducting and raping young women, but there was also a clear desire to make his victims take pleasure in the experience. In his sick mind, I supposed, it made sense—What better way to prove one’s own sexual vitality than by forcing pleasure on a woman that does not want or desire it?
And there could be no denying that I was now feeling pleasure. My breasts, so recently abused by the androids, were once again swelling beneath the assault of a gifted opponent. His fingers seemed to know just how to touch me. His caresses found just the right spots and touched me with just the right amount of pressure. “Oh my god,” I thought. “How many women has he done this too? How can he know how to rub me just so?”
I had been under his fingers for only a few minutes, yet my body was on fire. My hands, shackled together and lying atop the chiseled abdominal muscles of my stomach, did not move to stop him. My breathing was ragged. My engorged breasts heaved beneath his gentle hands. My nipples stood upright like hard points and screamed in passionate agony every time his fingers rubbed across them.
Yet, I knew that this could not go on. Even while under the mind numbing influence of the drug, I knew that I was in mortal danger. I knew that I had to escape. I had already suffered through one orgasm on this day. It had stolen my powers and made me weak as a kitten. To suffer another might be to put my very life at risk.
“Stop...” I begged. “Please don’t... do this...”
My pleading fell on deaf ears. Rather than stop, my abductor leaned over my chest and softly took my right nipple between his lips. He gently pecked at the swollen bud, pressing it between his lips and pulling it upward, away from my aching breast, before releasing it and allowing it to snap back. I moaned loudly as a wave of body numbing sensations coursed through my chest.
At the same time that his kisses were tormenting my right nipple, the fingers of his hand continued to play with my left breast. His fingers drew soft circles around my bulging cup. His thumb flicked playfully at the hard bud. I thought that I might lose my mind to the feelings washing over me. I could feel an orgasm beginning to emerge from deep inside my loins.
“Please... no...”
As before, the Blue Boy ignored my pleas and continued to massage my aching tits. He kept at it diligently for another five minutes, torturing me with sadistic pleasure. Over and over again, he brushed his fingertips across my burning flesh. Over and over again, he gently flicked and kissed my bulging nipples. My breasts were no longer my own. They belonged only to him. They belonged only to his fingers and tongue.
The Sartak was in control of my mind. That it had taken so long to overcome me was due in greater part to the drug than to my own willpower. But I could resist it no longer. I gave in to the desires. I gave in to the burning need. I could not resist the sensations any longer. I could not--
“Alright then,” my captor’s voice suddenly interrupted my Sartak induced reverie. “I need to change the tapes and then we will continue.”
“The tapes?” I wondered to myself. And then I remembered. The cameras. All of this was being filmed. My utter defeat--the defeat of Ms. Marvelous--was being recorded. I was filled with dread as I considered that the tapes might get out to the public. I grimaced at the thought that my enemies, men like Don Refrain and Prince Lomac, and all the other punks and thugs that I had battled in the past—I grimaced at the thought that they would be able to see the conquest of Ms. Marvelous. There were four cameras—My enemies would be able to see my defeat from every angle.
The Blue Boy was at the cabinet that contained the video recorders. He worked on the tapes for several minutes, even going so far as to label them with a felt tip marker. He was in no hurry, I realized. He had all the time in the world. After all, I was not going anywhere.
My body still burned but the sensations were gradually beginning to recede. I knew that I had to find a way to escape. I had to figure a way out of this mess. But what could I do? I was bound in shackles and chains. My strength was gone. My powers were gone. I was the prisoner of an older, more experienced, man. How many women might he have done this to in the past? What were the chances that he had made a mistake and left some opening, however small, that I could exploit? What hope did I have?
As if in answer, the Blue Boy closed the cabinet door and walked to the wall. His hand reached for a string of ceramic beads that was hanging there. The beads were white and smooth. They were molded in various sizes, the smallest being the size of a marble and the largest being about the size of an olive. I had seen such beads before. I knew what they were for. I knew what they could do to me. The answer to my question was clear-- I had no hope.
“Let’s flip you over,” the imposter said as he returned to my side. “No, you must not...”
“It will be ok,” he reassured me. “All you need do is relax.” “But...”
“Over we go--”
He flipped me onto my right side and then over onto my stomach. My engorged breasts mashed against the soft rubber of the mat. Moving around behind me, he placed a hand on each of my hips and pulled me up onto my knees so that my butt was in the air. He pressed down on my back, arching it, to keep my head and shoulders against the mat. My hands, bound together at the wrists, lay weakly against
the floor under my stomach. My legs, forced apart by the aluminum shaft shackled to my ankles, allowed a clear shot to my vulnerable anus and womanhood. The fingers of his right hand gently slipped beneath the fabric of my black bikini bottom and pulled the sheer material to the side. He paused for a moment to enjoy the sight of my naked ass and exposed vagina, then ran his middle digit the length of my butt crack.
“Very nice,” he stated matter of factly. “Very nice, indeed.”
“You bastard!” I groaned.
He used the fingers of his left hand to spread my firm cheeks apart and better expose my anus.
The tip of his thumb poked at it, as if testing how much resistance it would find. He held the beads in his right hand and moved them closer. The first bead was not large—It slid inside my puckered hole easily.
“Stop it!” I demanded. “Do not do this!”
I tensed my ass as much as I could in an attempt to close myself off to him. The second bead, larger than the first, met with more resistance but eventually slipped inside my hole. My breathing was becoming heavy. Feelings were being generated inside of me that I had hoped never to experience.
“Please stop...”
Pushed forward by his thumb, a third bead disappeared inside my hole and pressed the first two yet deeper. I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the erotic sensations beginning to erupt from my ass.
“Please...”
The fourth bead, the largest one yet, disappeared inside me only to reappear a moment later. He pushed it in a second time and drove his thumb in behind to make sure that it garnered adequate depth. My hole was literally burning, now. Other parts of my body, too, were beginning to react to the sensations that I was feeling. My already abused breasts, pressed against the mat, tingled with excitement. My clit was swelling. My pussy was nearly sopping.
A fifth marble made me moan as a combination of ecstasy and pain washed across my aroused body. As each new orb was pressed into my aching hole, the ones that had gone before it were pressed ever deeper inside me.
“Oh, god...” I whimpered. “No more... please...”
The sixth bead, the largest in the strand, stretched my hole wide before being swallowed up with my depths. The Blue Boy released the remaining portion of the strand and allowed it to dangle down across the entrance to my moist pussy. He leaned back to admire his work and give the cameras a better view.
“Half way there,” he said without emotion.
“No... more...”
He ignored my plea and went back to work. A seventh bead disappeared inside me. My mind
was awash with sexual imagery. A slick layer of perspiration now covered my body. My eyes were closed and my breathing ragged. An orgasm was building inside me.
Bead number eight entered me slowly and pressed against the others, pushing them deeper. The Blue Boy pressed down on it with his thumb, trying to gain room for number nine. Finally, he had them both in. He slapped me on the ass in encouragement.
“You can do it, Sweetheart. I know you can.”
I barely noticed his words. All I could think about were the incredibly powerful and debilitating sensations rocketing through my violated body. The orgasm was growing stronger. A few rubs across my swollen clitoris and I knew that it would explode.
The tenth bead was large and my captor had to struggle to push it in. Persistence paid off, though, and I eventually absorbed it. Bead eleven was smaller and disappeared within my overcrowded hole more easily.
“You’re... killing... me...”
“Just one more, Sweetheart. One more to go.”
He pressed hard on the twelfth bead with his thumb, forcing it inside me. The reddened,
puckered lips of my anus seemed not to want to accept it, but finally, somehow, the other beads were pushed deep enough to allow its entry. It was not the last bead on the strand—The Blue Boy allowed the thirteenth and final bead to remain just outside my hole as a means for pulling the others back out.
“If you liked them going in,” he reassured me, “you will love them coming out.”
I did not hear his comment. I was completely devastated. My body, fully under the influence of the Sartak, was ready to self-combust. Every fiber of my being was burning with an uncontrollable, passionate, fire. I was a volcano, just waiting for a final stimulus before I exploded.
My tormentor stood and gazed down on my helpless form for several long moments. An enormous bulge was pressing outward from the crotch of his pants. “My, god,” he exclaimed excitedly. “You are really getting turned on by this, aren’t you?”
“No... more...”
The Blue Boy stepped around in front of me and leaned over. He took my collar chain in his left hand. He gave the leash a quick tug and lifted my flaccid form up onto my knees, so that I was in an upright position. Maintaining his hold on the chain with his left hand, he used his right to slowly unbuckle his belt. The sound of his zipper caused a jolt of panic to shoot though my clouded mind.
“Oh, no...please, god... not that...”
I forced my eyes to open a crack. His monstrous man muscle was there, only inches from my face. It stood at attention in front of me, a stiff shaft of iron, perfectly straight except for a slight downward bend that served only to make it appear all the more fearsome. My eyes opened wider at the sight of it. I found myself both frightened and curious. I stared at it long and hard, seemingly unable to look away, like a virtuous schoolgirl viewing the male organ for the first time.
“Allow me to introduce you to the real Officer Johnson,” my captor stated with a chuckle.
Despite my fear, I thought for a moment that I might cum on the spot. So over-stimulated was my once powerful body that this new, visual, stimulus was nearly enough to push me over the edge. I tensed and used all my remaining strength to hold back the impending orgasm. It was nip and tuck for a moment, but in the end I was successful. Not that this small victory would ultimately do me much good, I knew.
The fat tip of the monster cock tapped me on the edge of my nose. Knowing the danger that it represented, I wanted to pull away, to get as far from it as possible, but my captor tugged on the collar chain and held me close by. The head of his cock seemed huge as it slowly dragged across my cheeks and over my chin. A tiny trickle of fluid emanating from its single eye left a warm film of moisture against my skin.
I closed my eyes as the fleshy, crimson head slid over my blushing cheeks and across my mask. The moist tip softly caressed my eyelids, sliding across each in turn and causing my ensnared body to tremble. It then worked its way back down the bridge of my nose before descending to my lips. The warmth of the thing was incredible as it rested atop my pouting lower lip.
“No...” I pleaded softly. “Do not--”
Opening my mouth to speak was a mistake. My words were silenced as the fat head of my captor’s monstrous dagger plunged into me. It slid across my lips like a hot piece of metal being used to stoke and already burning oven. My body felt as if it were on fire as the shaft of my tormentor drove deep into my oral cavity. My lips were forced to open wide to accept it. They tightly enveloped the shaft as it penetrated me. I thought that I might gag but despite my initial revulsion, and to my utter dismay, my lips were soon caressing and sucking on the huge muscle as it rolled across my eager tongue.
I knew that I was at the end. The Sartak was dominating me as surely as was my attacker. Erotic fantasies filled my over stimulated mind as surely as my captor’s enormous cock filled my mouth. My body was reacting to the stimulation without regard to the moral code of ethics by which I live my life. My mind, helpless in the face of such a purely physical response, was likewise ready to surrender. My willpower was broken. I, the virtuous Ms. Marvelous, was wholly defeated.
At my tormentor’s urging, I rose up higher on my knees to take in more fully the length of his stiff member. My lower legs, chained as they were to my thighs, came off the ground so that the weight of my over-taxed body rested entirely on the points of my knees. My red lips formed a perfect circle around his shaft as I eagerly sucked on the thing. I took it deep into my throat and caressed it with my tongue.
My cheeks burned red as I momentarily regained enough of my inner self to realize just what it was that I was doing. But there was no thought of pulling back. There was no thought of lashing out or trying to escape. I had been reduced to little more than an animal. I wanted this. I wanted to be ravaged. I, the once great champion of justice and defender of Megapolis, had been thoroughly beaten.
I pulled back and allowed the Blue Boy’s cock to slide from my mouth long enough to take a deep breath. I lapped at the shaft with my tongue and then sucked on the head as if it were a lollypop. My captor clearly liked what I was doing. His body stiffened. His head leaned back and he groaned.
“That’s it,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s a good girl.”
We continued like this for another three minutes. My cheeks blushed red at the knowledge of what I was doing, but I was completely helpless to prevent myself from continuing. I was a slave of the Blue Boy. I was a slave of the Sartak. He controlled my body. It controlled my mind. My will was broken. His wonderful cock was all that I wanted. It became slick with my saliva. It was like a piece of candy to me as I—
A spasm suddenly rocked the body of my captor. He let out a heavy sigh and hurriedly removed his stiff rod from my mouth. His semen exploded across my face in a series of huge, forceful, streams. I closed my eyes and embraced the warmness of his seed as it covered my skin. My tongue tasted its saltiness as it dribbled over my flushed lips.
And then, as quickly as my captor’s eruption had begun, it was over. He tugged on my leash and lifted my chin. He looked down on my sperm coated face with sadistic pleasure. “You did very well, my beautiful young dove. Very well, indeed!”
I opened my eyes and looked up into face. For the first time, I saw the Blue Boy as he truly was. His once handsome features were twisted in sick elation. His eyes burned with a cold fire as his domination of my body became complete. This was why he did what he did, I now knew. The Blue Boy possessed a never-satisfied inner need to dominate young women. His good looks, his kindly demeanor, his excellent lovemaking techniques—All these were a cover for the real man that existed underneath. Beneath the surface, he was as pathetic as all rapists. Beneath the surface, he was all about making himself feel superior by dominating his victims.
But the sight of my wide blue eyes staring up at him seemed to soften his sinister expression. It was as if a switch went off in his head and he realized that he had shown me too much of his inner self. I felt a mixture of amusement and disgust as he transformed before my eyes and resumed his posture as the kindly, almost father-like, older gentleman.
The fingers of his right hand moved from my chin the side of my cheek. He gently pulled at the edge of my semen soaked mask and peeled it from my skin. He allowed the mask to fall from his hand to the floor.
“My, god!” he exclaimed. “You are truly beautiful!”
I did not reply. There was, after all, nothing to be said. An intense shame filled my inner being, burning nearly as hot as my overwhelming sexual lust. I was bound and drugged, I knew, and despite my new insight into the type of man the Blue Boy was, there was little that I could do. I was a powerless prisoner. I had been forced to give a blowjob to my captor and now his drying seed clung to my face like sores on a leper. To further my shame, I had been unmasked. I was being filmed and soon the entire world would be able to see my disgrace.
Nor had my physical predicament improved. The strand of beads still burned in my ass. My pussy was literally dripping. My clitoris was swollen and sensitive. My naked breasts, engorged with blood, stood firm. My hard nipples pointed upward and desired the touch of my captor’s fingers. This is what I had been reduced to, I knew. My body was a sexual plaything for the Blue Boy.
He placed his hands on my shoulders and gently lowered me onto my back. He kneeled between my knees. The shackles on my legs forced my thighs apart and gave him free access to my womanhood. The brush of his finger across my moist slit sent a jolt of energy surging through my aroused body. My head lay back and my back arched as he caressed my sensitive nether lips a second time.
His fingers worked me over relentlessly, rubbing and probing me in all the right places. His gentle touch seemed almost magical. His fingers danced across my receptive womanhood masterfully, massaging me here, then caressing me there, before finally dipping a short way inside my wet love hole in search of my G-spot. My moans filled the room and I knew that I would not be able to hold back my impending climax for much longer. All that was needed was one last bit of stimulation.
“Oh, god... I am so close to cumming...” I moaned.
I did not have to wait long. The Blue Boy, sensing my eminent rupture, parted the sopping wet lips of my pussy with the forefinger and thumb of his left hand. He gently pinched my fully swollen clit
and rolled the bud between his digits. My reaction was immediate and violent. My body tensed for a long moment and then jerked furiously. A gush of my juices literally squirted across the bottom of his hand. I moaned loudly as he continued to rub my clit and milk every last bit of energy from my overwhelming climax.
I moaned loud and long. My body went limp. My back pressed flat against the mat. My hair, moist with perspiration, clung to my skin and hid my flushed face from view. I was only half conscious. I did not know where I was or even who I was. So powerful had my orgasm been that I did not know the real from the unreal, actuality from fantasy. Was I dreaming, I wondered? Or was this really happening?
But I knew that it was real. I knew because my tormentor continued to rub me. Despite my overwhelming orgasm, he continued to roll my swollen clit between his fingers. I thought that I might die as wave after wave of nearly unbearable sensations continued to flow over my exhausted form.
“I have never seen anyone react quite like this!” he said in amazement.
“You’re killing me!” I screamed in erotic agony.
“I almost believe you,” he replied in wonder. “But surely this cannot be!”
The sight of my overly aroused body, writhing on the mat in front of him, filled my tormentor
with a renewed lust. His fingers continued to manipulate my clit, pinching and teasing it until I thought that I might go completely out of my mind. Finally, he released my enraptured bud, though my relief was short lived. To my utter despair, the middle finger of his right hand slid inside my wet hole and clamped down on me. He grabbed me like he might a bowling ball, his fingers applying much more pressure than they previously had. My back arched and my hips came off the ground.
“Stop!” I cried. “Oh god, please stop!”
The Blue Boy removed his finger from my hole and placed his hands under my hips. He lifted me higher and then drove his face between my parted thighs. I moaned loudly as his tongue lapped across my womanhood. He was like a dog drinking from a bowl as he ate my pussy. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. My shackled hands fell down across my face. My distended breasts jiggled as he ravaged my helpless body.
My climax exploded across my body like a tidal wave, its bone jarring power a testament to the talent of my captor’s tongue. He held my hips aloft until the last of the spasms had run its course, then lowered me back to the ground. I lay perfectly still except for the heaving of my breasts as I gasped for air. My eyes remained closed. I lingered on the edge of consciousness.
To my dismay, the Blue Boy was not yet finished with me. I could feel his presence above my body. I could feel him positioning himself between my parted thighs. And although my abused pussy was nearly numb from over-stimulation, I could feel the tip of his hard member as it forced its way into my wet love hole.
My only protest was a soft, whimpering, moan. I no longer possessed even the strength to open my eyes. There was no way, I was sure, that I would be able to climax again. Yet the Blue Boy cared not for my condition. All he cared about was fulfilling his own, all consuming lust. His overpowering desire needed to be satisfied. His massive, fully erect, cock demanded satisfaction.
His large member slid inside my well-lubricated pussy easily. The fit was tight, but not uncomfortable. He took his time, enjoying the feel of me wrapped around him, penetrating me a bit more with each new thrust, until finally, with one last stab, he sheathed his sword fully within my warm basket.
His endurance was fantastic as he pumped his monstrous tool in and out of me for the next several minutes. He pounded my pussy without mercy. His pace was consistent and strong, slowing only occasionally as he fought to hold back his impending climax. It became clear to me that he did not want to come off quickly—Rather, my captor seemed to know that a second orgasm in so short a time would surely bring to an end his lust for me and, consequently, his fun.
The furious humping went on without relent for another two minutes. I moaned again as a now familiar tingle breached my fatigue. “Oh, no,” I thought. “I cannot survive another one.” But there could be no denying it—The feel of my captor’s stiff rod inside me was encouraging yet another orgasm to be stirred. The feel of his body on top of mine was once again arousing me. The feel of his hips between my thighs was making me hot. Once again, my back arched. Once again, I could feel the curse of the Sartak robbing my willpower and taking over my mind.
I had no thoughts of escape. I had barely the sense left to know what it was that was happening. Was I really Ms. Marvelous, I wondered? Or was this all a hallucination? It did not matter. All I could feel were the powerful sensations erupting from my sopping pussy. All I could think about was the hot dagger impaling my womanhood. All I could focus on was the heavy chest of my conqueror laying atop me and pressing against my rock hard nipples. Nothing else mattered, I knew. Nothing mattered but my impending orgasm.
It grew ever stronger, my climax, growing in intensity within me like an unstoppable force of nature. Yet it was not so strong or insistent as had the other two been, I knew, for those earlier orgasms had drained me of so much energy that surely there was little left. And those had not been the first, I remembered—The androids, too, had brought me off. How many times could I cum in a day, I wondered? How many times until the sensual shock in which I now existed became something altogether more final? How long until I died?
My attacker continued his assault on my defenseless body. His tempo increased and he rammed his power rod in and out of me with even more vigor. The memory of my battle with the androids flashed through my Sartak clouded mind. I moaned softly, helplessly, as I remembered how they had beaten me. I remembered how they had sucked on my nipples and milked me. Then I remembered more recent events, such as the chloroform rag being placed over my mouth. I remembered lying in the Blue Boy’s arms as he carried my limp body down the stairwell and into his room of bondage. I remembered how he had bound me in chains and drugged me.
The memory of him slowly inserting the strand of ceramic beads into my ass, and the knowledge that they were still there, added fuel to my already raging internal fire. The memory seemed as if from a time long ago, yet I could feel the beads still, pressing inside of me as surely as his huge cock filled my tormented pussy. I remembered the way he had rolled my swollen clit between his fingers and I remembered the unbearable agony that his tongue had caused. My breathing grew more frantic as I fantasized of him repeating all these things again. My vagina clamped down on his shaft as I tried desperately to absorb every last bit of pleasure from the monster penetrating me.
We came as if one, the hot force of his seed triggering my equally powerful climax. He gripped me tightly in his arms and our bodies heaved and swayed together until the last of our combined sexual energy was spent. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, and once again saw the twisted features of my sinister, evil, foe. He released his grip on me and rose up onto his knees. His still stiff cock came out of my love hole and slapped down on my costume above my pubes. His shaft was wet with our combined love juices. He wiped it off on me and laughed victoriously.
My eyes closed and I passed out with him still there, between my legs, laughing like a schoolboy who had just made love for the first time.
I awoke and sat up on the bed. I held my aching head in my hands and groaned before looking around.
“God, it’s hot... Where the hell am--”
To my astonishment, I was back in room eighteen of the Bluemoon hotel. The tacky lamp was on, though it barely cast enough light to see by. The door to the room still lay in pieces on the floor, though the open portal to the outside had done little to flush the hot and humid air from the place.
“At least the sun has set,” I stated aloud. “Maybe that will help it cool off some before--”
I tried to shake the cobwebs from my mind. “Never mind the heat,” I chided myself. What time was it? If the sun had set then it must be nighttime. But how had I arrived here? What the hell was going on?
I stood on shaky legs and looked about the room. An electric clock on the nightstand indicated that it was two o’clock in the morning. Had it all been a dream? Had I been here ever since losing my fight with the androids? Had I imagined the episode with the Blue Boy?
But a note next to the lamp confirmed that I was being overly hopeful. I raised the piece of paper and tried to focus my eyes on the writing.
“My dear Ms. Marvelous,
Thank you for fulfilling my every desire. You were everything for which I ever hoped and well worth, it turns out, the risk. I will always remember you fondly.
I do not know why it is that you reacted the way you did to our episode, though I can only imagine that it had something to do with an allergic reaction the drug that I injected into you. For a while there, after you lost consciousness, I worried that I might lose you. But as your breathing grew stronger, I decided that you were probably out of danger. I hope that your condition is but the result of a temporary episode and that you are able to recover fully.
Just so you know, I screwed you once more before bringing you back to the motel. I did not intend to, but as I removed the strand of beads from your ass you began to squirm and moan in the most irresistible way. I became aroused simply could not help myself. Sorry that you were not awake to experience the moment with me.
Because you are a super-heroine, it is likely that you will feel the need to seek revenge and come after me. I encourage you not to do so—Remember that I have the tapes. I am sure that you would not want this recording of our experience together to get out to the public. I consider the tapes my ace in the hole. Come after me and I will play this card, much to your embarrassment, I am sure.
By the way, I have returned your mask to you. You will find it on top of the television. Farewell, my beautiful dove-- I will always remember you as the best fuck I ever had.
Regards, The Blue Boy”
I wadded the paper in my hands and tried to hold back the tears. I was angry and humiliated. Most of all, I was exhausted. I walked to the television and picked up my mask. I gave it a quick shake to remove the remnants of my former captor’s dried semen. But I could not bring myself to put it on my face. I did not deserve it, I knew. I did not deserve to be Ms. Marvelous.
I felt weak and vulnerable. I was in a bad part of town and I did not have my powers. I would have to call Elle and have her come and get me. But then, somewhere in the distance, outside the motel room, I heard the sound of a police siren. I thought again of the Blue Boy. He impersonated a police officer to gain the trust of his victims. But he was not real. He was a fake. He perverted the uniform and ridiculed the badge of justice that every law officer proudly wears.
And in the end, I knew, justice would prevail. Good was always stronger than evil. I slowly lifted the mask to my face and smoothed the sheer fabric across my features. It hugged my flesh like an old friend and seemed to reassure me that I was, after all, worthy to wear it.
“You got the best of me this time, Blue Boy!” I shouted defiantly. “But tapes or no, we will meet again! And next time the result will be different!”
I stepped through the broken door and breathed deeply the cooling air of the night. My powers would eventually return, I knew, and then I would pursue my enemies. The mask is my badge, after all, and I am the Champion of Justice.