I awake in a windowless room. My eyes blink, trying to adjust to the dim light, trying to make sense of this strange place. I am lying on a stainless steel examination table. My long legs are tied together at the ankles and again just above the knees. A third length of rope is wrapped tightly around my wrists and holds them secure behind my back. My hands press into the small of my back, slightly arching my spine. I squirm atop the table and roll onto my left hip. A quick test of the ropes confirms that I am not nearly strong enough to break free.
“Where am I?”
My mind slowly clears. I dimly remember being whisked away from the Purring Kitten in the back of a pimped out limousine, my limp body sitting upright on a velvet seat and sandwiched between Benny Truiphant and Ursula Major. I shudder at the thought of the villainous pair taking liberties, their hands patiently exploring every hidden place on my slender and helpless figure. There is a distinct wetness between my legs. My body still tingles with arousal. I think that not much time has passed.
A ball-gag leaves my mouth dry and jaw sore. I try to sit up. The rope binding my wrists is tight. The bondage is sensual. It causes me to quiver with feelings of helplessness. The Sartak still controls me. It fills my mind with sexual imagery that weakens my resolve. I lie back on the table and try to subdue the feelings that dominate a once powerful body. But I remember all too clearly the massive orgasm that destroyed me in the pillow pit. My powers are gone. I am no longer a super-heroine. But for the costume that I wear, I am little more than an oversexed slut.
“Slut…” I groan in despair. “Just a slut…”
I want to cry but embarrassment helps me to choke back the emotions. It was not my doing, I remind myself. Not my fault. The orgasm had been forced. I had not wanted it. I had not wanted to climax. I had not wanted to be the centerpiece of a sex club orgy. But the thought of my breasts squirting and my pussy exploding fills me with uncontrollable shame. The memory of wrapping my lips around Benny’s cock and sucking him like a lollypop makes me wish I had never been born. “A slut… so unworthy… so unworthy to be called a super-heroine.”
Yet, worthy or not, I still wear the costume of a heroine. My captors have been kind—my breasts are once again covered and my mask is still in place. Except for the ropes that bind me, I still look like a champion of justice. I realize that even this, though, is part of Benny’s plan. He is going to sell me, auction me off to the highest bidder, and he knows that a valiant super-heroine will fetch a good price. The costume is simply packaging, a marketing gimmick meant to ensure that he receives the highest possible bid for his hard-earned prize.
And that is what I am, I realize dourly. A prize. The fight in the Purring Kitten was long and difficult and, in the end, I was beaten. Benny and his goons have won. It is over. A once-powerful woman warrior has been defeated. She has been raped. My humiliation is complete and now I will once again become a slave. I deserve this. I deserve to be sold into bondage.
“Don’t think like that!” an unexpectedly determined voice speaks inside my head. “Do not give up!”
I test the ropes again. Though I cannot break them—indeed, I realize that I would have a difficult time breaking them on my best day—I feel that a small bit of my strength is returning to my arms. Time is my ally, now. The longer I am allowed to rest, the more of my power will return. Now is not the time for self-doubt. If I am to escape, I need all the confidence that I can muster. I need to remember that what has happened to me is not my fault. I need to remember that people are counting on me. I need to remember that I am Ms. Marvelous.
I raise my head and examine the room more closely. It is a circular chamber, frightening in its coldness, probably underground. Several smaller rooms are attached. It is then that I recognize that the smaller chambers are actually holding cells. Cold iron bars block the doors. Inside each cell is a small cot and flimsy chair. The cells are empty, now, but I can easily imagine the young women that have been periodically imprisoned here while waiting for the next auction.
“So, this is it,” I think while choking back strong emotions. “This is the Syndicate’s headquarters, the last stop for young women who are destined for miserable lives of servitude and bondage!” I am not allowed to dwell on this awful realization for long. A door swings open to my left and a rectangular beam of white light penetrates the central room. My blue eyes blink rapidly as I try to make out the figures that are approaching. My shoulders droop. It is Benny and Ursula. A third figure follows close behind. To my surprise, it is Pete, the bartender from the Purring Kitten. He is still bare-chested and I cannot help but notice his magnificent physique.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says while giving me a wink. “This must be my lucky day!” He reaches for my face and peels away the black mask. “Yeah, just as I thought. You’re the same chick from the bar. Wait until I tell Darriz that he raped the great Ms. Marvelous!”
My heart sinks. It would have been better if Pete had not recognized me. I remember the way he pinned my hands to the bar as Darriz screwed me from behind. I remember the way his lips smothered mine with a passionate kiss. This man is as responsible for my capture as any other. Now, he knows my face. I want to make him pay. Unfortunately, I am in no position to do anything. He pushes me back down onto the table. Panic fills my eyes as he stands over my defenseless body. I grimace as a strong hand slides between my thighs and insistent fingers grope a moist slit.
“Mmmmrrrrpppphhhh!” I protest from behind the ball-gag.
“Don’t be like that, beautiful,” he says while flashing a movie star smile. “We have so little time to get to know one another. Wouldn’t you prefer to spend it as friends?”
I writhe helplessly on the table as experienced fingers test my womanhood. He presses the thin fabric of my costume deep between my nether lips. He gently strokes my clit. My back arches and I nearly come off of the table. Ursula’s powerful hands grip my shoulders and push me back down.
“That’s enough, Pete!” she commands. “There is no time for this. The auction will be starting in just a few minutes!”
“But we’ve got plenty of time!” the gorgeous bartender insists.
Benny Truiphant takes up a position on the opposite side of the table and looks down on my trembling body lustfully. In appearance, he is the exact opposite of Pete. He is not a bodybuilder but instead has the look of a drug addict. His build is slender. His cheeks are hollow. His skin is pot marked and hair greasy. He is a slimy and despicable wretch and just having him near me gives me the willies. But as he looks down at me he seems to agree with his more handsome counterpart.
“Relax, Ursula. Perhaps, she will fetch a higher price if we present her to the clientele in a state of enhanced arousal. It might make her more appealing, if you know what I mean.” His bony hands begin stroking my breasts, drawing gentle circles around my small cups. The shear fabric of my costume does little to dissuade his efforts or protect me from the rippling sensations that seem to pour out of his talented fingertips and plunge deep into my body. I close my eyes as he violates me. The man is a total sleazebag. It disgusts me to have him touching me. But I cannot help myself. He has fucked me before. I am vulnerable to him. It seems that he knows just how to caress my tits. A soft moan slips past the ball-gag. My body relaxes. Breathing grows heavy. Nipples get hard. Ursula pulls back the hair from my face and gently strokes the side of my neck. Yet, she does not seem to have the same interest in me that she once did. Though a lesbian, her fantasy has always been to defeat Ms. Marvelous in battle and then to fuck her in front of a group of spectators. This goal has been accomplished. She is less enthusiastic about ravaging the body of a bound and helpless prisoner. “We do not have time for this,” she says again. “Our clients will soon be contacting us in the room above. They will want to see the merchandise. It is not going to help us if she is covered in your drool.”
The boss removes his hands from my tormented tits. “Very, well, Ursula,” he finally agrees. “The two of us will attend to matters upstairs. Pete, you stay here and prepare Ms. Marvelous for the auction. Lube her up and make her look fetching, if you please. The smell of money is in the air, my friends! This is no mere college coed that we offer up. Today, we sell a super-heroine! Today, we make a fortune!”
I turn my head so that I can watch as Benny and Ursula depart. They close the door behind them and once again the light in the circular room grows dim. But Pete’s hand is still between my thighs, still stroking my wet slit. I raise my knees and try to roll away but he controls my weakened body easily. The ropes bite into my flesh as I try vainly to break free of their constricting grasp. My wrists press into my
lower back. The stainless steel table is cold and unforgiving. But I cannot feel any of this. All I can feel are the insistent fingers delving into my sensitive crotch. All I can feel is the brush of his digits against my tiny bulb. Over and over he rubs me. I squirm like a serpent atop the table. I writhe back and forth in a fruitless attempt to escape. But the sensations shooting through me are more than I can take. My pussy is lubricating. My nether lips are trembling. I moan loudly. My face contorts in agony.
At last, after enduring more than two minutes of his incredible touch, my struggles gradually come to an end. I fall back against the table and go limp. My conscious mind still fights against the unwanted sensations consuming my body but to little avail. My clitoris is fully engorged. Each new stroke across its surface brings me closer to a will-sapping orgasm. His hand is underneath my costume, now, rubbing me furiously, sliding deep between my labia, destroying me. I scream behind the ball gag, sure that I am about to be ruined, sure that this second orgasm will strip away my powers forever. “No! I must not climax! I must not--”
“Pete?” a scratchy voice interrupts. “Are you there?”
It is Ursula, speaking through an intercom system. The man sighs bitterly and removes his hand from between my legs. He walks to the wall and flicks a switch. He leans close to the intercom and answers. “Yes, I am here. What do you want?”
“Benny asked me to remind you to use the special lotion. We do not want any mistakes, understand? Ms. Marvelous may not be as weak as she appears.”
He looks back at me and leers. “Oh, I think she is pretty weak,” he says mockingly. “Nevertheless,” Ursula replies impatiently, “we do not want to take any chances. You will do as Benny asks and use the special lotion, yes? And replace her mask before bringing her to the stage. We want her to look her heroic best.”
“Yes, I will do as you ask. Anything else?”
“Just do not do anything stupid. She is not like most of the girls we process. She is a super heroine.”
Pete flicks off the switch and scowls. “Just don’t do anything stupid?” he says while mimicking Ursula’s deep, somewhat masculine voice. “Who does she think I am? Some rank amateur?” He returns to the table and puts the mask back on my face. He tilts my head and appraises his work, making sure the mask is straight and securely fastened. Satisfied, he reaches under the table and removes a bottle from a hidden shelf. My pussy is on fire and I pray that he does not resume the rubbing of my clit. Luckily for me, he seems to have something else in mind.
“Let’s get you ready,” he says while still leering. He unscrews the cap on the bottle and pours a thick liquid into the palm of his hand. He rubs it over my left leg, covering my tan flesh with a glistening layer of clear oil. He spreads it across the top and sides of my thigh and then lifts my leg so that he can reach underneath. He works his way over my knee and calf and lotions my boot so that every inch of my leg is completely covered. I can tell that he is enjoying his work. A large bulge protrudes from the crotch of his tight fitting latex pants.
“The lotion serves two purposes,” he explains while beginning to lube my right leg. “First, it accentuates the tone of your body and makes you look smoking hot, which should make you more appealing to the buyers and attract higher bids. Second, it contains a sedative that is gradually absorbed through your skin. The drug is strong and should keep you nice and calm during the auction. After all, we do not want the buyers to get scared off by an overly rambunctious slave.”
I whimper meekly as he pours a large glob of lotion atop my flat abdominal muscles and begins spreading it over my stomach and hips. My skin is tingling, though whether this is due to the sedative in the oil or the firm pressure applied by his hands, or more likely both, is hard to say. Gentle fingers slide down and across my slender waist. He grips me tight for a moment, nearly lifting me up off the table, before releasing my waist and moving on to lube my chest. He lingers long on the round curves of my breasts. The special fabric of my costume usually rejects dirt and stains but this poisoned oil seems to soak through and bond with the unstable molecules, encasing my entire body within a shimmering layer of wetness. He rubs it over my arms and shoulders. He lifts me into a sitting position and does my back. He rolls me onto my right hip and enjoys doing my ass. The feel of his hands rubbing me, all over my body, excites and arouses me. I cannot help myself. I do not protest as he rubs the oil deep between my
butt-cheeks. Part of me wants him to slide his hands between my legs again. Part of me wants him to bring me off. I know that a few rubs across my swollen clit will make me explode. He rolls me onto my back and lubes my firm breasts a second time. The feel of his fingers sliding over my hard nipples causes me to shiver. Oh, god… I am so horny that I ache. My head turns slowly from side to side in misery as he forces his hands underneath my costume and begins lathering my flesh. He rubs every part of me and it seems like it takes forever for him to finish. My cheeks turn red with shame. I cannot believe that this is happening to me. Tears come to my eyes as he caresses my nipples. I do not know what is more embarrassing, the fact that I am being violated in such a personal way or that I am so utterly helpless to prevent it. Maybe it is the knowledge that part of me wants it to happen, wants him to stroke my breasts, and that I am completely unable to control the reactions of my powerful but oversexed body. At last, just as I think that I might surrender entirely to the overwhelming sensations, he draws back his hands and carefully adjusts my costume. The oil feels incredible as it squishes between the tight-fitting fabric and my soft skin.
“I have been given an antidote,” he says while pouring some more oil into his hands. “That’s why the sedative does not affect me. It should be making you nice and docile, though.” Indeed, I am feeling very calm. My athletic body is relaxed. Long legs no longer fight against the ropes that bind them. The feeling of my wrists being pinned beneath my back is no longer uncomfortable. My breathing slows as more of the poisoned oil seeps into my pores. I feel kind of sleepy. I do not struggle as he lubes my neck and face and runs greasy fingers through my hair. He applies more oil and the golden tresses become matted to my scalp. Waves of long blond hair lay in thick, glistening clumps atop my shoulders. By the time he is done, every part of my body has been slicked down. My costume is soaked through and through. I can feel the sedative seeping into my skin and being absorbed into my bloodstream. My head is beginning to spin. Vision becomes blurry.
Pete caps the bottle and returns it to its place beneath the examination table. He stands over me and admires his work. My body glistens. Every muscle is highlighted. Every curve and bump on my body shimmers. His hands, wet with oil, slide easily across the length of my five-foot nine-inch figure. He buffs and rubs me like a boy polishing his first car. But his desire to rub my clit and play with my breasts is quickly replaced by another desire, one that burns nearly out of control. His cock is about to tear a hole in his pants. He wants to pleasure himself. He wants to fuck me. The urge is almost uncontrollable.
“Better not,” he says while somehow forcing his hands away from my lithe and enticing body. “The auction is only a few minutes away and Benny wouldn’t like it.”
But I know from the look in Pete’s eyes that he is suffering. My super-charged pheromones are driving him crazy. The sight of my greased body, long and lean and shiny, is pushing him over the edge. I look up at him with wide, innocent blue eyes that practically beg him to mount me. I arch my back a bit more and shimmering tits jut high into the air. I writhe on the table enticingly and tilt back my head to expose a long and graceful neck. I moan ever so softly, tempting him to take action. “Jesus!” he groans through gritted teeth.
His hands are all over me, gliding across my breasts and downward over my stomach. Hungry fingers draw lines along the tops of my thighs while reaching for my knees. He hurriedly unties the first rope and then moves to my ankles. Frustration distorts handsome features as he struggles with the knot. At last, the rope comes free. My legs come apart and he is on the table in an instant, sliding between glistening thighs, hovering above a shimmering stomach like a cougar over its defenseless prey. I try to act, try to defend myself, but it is difficult. The drugged lotion is having a noticeable effect on my body. I am groggy. But I am also incredibly aroused. A sopping pussy yearns for satisfaction. Hard nipples want to be suckled. More so than the poisoned oil, the erotic sensations burning through my athletic figure keep me weak. I feel like a woman waking from a sensual dream. Disoriented but excited. Sleepy but turned on.
But no matter how much I may want it, I cannot allow Pete to screw me. My legs are free. It was a mistake for him to untie me and now I have to take advantage of what might be my final opportunity. If only I can summon the strength. If only I can summon the willpower.
“Come on, girl! Be strong!”
The sound of Pete’s zipper forces me to focus. I raise my head and watch as he pulls back a flap of cloth covering his crotch. The long piece of stiff timber that he unleashes over my belly is truly
impressive. Twinges of fear light up my nervous system as he slaps it down across my oiled flesh. His fingers pull back the fabric of my bikini bottom as he positions himself for a first thrust at my exposed and open hole.
“Mmmmrrrrpppphhhh!” I cry out while raising my left leg and slamming a knee into his ribs. “Mmmm uuuhhhh mmmm mmm!”
The blow is weak but it gets the job done. Pete, off balance, reaches for something to grab onto. His hands, slick with oil, slide off the edges of the table and he falls awkwardly to the floor. I shimmy off the other side and we both stand, the table between us, our eyes locked in an angry stare-down.
“So, you’re going to make me work for it, are you?” he says with a wicked grin. He grips his cock in his right hand and waves it at me. It is thick and heavy and we both know that if he impales me with it then I will be finished. “That’s fine, super girl. I like it that way!”
The ball gag prevents me from issuing a witty rejoinder so instead I raise a foot and kick the table into my arrogant foe. It crashes into his legs and sends him sprawling to the floor. A series of fuming curses greet me as I rush forward to deliver a second kick, this one to his gut. Pete is a weightlifter, though, and able to endure some punishment. He pushes me back and scrambles to his feet in time to block an ill timed crescent kick. Before I know what is happening, his hands are tightening around my throat and lifting me off of the ground.
“Cunt!” he yells at me. “After all the free drinks I gave you back at the bar, is this the way you treat me?”
But despite his accusations, I have not forgotten the drugged ginger ales that Pete gave me back at the Purring Kitten. In fact, the memory of his leering face as he leaned over the bar and kissed me fills me with rage. For the moment, though, I have more immediate things to worry about. The good news is that my legs are untied and I am off of the examination table. The bad news is that my wrists remain bound behind my back and I am covered in a drugged lotion. I am held off the ground by my neck and finding it difficult to get a breath. Pete is a big man and is able to hold me easily. I can sense his monster cock bobbing up and down just below me. Knowing that it is there, so near to my womanhood, nearly makes me panic. But I have to keep it together long enough to save myself. There will be no awards for second place in this fight. I have to win.
Pete is a strong man but his hands are slick with oil. I rotate my hips and twist my body. My neck comes loose and I drop back to the floor. A knee strike narrowly misses his nut sack but manages a good score against the top of his left thigh. He yelps in pain and gives me the back of his hand in return. The blow turns my head around and sends me to the ground. I land in a heap and am once again reminded that I am far from being at full strength. There is little chance that I can break the rope holding my wrists. But maybe, if I am lucky, I can stretch it enough to slide my hands free. They are greased up and slippery. Some of the oil has probably rubbed into the rope. “Oh, please!” I hope silently. “Please let me get free!”
I rise to my knees. I use every bit of my strength. Pete is standing over me, preparing to finish me off. My right hand comes free just as he clocks me. The blow scores on my temple and I skid across the floor like a greased pig on a frozen pond. But I am far from finished. I climb quickly to my feet. My left wrist slides free of the rope and I throw the knotted cord into my attacker’s face. I yank the ball gag
out of my mouth and take a deep breath. I work my jaw from side to side and wonder how Pete will like it when I jam the ball into his mouth. But there is only one thing on his mind. A glance down at his stiff cock confirms that he is as horny as ever.
“It is not over, yet,” he snarls. “The lotion may have allowed you to slip out of the rope but the sedative should be making you as weak as a little kitten. I’ll have you trussed up again in no time!” He charges me like a mad bull, his arms stretched wide to prevent my escape. But I have no desire to escape. I meet his attack head on and deliver a beautiful elbow strike. It connects just above his left eyebrow and opens a nasty gash. Blood spurts down his face as he steps back. His eyes are glassy. His cock goes limp. I grab his head in both hands and pull downward. My right knee slams against his movie star face. He falls backward and lands hard on the floor. Pete the Bartender is finished. The victorious feeling of elation that washes over me is quickly replaced by dizziness. I drop to my knees and hold a wobbling head in my hands. I sway back and forth. The sedative is affecting me, I realize. But I have to keep it together. I have to escape this madhouse. My eyes clear as Ursula’s voice crackles through the intercom once more.
“Pete? The guests have arrived. I’m sending Green and Gold down to help you with the merchandise. Please have her ready.”
I quickly get to my feet. I grab Pete’s shirt by the collar and drag his limp body across the floor and into one of the holding cells. It takes most of my strength just to lift him up and dump him on the cot. I prop him against the wall and duck back outside. I lift the examination table back to an upright position. The bottle of drugged lotion and a number of other items are scattered haphazardly across the floor but there is no time to clean up. The door to the chamber opens and the bright light beams in. I duck down and try to make myself invisible. Two slender figures approach. A pair of Benny’s battle angels call Pete’s name.
“There he is,” one of them says after spotting him inside the holding cell. They walk past the table and somehow miss seeing me. They enter the cell and try to jostle the bartender back to consciousness. “Pete? You ok? Where’s the girl? Where’s Ms. Marvelous?”
He groans a warning but not before it is too late. I slam shut the iron door to the holding cell and let out a sigh of relief as the latch drops into place. “That should hold you,” I say while giving the stout bars a quick shake to make sure that they are secure.
Green and Gold are furious. They scream at me to let them out but I just smile and wave a fond farewell. They can shout their heads off for all I care. Nobody is going to hear them down in this underground prison. I exit the chamber and cross my fingers. Hopefully, I can find a back door to this place and get the heck out of here. It has been a long night. A girl’s luck has got to change eventually, doesn’t it?
Unfortunately for me, the source of the bright light soon becomes apparent and it does not bode well for me. I climb a short staircase and emerge in the center of a small stage of some kind. Overhead lights beam down at me. A television camera peers intently at my athletic figure. Numerous screens are positioned in front of the stage. One of the screens, the largest of the bunch, reflects my image back at me. The others display the jovial faces of men whom I have never seen before. It is clear that they are able to see me. Sinister eyes stare lecherously at my body.
“Ah, here she is at last!” a graying man speaking with a German accent exclaims. “So, it is true! Mr. Truiphant has actually managed to capture the intrepid Ms. Marvelous!”
“She does not look to be a prisoner,” a Russian speaking from one of the other screens replies. “Why has Benny not restrained her?”
A third screen displays the image of a man in a flowing white turban. “I expect Mr. Truiphant to deliver her to my harem hogtied, as is appropriate for a slave,” he says while clearly enjoying the sight of my shimmering, wet body.
“You have not purchased her yet, Sheik,” the German answers. “I believe that I may be willing to pay quite a large sum for such a beauty.”
“My bid shall ultimately be the highest!” a man speaking from a fourth screen replies. He has a snobbish French accent that sends a chill up my spine. “I can hardly wait to add her to my collection!” “None of you shall have me!” I shout defiantly. “I am not a piece of property that you can buy and sell!”
This statement causes the men to laugh. My cheeks burn red in anger as they continue to stare hungrily at me through the lens of the camera. In infuriates me that my image is being transmitted around the world so that these evil men can squabble among each other for the right to fulfill their lurid fantasies of possessing a super-heroine. I will not be their slave! I will not be their whore!
But though I cannot strike at them, there are still other outlets for my anger. I see them in the center screen, the one that shows my image, sneaking up behind me, Ursula and the Red Angel, trying to get the jump on me. I feign ignorance, letting them think that I am unaware of their presence, then spin and snap a pair of kicks that throttle their assault. Red Angel feels the brunt of my counterattack and is quickly felled by a spinning roundhouse. She drops off of the stage like a wilted flower and does not move.
“Now it is just you and me, Ursula!” I say while taking a fighting stance. “I will make you pay for your crimes!”
The big redhead pounds a fist into her palm and scowls. “Bring it on, super-wench! It is only right that we have a third go at it! You won the first time and I was victorious in the second. This battle will decide which of us is truly the top female in Megapolis!”
“Oh, how exciting!” the Arab exclaims.
“Magnificent!” the German agrees. “A catfight!”
“Five thousand Euros on Ursula!” the Frenchman offers.
“I accept you wager and take Ms. Marvelous,” one of the others answers.
Other wagers fly back and forth as Ursula and I warily circle one another. The muscles of her arms and shoulders ripple with strength. Emerald eyes stare at me coldly. Cover-girl features are tense but confident. Her hands flex as if eager to grab a hold of me. I let her make the first move, knowing that she will try to get me in a submission hold. But my lithe body is slick with oil. Her hands slide off and I duck to the side. A chop to her liver causes the big girl to yelp.
“I may not be at full strength,” I say while moving away, “but I have enough energy to beat you!” “Then you will have to hit me a lot harder than that,” she answers coyly. “I’m not some barroom dancer that you can throw around!”
I glance at her tight-fitting leather chaps and smile. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“You’re one to talk,” she says while leering at my own scantily clad figure.
I launch myself at her with the intention of driving my fist through her smug face. The blow lands but does not have much behind it. She moves with the speed of a cat and grabs my wrist. She pulls me close and wraps her arms around my waist. Viselike muscles tighten. She lifts me off of the ground. Steely knuckles dig into the small of my back. I gasp as air is forced from constricted lungs. “Now, I have got you!” she snorts while locking in the hold.
I grimace as waves of pain ripple up and down my spine. Her strength is amazing. I feel as if I am being crushed. I lift my hands to the sides of her head and try to jab my thumbs into the soft spots behind her ears, as I did the first time we battled. She shakes her head and foils my attempt. My back arches painfully as she squeezes even harder.
“Not this time, Ms. Marvelous!”
My hands grip her shoulders. I stare into her face, trying to detect some weakness or fatigue. There is none. This woman is a powerhouse. I feel as if I might be losing it, as if the world is going dark. But I am not finished just yet. My left hand pushes upward on the point of her chin. My right karate chops her across the windpipe. Her grip loosens. I chop her again and her hands come apart. I drop back to the floor. Before she can recover, I slide behind her and mount her six-foot body from behind. My arms wrap around her head and neck. My legs wrap around her waist. Now it is I that am in control. I squeeze with everything that I have. We remain still for several seconds, as if a sculpture carved from marble, two woman warriors locked in desperate combat. I do not know if she realizes what is happening. I do not know if she feels the flow of blood being cut off from her brain or the flow of air being cut off from her lungs. Those amazing eyes, green and bright, slowly go dim. Her struggles grow weak. Finally, Ursula Major crumples like a house of cards, my legs still wrapped around her, my hold still in place around her neck.
Her body is limp beneath me. Somehow, I have emerged as the victor. The men on the screens, those that wagered against me, groan in disappointment. But in my weakened condition, it is a miracle that I won. I did what I had to do, the only thing that I could do. And I was lucky. Now, if only my luck will hold out a bit longer--
I feel the cold touch of steel on my neck. It clamps down over my skin. I hear a click as the loop of metal fastens closed. A sharp yank snaps my head back and confirms that I have been collared. “Not so fast, slave!” a familiar but hated voice says contemptuously from behind me. “You may have beaten Ursula and disposed of my lackeys but I still have every intention of proceeding with this auction! I will have my money and be rid of you!”
It takes me a moment to get my legs untangled from around Ursula’s limp body. I stand and turn around. The fingers of my left hand claw at the collar. Those of my right grip the taught chain fastened to it. My eyes stare angrily down a ten-foot length of steel links and spy the man holding tightly to the other end. “I knew you were around here somewhere, Benny! It was just a matter of time before you revealed
yourself! But now that you have, I am going to put you out of business for good!”
He laughs at my bravado and gives the chain a tug that nearly sends me sprawling. “You’re weak, Ms Marvelous! The drugged lotion is making you slow and clumsy! I do not know how you got past Pete and my battle angels, but you will not get past me. I know how to beat you! I did it before and I can do it again. I am going to fuck the hell out of you and then sell you to the highest bidder!” “Wonderful!” says the German.
“Magnificent!” exclaims the Arab.
“Sensational!” agrees the Frenchman.
I am about to tell them all where they can go when Benny pulls hard on the chain and begins pulling me around the stage. I lose my balance and the next thing I know I am on the floor and being spun around in a wide circle. I tear at the collar, trying to relieve the pressure on my neck, but to no avail. My body slides and rolls from one side of the stage to the other. When I finally come to a stop my head is spinning. Benny takes up the slack on the chain and moves in behind me. He pulls me up into a sitting position between his feet. He wraps the chain around my body several times, lashing my arms to my body.
“Stop it!” I protest.
“He has got her, now!” one of the men on the screens observes needlessly.
“Ah, yes, this should be good. I hear that Benny is quite a talented fucker, for an American. It will be interesting to see how such a virtuous young woman responds to being violated by such a, ahem, beast of a man.”
Benny grips me by the hair and forces my head back so that I am looking up at him. “You responded quite well the last time I fucked you, didn’t you beautiful? You do remember, don’t you?” I blush uncontrollably, the memory of this man raping me being all too vivid in my mind. He is a sleazebag, a total and completely repulsive example of humanity, but I cannot seem to help myself when in his presence. My body is tingling and not just from the drugged lotion that covers me in a thin layer of glistening wetness. I remember our first encounter, how Benny took me from behind, his arms wrapped around my body and his hands smothering my breasts. I remember how his stiff cock felt as it penetrated deep into my body and filled every part of my aching pussy. I remember how he quickly brought me to the point of no return, that point when my conscious mind was swallowed up by erotic thoughts and desires, and when the orgasm exploded across my helpless body like a tidal wave of guilty pleasure and shameful ecstasy. The indignity of it was crushing but I had not cared. I had been unable to control the feelings of my body, unable to subdue to sensations washing over me. I had wanted him inside of me, thrusting in and out of me like a crazed animal, until that moment when he finally deposited his hot load and forever made me his sexual plaything.
“No!” I whimper as the memory of it nearly consumes me. “Not again!”
He drags me to the center of the stage so that all of his customers can have a good look at the merchandise. My defeat is to be transmitted across the globe. Benny is going to fuck me into submission and then sell me to the highest bidder.
“Gentlemen,” he says while glancing at the camera, “allow me to demonstrate the talents of this gorgeous hose bag.”
He tightens the loops of chain, causing the steel links to constrict just below my breasts and hold me secure. He tugs on the collar, tilting my head back so that it is pinned between his thighs. He unzips and allows a long and quickly stiffening shaft of meat to fall into my blonde hair. It rests heavily atop my head and I feel it getting hard. It grows longer and I soon see the tip poking forward above my forehead. “No!”
“A proud and manly instrument!” the Frenchman comments.
“Should get the job done quite well,” the Russian agrees.
But most of the faces displayed on the screens remain silent, too absorbed in the moment to say anything. Eager eyes peer outward, consuming my bound figure as I lay in front of them. My long legs are bent at the knees and angled forward. My arms remain pinned to my sides. The loops of chain press tightly against my abdomen and lift my firm breasts high on my chest. There is a look of hopelessness painted on my face as my captor playfully bounces his now fully erect cock on top of my head. He knows that he has me. The only question is what he is going to do to me.
“I rather liked it when you sucked my dick back at the Purring Kitten,” he says while looking down into my wide blue eyes. “Would you like to do it again?”
He tilts my head back yet further and slides his cock down across my face. It is like a hot spike as he drags it over my blushing cheeks. He gives the collar a hard yank when I try to pull away. The fat tip touches my soft lips and I seem to lose the ability to move. It rests there, velvety soft, like a forbidden fruit that I must not taste. I try to keep my mouth closed but another tug on the chain causes me to gasp and for a brief moment my lips come apart. The fiery brand slips just inside my mouth, brushing against the front of my teeth, and as my lips close they embrace it like an old friend, giving it a quick and involuntary kiss.
“Nuuhh uuhh!” I protest while jerking my head to the side, but the damage is done. My nipples suddenly harden as the tingling of arousal grows stronger inside me. The feel of his cock, still brushing hotly against my cheek, quickly takes its toll on my willpower. It makes me feel helpless. It makes me feel as if I am at his mercy.
“You like that, don’t you, beautiful? You want some more? Come on, super-slut. Give daddy’s dick another kiss!”
I know that I have to do something and I have to do it right away. I may be vulnerable to Benny but the leering faces of the men on the screens fill me with disgust. How dare they watch as this happens to me? How dare they watch as I am violated? A desire to destroy the television camera consumes me. But in order to get to it I must first get past Benny. And to get past Benny, I have to get to my feet and unwrap this chain from around my body. Moving as fast as I can, I roll onto my left hip and then up onto my knees. The movement leaves me facing Benny and staring directly into the single eye of his stiff snake, which is a bad thing, but it also loosens the chain, which is good one. Before he can react, I jump to my feet and prepare to drive a knee into his groin—
“Not so fast!” he shouts while jerking the chain forward and causing me to grunt. He pulls my face close to his and stares angrily into my eyes. “Still some defiance left in you, huh? Well, we can do something about that!”
Almost before I realize what is happening, Benny’s right hand is sliding down across my oiled stomach and underneath my bikini bottom. I try to pull away but he continues to tightly grip the chain with his left hand, controlling me with the collar. His right hand, now under my costume, slides into my gap. I grasp his wrist with both hands but it is too late. My mouth contorts into a girlish pout as his middle digit penetrates deep into my wet slit. He rubs my clit tortuously and I instinctively rise up on my tiptoes. My grip on his wrist loosens. My hands fall away. He rubs my clit a second time and I moan like a virgin being touched for the first time. He pulls my body close to his and his erect cock presses against my belly. It slides over my flesh and becomes slick with the same oil that lubes every square inch of my lithe figure. His finger delves still deeper into my slit, sliding slowly between my pussy lips and near to my hole. We continue to stare into one another’s eyes-- his gleam victoriously while mine tear in humiliation.
Benny can tell that there is not much fight left in me. He releases the chain holding the collar and draws his left hand down over my shoulder. He seems to like the oil, likes the way it feels as he slides his fingers across my body and fondles my skin. He patiently turns up the flap of fabric that covers my right breast. He likes the way that my nipple swells as he plays with it. He likes the way that it juts outward as he squeezes my boob. He smiles, enjoying the look of anguish painted on my face as he squeezes still harder. My arms remain at my sides, pinned by the loops of chain wrapped around my body. I am not resisting him.
“No…” I plead weakly. “Please… do not…”
“Hush,” he answers. “I am merely teaching you how to be a good slave.”
His finger is inside my love hole, now, testing my readiness. He can feel how wet I am. He can feel my body shudder as he probes ever deeper inside me. My breathing is ragged. I moan uncontrollably. I am dimly aware that the men on the screens are still watching. My attempt to escape, if only long enough to disable the camera, has been a total failure. I feel as if I am being ravaged not only by Benny but also by the men on the screens. They are making love to me with their eyes, all of them, all in different parts of the world, each with a different but similar fantasy, and each with an ever growing desire to be in Benny’s place.
My captor seems able to read my thoughts. “I am going to make a fortune off of you,” he says with a smug, self-assured smile. “You are going to make me a wealthy man.”
His finger comes out of my hole. He releases my tit. He tightens the chain around my body and turns me toward the camera. I say nothing as he lowers me to my knees and pushes me forward. My hands are pinned against my hips and I fall onto my face and shoulders. My long legs are folded beneath me. I sense him kneeling behind me, his legs embracing mine, and feel him pulling back the fabric of my bikini bottom. His cock is like a burning piece of iron as it brushes against my ass. It slides through the oil that covers my costume and skin, branding me. He leans down atop me, using his weight to pin me to the floor. He uses his left hand to guide the tip of his cock toward my love hole. Oh, god… I can feel it now… pressing against me and sliding between my nether lips. It is wet from the oil of his hands, lubricated with the oil from my body. It is inside of me, one inch and then another, penetrating me easily, sapping what remains of my strength and willpower. I cannot breathe. Three inches in and then four, and I think that I am going to die. Five inches, deep inside me, a burning rod of fire, ending the last of my resistance. Six inches, pulsating, embraced by a tight but eager pussy. Seven inches, my master, filling me, owning me. “Uuuunnnnhhhhh… stop… aaaagggghhhh…”
His weight is crushing me to the floor, forcing my knees to slide outward, spreading my legs. His right hand pulls back on the chain, lifting my head and arching my back. His power rod burns inside of me. I am in utter misery. His left hand grips my arm. He holds me close, pressing his chest against my back, smothering me. His face in is my hair, his breath hot against my left ear. He begins thrusting, rocking back and forth, obliterating me. His pelvis slaps against my ass. It seems that I no longer possess a conscious, thinking mind. All I can sense and feel are the burning waves of lust and desire that want to consume every part of me. Uuunnnhhh… the sensations are too much for me to withstand. All to quickly, I can feel my orgasm approaching. I am helpless to control it. All to quickly, my body is surrendering to the inevitable. With each new thrust, I draw closer to the ultimate defeat. With each new penetration, I become less a super-heroine and more a slave.
“Noooooo… can’t take it… stop… oh, god… stop…”
But I sense something else, something unexpected. The oil on his cock is now inside of me, spreading through my pussy, mixing with my own, natural lubricants. It is carries a sedative and numbs me ever so slightly. The sensations that I am experiencing, though devastating, are not as strong as they might otherwise be. The Sartak, my weakness to sensual stimulation, is not as powerful as it was before. The orgasm is not as immediate. My body, it seems, is willing to resist this man. If only my mind can also be convinced to resist.
I close my eyes and try to concentrate. I try to look past the erotic images that burn so vividly in my psyche. I try to ignore the sexual fantasies that are sweeping through my thoughts. But, oh, god… he is so deep inside of me. Each thrust of his huge cock fills me to overflowing. I moan in agony as he penetrates me over and over again. My hard nipples jut outward like cherries. I am so wet, so close to coming. The tips of my fingers dig into the flesh of my hips. My toes curl. His motions become slower, more violent. He struggles for breath. He is pounding me, giving me everything that he has. My tight pussy aches. I scream. My climax is so close. I cannot take much more—
He rams his cock into me one last time, giving me every inch and then exploding within my depths. His semen burns like hot shame, streaming into my body with amazing force and quickly filling me beyond capacity. Fluid spurts from my hole, escaping from beneath his shaft, a frothy mixture of oil and love juices that drip to the floor and form a small pool beneath me. He collapses atop my back, exhausted, and I feel his cock slowly shrinking inside of me. I try to breathe, try to subdue the sensations that still rage within me. “Must not climax,” I groan to myself. “Must not let this be the end!”
Finally, after what seems like a long time, he rises off of me and exhales. He pulls me up by the collar, into a kneeling, upright position, and reaches around my shoulders to grasp my chin. He forces my head up so that I am looking into the camera. The side of his face presses against mine as he speaks to the viewers.
“Alright, gentlemen,” he says with a sinister smile. “Let’s get this auction started. What say we begin with a bid of one hundred thousand American dollars. Any takers?”
“I will bid one hundred,” the Frenchman begins.
“One fifty,” the German counters.
Benny rises to his feet and slides his wilted cock back into his pants. He zips up as the bidding continues. Two hundred thousand is bid and then two twenty five. He tugs on the chain and keeps me close to his right leg. I am like his pet, a faithful dog, perhaps. But my anger is building. With each new bid, I become more indignant. I wonder again at the other young women that have been forced to endure this humiliation. How many young girls, many of them not even out of their teens, has Benny done this to? How many more will have to suffer before he is finally stopped? Who is going to stop him if not me? Who is going to stop him if I end up in France or Germany or Arabia?
I get my right foot under me. I rise up with a swift, fluid motion, knocking Benny off balance. A spinning heel kick knocks the chain from his hands. A side thrust kick hammers him in the gut and sends him to the floor. With a mixture of anger and desperation I convulse to and fro like a madwoman, finally writhing free of the coils of steel links that were wrapped around my body. I grasp the television camera in both hands and give my suitors one last close-up of my face.
“The auction is over!” I shout. “I am a free woman! I am no man’s slave!”
I hurl the camera end over end, smashing it into a wall. The picture on the center screen flickers and then goes black. The other screens remain active long enough for me to see the disappointment on the faces of my bidders. But they know that they shall never have me. One by one, the screens go dark as the buyers log off.
“You bitch!” Benny screams behind me. “I might have gotten three hundred thousand for you!” “You have taken all from me that you shall have,” I reply while facing him. “Your time as a white slaver has come to an end!”
He is on his feet and walking toward me. I can tell that he thinks he can take me. He wants to get a hold of the chain, again. He wants to get control of my collar. But I am tired of being treated like a dog. I can use the chain, too. I lift it off of the floor and hold it in my hands. He charges me, determined to take me down, maybe thinking that he can rape me a again. I dodge to the side and avoid his groping hands. I wrap the chain around his chest and spin him around. I loop it around him a second time and pull it tight. He struggles and nearly pulls away. I am too weak to hold him. His left hand gets free and cops a feel on my right tit. He pinches my nipple and I nearly surrender to the agonizing sensations. But I cannot fail. Not now. I will not be violated by this man ever again.
“No!” I shout while slapping his hand away.
“Give it up, slut!” he demands while sliding his hand between my legs. “You know that you cannot resist this!”
My knuckles crack off of his chin and his eyes glaze over. His fingers linger in my gap, rubbing my swollen clit one final time before falling away. My abused pussy tingles but I am once again in control of my feelings. I tighten the chain around him and lead him away, down the stairs and back into the dungeon, below. There is a holding cell there, waiting for him. Ursula and Red Angel will soon join him.
I return to the stage and, finally alone, collapse onto the floor and rest. I am exhausted but victorious. I will eventually call the police and let them know that the Syndicate leaders need to be picked up. I will call Joel Steiner and let him know that I am ok. But for now, I just want to rest. And as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, I think again of how close I came to becoming a slave. But I am not a slave. I am Ms. Marvelous. I am a heroine forever.