WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING
This story is adult material and may contain all (and almost definitely contains some) of the following:
If any of this stuff offends you, or if you are underage, DON'T READ it. STOP NOW! You have been warned.
However, if you are of legal age and are enough of a pervert to actually enjoy all that stuff, read on and enjoy. The author welcomes all comments, criticisms, and suggestions but people interested in censorship or moral judgements will be vigorously ignored . :)
The people, places, characters, and events depicted in this story are completely and utterly the product of the author's twisted mind and any similarity to persons living or dead, real or fictional is purely coincidental.
The author does not encourage nor condone the attempted duplication or repetition of any of the acts depicted herein or any variation thereof, as some of them are really nasty!
WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING
It was a Saturday afternoon in July and Marcus Darke sat alone in a darkened office on the uppermost level of his massive estate. He was a fabulously rich man, to be sure. He was married to an incredible woman, had a beautiful and talented daughter, and was in complete control of the largest sexual slavery operation in the world. He had his pick, day or night, or the most beautiful, spirited, or submissive women in the world at his merest whim, to use and abuse as he pleased. To all appearances, he had everything a man could want. But despite all of this, on this particular Saturday, Marcus Darke was not a happy man.
He sat behind a large oak desk with his feet up, resting comfortably, tilted back in a big black leather desk chair. On the table before him sat a small slide projector, focusing an image on the wall directly in front of him. He held the remote casually in his hand as he smoked a Cuban cigar, and examined the source of his displeasure.
On the screen, the image was of a beautiful woman. A truly extraordinary woman, in Darke's opinion. She was dressed all in black latex, or perhaps it was patent leather, Darke could not be sure, but it was black and shiny and accentuated her form very nicely. The costume consisted of thigh high boots, tiny belted bikini-type bottoms, a bustier, long tight gloves, a thin choker and a mask. He let his eyes drift over every inch of her. The picture showed her talking to a policeman, and he could see she wore black lipstick to match her outfit. With an eye for detail, he noted her eyes, green as emerald with a tiny hint of cat-like shape to them. He made a particular mental note of that feature, before letting his gaze wander to her auburn hair coming just past the shoulders. At her side, she held a long metal pole, a staff. A deadly weapon in the hands of a master, and he knew this woman was a true master of many, many weapons.
The entire outfit gave a very cat-like appearance, and Darke knew that this was entirely intentional, as was the sexually appealing nature of the costume. This was the cause of his bad spirits this day, and her name (or so she was publicly known) was Catgirl.
He took one last look, drinking in the sight of his enemy, and had just clicked onto the next slide when the door opened, and he turned, squinting his eyes against the light outside.
"Are you busy, my love?"
It was Linda. Darke's wife and soul-mate was a tall, slender woman with long curly black hair. Her figure was not voluptuous, but every inch of her was firm and soft, just the way Darke liked. She worked hard to keep herself that way, and she made almost a game of showing herself off around him in clothing that turned the heads of men and women alike wherever they went.
Today, she wore a long black cloak wrapped closed around her, but as she walked into the room, Darke caught a few quick glimpses underneath. Just as she had intended, he knew.
"No, no, dear. Come in."
The image on the screen showed a woman standing outside some kind of club or bar. The sign over the place announced "O'Leary's" in bright neon green. In the background, behind the woman, a Police officer could be seen with his arm around a young woman wrapped in a blanket over to a waiting Police car.
The woman in the foreground of the picture was a beautiful young woman with straight black hair, and red eyes that almost glowed. She wore an outfit of red leather that could make a hooker blush. It was designed like a one-piece bathing suit with a high collar, except that large sections of the upper breasts and all of the stomach were cut out and replaced by nylon fishnet mesh. The girl wore fishnet stockings, as well, and high stiletto-heeled red patent leather ankle boots.
Linda walked in and sat down on the edge of the desk facing the movie screen upon which Catgirl's image still stood.
"Isn't that Melt? What are you doing looking at that bitch?", Linda asked. There was no jealousy in her voice, as she and her husband had often shared other lovers. Although, perhaps lovers isn't quite the right word. One of the things that brought them together in the first place was their mutual sadism, and many a victim had found, to their horror, had met their ends at the hands of the Darke's.
"We lost O'Leary's pub. I don't know how they found out about it, but they raided it yesterday. Twenty-four slaves down the tubes, and six of our operatives taken in by the police."
Linda's face grew thoughtful. It was not the first dungeon they had lost. O'Leary's had been a good cover, though, and it would definitely hurt to lose it. There was no doubt, of course, who "they" were.
Darke clicked the next picture. It was almost the same scene, except this shot was a close up of the door. It must have been taken with a telephoto lens, because Darke knew his operative at the scene would never risk being noticed by crossing the police line for a closer shot.
Coming out of the doorway, was a large, black woman. She was large in stature, but certainly not fat. She must be at least six foot five, Darke guessed. The woman was a true giantess with long flowing wavy white hair, looking somewhat straggly behind her. But her hair was white, not blonde-white, but truly white, like snow. The woman wore an outfit of all blue; Halter top, leotard bottoms, shoes, a mask and a small piece of blue ribbon around her right upper arm and left upper leg with small loose ends dangling from them. Despite her musculature, the woman managed to maintain an extremely attractive and feminine air about her, and her shape was not so muscular that one could possibly ever mistake her for a man.
Dark knew that her size was deceptive, for as large as she was, Buff, as she was called, was far stronger than she looked. He had heard stories, and seen news reports where she lifted large automobiles with little to no effort.
Darke broke the silence, "Anyway, I came in here to get some insight on these Femme 4 bimbo's. I've been hoping they would get bored, or that our new security measures would deter them, but they're too stupid to know when to quit, so I've been doing some investigating."
Linda's expression was puzzled, "Investigating what?"
"Why, how to capture the little tramps and put an end to their meddling once and for all, of course. And...", Darke paused for effect, teasing his wife until she broke down finally.
"And!?!"
"And... I think I may have a plan."
He clicked to the final photograph, and saw a young woman standing beside a police car talking to another woman who was sitting in the back of the car. The woman inside was covering herself in a blanket and hardly even looking at the woman outside.
This last member of the Femme 4 called her Psi. She was a tiny little thing. More than just petite. But yet her small size hid an incredibly well-defined physique. Once could see just from the easy grace with which she moved that she was in perfect physical shape. He slim, almost boyish figure was terribly exciting, because though her curves were not wide, they were well defined.
She wore all pink and lavender, starting with pink calf-height boots with lavender fold-over tops. Above that pink stockings which came to just above the knee. An inch or two of flesh was exposed between the tops of the stockings and her short, flowing lavender skirt. On top, the girl wore a bodysuit, covering her relatively small breasts with lavender push- up cups, making them seem larger than the normally were. Below the cups a sheer pink nylon sheet coated her concave stomach. She wore tiny pick gloves, and a lavender mask which came around from either side of her head but did not meet in the middle. Darke wondered how it stayed on and guessed there was some kind of adhesive involved. The girl carried a sword and shield, of all things, and the shield was bright lavender, matching her outfit. The sword stood out, with it's shiny steel blade, but even the handle was lavender to match the rest of the costume.
The most striking feature was the girl's hair. It was sharp, bright pink, done up in a pony tail on top of the girl's head (with, of course, a lavender clip). The picture was not clear enough to see, but Darke could almost see a faint shade of pink in the girl's eyes, as well.
"Well, dear? Are you going to tell me your plan or do I have to guess?" Linda turned on the desktop, letting her cloak fall away from one leg, revealing the smooth, perfect skin.
"Well," said Darke, noticing the leg and smiling, but keeping his attention focused on the screen ahead of him, "I talked to one of our operatives in the Police Department yesterday, right after the incident, and he told me something very interesting.
"Apparently, they got a hair sample from this little vixen here.", Darke indicated the girl on the screen, Psi.
"So what?"
"Well, as it turns out, her hair is naturally pink. Also, I've been doing some reading", Darke indicated a pile of Manilla folders on the other side of the Desk.
Linda reached over and browsed through quickly.
"Articles about the Femme 4?"
"Mmm-hmmmmm. Specifically, I've been focusing on Psi."
"Why her?" Linda was really interested now, and seemed to have completely forgotten her bare leg dangling off the edge of the desk. But Marcus had not.
"The only way we're going to capture one of these wenches, is to find out who they are. Their real identity. Look at the picture. For a while, I figured that pink hair must be a wig, but the way it's styled, it would have to be one hell of a wig to stay on during all the fighting those ladies go through. So I thought... what if it's her real hair? That would make finding her ridiculously easy."
"So why don't we check the computer!?!" Linda was almost glowing with excitement. The Darke's had one of the most up-to-date wide-ranging computer networks in the world, to keep track of past, present, future, and potential slaves.
"I already did, and came up with nothing. I checked every woman in the database over the age of eighteen. But... then I started reading the articles, and looking at some newspaper photographs."
Linda waited expectantly, refusing to be baited into asking him to go on. Marcus simply focused on the image displayed on the view screen in front of him for a minute. He was enjoying her anticipation.
"Look at her, my dear? Take away the costume, the sword, the super- powers, the incredible physical conditioning and what do you have?"
Linda looked long and hard at the photo. She got up off the desk and even moved closer to the screen to see if she could find what her husband was seeing. Then it hit her.
"She's a teenager!"
"Yes! It never occurred to me at first. One of the deadliest members of the Femme 4 is in High School."
Linda sat back down on the desk, still looking at the image on- screen.
"So, I went back to the computers, checked for someone 14 to 18 years old, with pink or magenta hair, and BINGO!" Darke whipped a piece of paper off the desk seemingly from nowhere and handed it to Linda. It was a computer printout.
Linda scanned the text, reading out loud, "Tiffany Stone, age sixteen, five foot three, approximately a ninety pounds.... that's got to be a mistake. She's petite, but those strong muscles under that soft exterior must put her at at least a hundred pounds."
"Yes, probably. You must remember, these reports are compiled by our agents in the field, and a lot of times they have to guess by sight."
"Yes... but there's no address here. How do we find her?"
"She not listed in any of the standard references, but... I found out what school she goes to. And I've already got some of our street people working on reeling her, and the rest of Femme 4, in."
Linda turned around swiftly, leaning over the desk and smiled girlishly as she grabbed Marcus by the chest of his shirt and pulled him in close for a kiss.
It was yet another dreary Tuesday afternoon, and as usual, Tiffany Stone was bored in a way that only a teenager could be. She sat in her last class of the day, not listening to a single word her chemistry professor uttered, and she silently cursed Jackie for making her attend school at all. After all, what was the point of sitting in a classroom with three dozen moronic children (her classmates) listening to a bunch of things she would never need to know? Especially when she could simple read them all from the professors mind in a few seconds.
Tiffany hated school, but she would never admit it out loud, because she knew the rest of the student hated it, too, and anything they thought was to be immediately disagreed with. She had very little respect for her fellow teenagers. They seemed concerned with such trivial things. Boyfriends, and dating, and that was just the girls. She couldn't even stand to read the boy's minds any more without slapping someone. That had gotten her into quite a bit of trouble, and Jackie had not been pleased.
As much as she hated attending school and hated the fact that Jackie made her go, she loved Jackie herself. Tiffany had been orphaned at an early age and Jackie took care of her like a big sister. Treated her with respect, and even let her be in the Femme 4, despite her age. She had to respect Jackie for that move as well as for every other facet of the extraordinary woman. Jackie was something else all right.
Jackie Jones had been orphaned, too, but not until she was 18. Her parents had left her incredibly wealthy, but she never laid back and rested on her wealth. She used it for a purpose. It reminded Tiffany of the story of Batman, from a comic book she had once read. Accept of course Batman was only a comic book (and a movie, she supposed). This was real. The Femme 4 was real. Catgirl was real, and it was because of her that Psi was real.
Yes, Jackie had been a young woman when she took Tiffany in. Only 13 years older than Tiffany, really. The state probably would never let her adopt Tiffany, accept that Jackie was a powerful figure in the community. Her money, combined with her strength of will and interest in the public good gave her a lot of influence, and she had pushed through the adoption with all speed, or so Tiffany imagined.
A young boy sitting next to her in the classroom stood up, and Tiffany started, as she hadn't even heard the bell ring. The class over, she stood and moved out with the herd, desperately trying to avoid listening to the thoughts of some geeky little nerd who had been staring at her throughout the class and who was now standing behind her, but she failed to screen him out and got a disgusting image of what he was thinking about her ass.
She had taken to wearing revealing clothing to school to prevent such ideas in boys, and today she wore rather loose, comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt, but somehow, it never made much difference. "High school boys," she thought with disgust.
As Psi, it was always a different story. She deliberately dressed sexy then. It had been Jackie's idea for all of them to dress provocatively. Most of the people they fought against were men, and men were typically stupid about fighting women who were dressed in sexy outfits. It was amazing how time after time, despite the stories on the news about all their heroic exploits, men continued to underestimate them and allowed themselves to be distracted during the most intense of combats.
She was outside the school now, just passing through the exit. She always walked home, in spite of the fact that it was more than a mile, and the bus would take her within a few blocks. She liked the exercise. Jackie's powers gave her perfect physical prowess, but Tiffany had to work at hers.
As she walked out under the awning covering the bus-stop area in front of the school, a thought suddenly intruded on her mind. Just one word caught her attention and help it like a vice. It was not so much a word, as people did not really think in words, but a concept: Marcus Darke.
She stopped walking and almost turned her head, sensing the thinking coming from her left, behind her. She didn't look, though, thinking it unwise to draw attention to herself.
She let her mind open onto the thoughts of the boy leaning against the wall. He was dressed shabbily, and his thoughts were unfocused. She had learned from experience, that his hazyness was caused by drugs. Probably pot, she guessed, and as she probed further, her suspicion was confirmed. He had smoked a joint during Phys Ed today. And now he was standing, leaning against a wall, talking to another student... dealing, she realized.
But what was this about Darke. She knew of him, certainly. He was a white slave trader, and the Femme 4 had done no small amount of damage to his operations saving dozens of young men and women from his horrifying torments and sexual perversities. She blushed at the thought, thinking herself rather hypocritical. After all, Jackie had a dungeon not very much unlike Darke's, but the difference was, Jackie used her to torment evil scumbags like Darke. While he preyed on the innocent. Tiffany had never joined in much in Jackie's dungeon. Her mind-reading abilities made it rather unpleasant to experience the tortures from inside the victims mind. Jackie had tried to show her the beauty of it, but Tiffany just couldn't see the fun.
Darke was into drugs, too, Tiffany knew, but not a whole lot. He used it as a source of income, just in case the slave market was slow. At least, that's what Jackie said, and she was usually right.
She probed further into the boy's mind, seeking out why he had thought about Marcus Darke. The crowd surged around her, students all rushing to get good seats on the bus. She stood still, and the crowd flowed around her, and then she found it.
Something the boy had heard from his supplier, or his suppliers supplier or whatever.... Darke was meeting someone. Tonight, at one of the temporary storage lots. Apparently, the boy wasn't sure what the meeting was to be about, or who it was to be with, but it was clear that Marcus Darke was to be there and doing something illegal.
She felt flushed with excitement. Finally, they had a chance to catch that evil swine red handed! She rushed forward, just as the busses were pulling out, and got on the bus going her way. No time to walk today, she had to get home and alert the rest of the team.
However, since she had waited so long, the bus was nearly full. Only one empty seat remained, and Tiffany groaned to herself, before she sat down, toward the back of the bus... right next to the nerdy little twerp from her Chemistry class.
Tiffany arrived home shortly after five PM. She had learned from the drug dealer at school that Darke's meeting was set for six, so she had very little time. Jackie's house was huge. A mansion really, and no one who knew anything about them could figure out why Tiffany was going to public school, but Jackie though it would be good for her. Jackie thought Tiffany was too arrogant and that public school would teach her that she was no better than anyone else.
Of course, it had had the opposite affect, really. Tiffany was disgusted with the petty thought of high school kids, and thought of herself as far above them. She was a super-hero, after all. Trivial concerns like classes and boyfriends and such paled in comparison to fighting for your life. Defeating bad guys, rescuing the helpless.
She came in the front doors of the house and called out to Jackie several times as she ran up the stairs to her own room, but there was no answer. They had no servants, as one might expect, but the house was clean and well kept, because whatever work Tiffany did not have time for, Jackie got one of the criminals in the dungeon to do.
Jackie was a master (or perhaps mistress?) at breaking the wills of people. Very much like Marcus Darke, Tiffany thought, once again blushing at comparing the two. Jackie, of course, concentrated her efforts only on those deserving of it. Mostly criminals against whom there was too little evidence to prosecute. They had considered kidnapping Marcus Darke, since they had failed time and time again to get him properly arrested, but he was too wealthy and powerful to simply disappear without someone asking some very dangerous questions.
Tiffany ran to her room and quickly stripped off her school clothes, stopping for a moment to admire her petite, lithe body in a mirror before slipping on her costume. Her shield hung on her back, and her thin Japanese Katana she slipped through a thin leather cord at her waist.
Jackie had taught her how to fight with many weapons, but the sword was her favorite, and best one. She liked to think of herself sometimes as some medieval warrior-maiden on a quest for justice.
She had killed, of course, on occasion, although she tried not to whenever possible. Mostly because Jackie said she try not to, and although Tiffany disagreed, she obeyed out of respect and a desire to stay part of the team. She had no real compunctions against killing those she knew were evil, except that being around death usual hurt a little in her mind. Reading the thoughts of someone as they died was never pleasant, but it was usually quick, and Jackie had never sufficiently explained to Tiffany why killing was to be avoided so strongly.
She continued to call out for her team leader, but there was still no answer, and she went back downstairs to the phone to check for a message for her adopted mother.
There were two phones, of course, one for normal calls, and one a special hotline connected to only the homes of the Femme 4. This second phone was hidden in the wall behind a plate which was almost invisible when closed, and it was to this phone that Tiffany went first.
The answering machine had a button for leaving messages within the house, and as she suspected, it was blinking. Had Jackie and the rest of the team already found out about the meet and gone without her?
She clicked the play button and Jackie's firm, strongly feminine voice wafted out of the machine.
"Hi sweetie. The police got a tip about one of Darke's little hideaway's, so me and the girls went to check it out. It's supposed to be minor league, so no reason for you to trouble yourself coming down here. And anyway, I'm sure you've got plenty of homework to catch up on. See ya' later."
There was a beep, signifying the end of the message, and Psi cursed out loud. There was no way now to contact her team-mates, and Darke's meeting would be done before they could ever get there. She debated with herself for about a half a second about what to do, then pressed "record" on the answering machine, left a quick note for Jackie then ran from the house to the garage on got on her moped.
It had been Jackie's idea, of course, since Psi couldn't exactly drive a car legally, so she had bought her a cute little pink moped. It wasn't any floor model, though. Jackie had had it specially souped up for emergencies like this one, and it was far faster than any moped around. Not to mention it had some other intriguing features, too.
Tiffany hopped on and was off in a flash, heading for the meeting. Darke would not expect her to know about it, and she was a super-hero! She could handle this on her own, in spite of what Jackie thought. She'd show them all a thing or two about frail little Psi. She sped off toward the meeting place, thinking about how impressed Jackie would be when she told her that she had captured Marcus Darke, single handed. And she smiled.
Psi arrived at the storage facility and left her moped parked far from the actually buildings. Row upon row of long, thin buildings lined the area, each with about a dozen garage-type metal doors on them. Privately rented storage chambers for people who just wanted to store things and had no other place to put them.
She got off her bike and walked toward the buildings, trying to stay in shadow, or hidden behind a wall, whenever she could. She took out her sword and shield, just in case, and walked in between the buildings, wondering which one Darke was in.
She stopped, leaned back against a wall and probed outward with her mind, sensing.... thoughts. She could tell the general direction they were coming from and quickly honed in on one of the storage areas. Number 206.
She could sense people inside, Marcus Darke among them, but something clouded her perceptions, and she could read nothing more of him. She knew it was him by the stench of evil his mind wreaked out like pus. The interference in the area could easily be caused by electrical wiring, or even sunspot activity. He gifts were powerful, but not infallible.
The door to the area was closed, and there were several cars and a van parked outside, further confirming that she had the right one.
She thought for a few moments about what to do. Surprise was certainly out of the question. In order to get in, she would have to open that big garage door, and there was no way to do that without giving everyone inside plenty of time to prepare for her assault.
She felt a tickle at the back of her mind, coming from somewhere behind her, behind another row of buildings but she could not grasp it, and she figured it was just her imagination.
She checked her watch, seeing it was just after five now, and wondered how long Darke had been in there. She decided to wait just outside, standing against the wall, so she could strike from behind when they all left, and she had just begun walking towards the side of the door when it began to open, rather quickly.
She panicked, for a second, but there was no cover close enough to reach in time, so she was forced to stand her ground.
She stood bravely, sword and shield ready, watching for whatever threat might come out of the doorway in front of her.
And then he was there: Marcus Darke. The Nemesis of the Femme 4. He wore a white suit, very expensive and well tailored. He was a tall man, with deeply tanned skin and he lifted the garage door upward with one hand whilst holding a smoking cigar in the other.
He was terribly handsome, Psi thought to herself quickly. Very stylish and suave. Yes, that was definitely the word for Marcus Darke: suave.
Behind him and slightly to one side stood a beautiful woman with long dark curly hair wearing a black evening gown slit up the side all the way to her hip. She seemed to Psi to have an extraordinary intensity about her. A strength of character that reminded her of Jackie.
She had barely had time to notice the rest of the people hiding in the darkened interior of the garage. They were all wearing black, Ninja- type suits from head to toe. All skin tight, some men, some women, but all armed with weapons of various designs.
Psi knew these anonymous thugs well, or at least, she knew their breed. Darke had a seemingly endless supply of them, though where they came from was anybody's guess.
There were only four or five of them, and Psi was certain she could take them easily. Her powers gave her a distinct edge in combat, since she knew her opponents moves, even before they did, sometimes. She had trained long and hard, too, to make her body into a perfect weapon, at Jackie's coaching, of course.
She was certain she would have no trouble dispatching the group.... until something clamped around her neck from behind. She was stunned, at first. As soon as the garage door had opened, she was able to read the thoughts of the thugs quite easily, but she had still not sensed anyone behind her.
She spun quickly and reached up to her neck to feel what was there. A metal collar of some sort, locked in place and heavy as lead.
Behind her stood an odd-looking man. He was all white, pale skin, white eyes, white hair, but not old. He was an albino, she guessed immediately, and he wore a costume or all black and white, in a checkerboard pattern. Foolish of him, really, for his costume marked him as having super-powers and thus she would make sure to take him out first.
But as she spun, a blow caught her in the side from behind. One of the thugs sporting a pair of nunchucks had tagged her easily, and she spun backward again.
She heard a laugh coming from Marcus Darke's direction as she realized he powers were gone. The collar had neutralized them.
Psi stood her ground, she was a trained fighter, after all, but she had always had her powers, her edge. Now, without them, she was lost. She cursed at herself inwardly for ignoring Jackie's lessons about not relying on her powers too much. But it was too late, now, as the thugs and the albino moved to surround her.
She blocked and parried, defending herself well, as Jackie had taught her. She out-thought her opponents even without her powers, but after a while, their sheer numbers began to wear her down. She had already taken two of them out of the fight. One lay on the ground bleeding, his chest slashed open, and another was hobbling away with a gash in her leg. Three more remained, but Jackie was getting tired. She refused to give up, but the battle was taking it's toll, and her attackers were better than the usual class of hired thug Darke used. Not much better, but better enough so that Psi could tell.
She kicked out at one of the men, going for his kneecap. But the move sent her balance just a bit off and as she stuck her sword arm out to the side to compensate, a large ninja-thug with a chain swung it out, grabbing her arm.
With her sword arm captured and her balance compromised, a slender female ninja-thug did a sweep and knocked her off her feet. Psi hit the ground hard, and it was the albino (she had lost track of him until now) who finished her off by slamming her head backward into the concrete parking lot. Her vision blurred and she lost consciousness.
Marcus Darke was very pleased with himself, although his expression did not show it. He knew that Linda could tell, and that she was just as pleased with him as he was with himself. They had been married long enough to know each other's thoughts on occasions like this.
Linda's pleasure was much more obvious, and Marcus could tell by her expression that her wicked mind was busy planning all sorts of new torments for their newest captive.
She was practically glowing, wearing her dominatrix outfit in preparation for what was to come. She always wore it for the most special victim, because Darke had once told her she looked terrifying in it, and he still thought so now. It was a one piece jumpsuit of shiny black latex, and it conformed perfectly to every inch of her body. Zippers of the crotch, nipples, and ass allowed for easy access when she needed it, and the entire thing was covered with tiny sharp metal studs in strategic places. The studs were very sharp, and she had to move very careful wearing the outfit so as not to cut herself, but she usually made a deliberate effort to move quickly and carelessly around her victims and to make sure the sharp studs made a definite impression.
With her hair done up in a tight, severe-looking bun, Linda looked like some kind of demoness bent on agonizing torment for some unlucky mortal. Her coal-black eyes gave her just that extra edge which made her a truly frightening but erotic vision. Not a day went by that Darke regretted marrying her.
They walked through the halls of the mansion with quick, graceful strides, and finally came to the private elevator. It was the only way in or out of the Darke's private dungeon. Of course, for their business, they had many dungeon situated in all parts of the world, but the dungeon underneath the mansion was special. The slaves trained here were never sold; they were the best the world had to offer and Marcus and Linda kept them for their own private amusement.
Marcus typed in the code on the security pad, and grinned as the elevator descended deep into the Earth. Very soon, all four of those Femme 4 bitches would be his to play with, but for now, he was intent on enjoying the youngest of the group. He had special plans for her. She would be their link to the others.
Darke had done all the research he could think to do, and there were still no leads on the identities of the other members of the Femme 4. The girl would have to be forced to talk, and to do that, Marcus and Linda had planned out the perfect way to break the girl and make her theirs, body and soul.
An electronic bell rang and the elevator doors opened onto the dungeon. It was made to resemble a medieval torture chamber, but most of the devices were modern in design. Linda was quite skilled at electrical engineering, and when it came to torture devices, she was incredibly inventive. She had designed equipment that existed nowhere else in the world.
As the doors opened, the Darke's eyes focused in on the only current occupant of the room. Psi lay on a short padded bench. The bench was about 5 feet long, only a foot wide, and the girl was lying on her back in such a way so that her head was not supported by the bench and hung over the edge.
At either end of the bench were X-shaped legs, providing strong support, and a crossbar near the floor connected the legs across the length of the bench.
Psi was still dressed in her costume, with a few small additions. On each wrist, ankle, upper arm and thigh, a thin half-inch wide leather band was strapped tightly onto her.
Her wrists were bound to the bench right next to her shoulders with thin chains, and the wrist straps were chained as well to the upper arm straps. Her ankles were similarly chained to her thighs, and chains from the ankle straps pulled her legs down and back on either side of the bench, locking against eyebolts in the lower crossbar of the bench.
One final piece of bondage was arranged so that the girl could not pull herself forward onto the bench, and that was her hair. The clasp of her pony-tail had been removed and her hair was pulled down toward the floor in front of the bench bending the girl's head at a ninety degree angle to her body. Her hair was tied off to a metal ring connected by a chain to an eyebolt in the floor.
As the Darke's entered the dungeon, they found their new toy was still asleep. This was no surprise, as they had checked the monitors before coming down to see if she was awake yet.
Without a word, they walked over to the girl, and Marcus moved around to her head, while Linda moved around toward the side of the bench. With only a glance, they decided what to do, and Marcus began by reaching a hand down and gently touching the girl's small perky breasts through the thin spandex of her costume. He rubbed with two fingers in a small circular motion and the girl did not stir.
Linda stood watching as his hands grew slowly more insistent over time, pressing more firmly, but not firm enough to wake Psi up. Just a gentle teasing caress around the breasts and after a few moments, the girl's head moved a bit and Darke watched as her nipples began to stand erect against the soft fabric covering her chest.
Darke had to suppress the urge to laugh, for fear of waking the girl too soon. As her nipples hardened, he began to concentrate his fingers toward the sensitive nubs, and the girl wriggled a bit in her bondage, still asleep, but perhaps dreaming erotic dreams.
After a few more moments fondling, Psi's nipples were rock-hard and Darke gave his wife a wink.
Taking her que, Linda Darke leaned in and gently lifted the teenagers skirt, revealing French-cut pink spandex panties. She began to gently rub the girl's crotch through the soft material, making slow easy circles.
In seconds, the girl was squirming like a cat in heat, and the Darke's backed off to let her calm down a bit. She stirred some more, and wriggled on the bench as much as was allowed by her restraints, but did not awaken. The beating she had taken at the hands of their henchmen had taken it's toll, and the girl was deep asleep once again in a few more seconds. Her nipples remained rigid, though, and the Darke's wasted no more time in starting their gentle caresses again.
This time, the girl was more slow to excite, and a small gasp emerged from the sleeping teen's lips as she began to squirm. Her peaceful, sleeping firm wiggled a bit and Darke thought he detected a tiny hint of a smile as the girl gently licked her lips. Both Marcus and Linda had noticed, of course, how easy the girl had been to excite, and they knew the plans they had worked out would be more than the little heroine could handle.
For moments more, the girl squirmed just a bit every so often. Her breathing was somewhat heavy now, and the Darke's new she would soon be awake, so they began to rub her with more intensity, still gently, but faster and faster, trying to get her to cum before she could stop herself.
Psi awoke with a rasping inhalation as the orgasm washed over her helpless form. She groaned aloud, not yet sure where she was, but knowing the feeling washing through her was the most incredible thing she had ever felt. Her tight young body strained against her bonds, and her back arched.
She groaned in a voice unaccustomed to ecstasy, "Nnnnnnnggggggaaaaaaaa!"
She was just starting to come down from the pleasure when she realized where she was and with whom, and the orgasm ended with as much shock as it had started.
Her eyes widened in fear at first and her hands jerked hard against her chains, not yet realizing she was bound. She pulled up her head, and the pain in her scalp from the tension on her bound hair made her scream as she let her head fall once again. She pulled at her chains in opposing directions, wriggling in squirming in panic and fear.
She felt her whole body flush bright red from embarrassment as it slowly began to sink in what had just happened to her. With horror, she realized her nipples were rock-hard and clearly visible to anyone looking. And she felt a cool wetness between her legs and knew that her panties must be soaked through at the crotch.
Marcus Darke was looking down at her, and she could sense his every thought, even as he spoke, "Good morning, little girl."
She screamed in absolute terror and humiliation, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Her first grasp of his thoughts was horrifying and she blocked it out as quickly as possible. But images got through before she could stop them. She saw him stripping her naked and stabbing her with needles in her most sensitive areas. She closed her eyes and tried to deny the reality of her situation, but that only gave her more time to think about what had just occurred.
"Oh God", she thought. "I just came."
It had been the first orgasm of her life. She had never been a very sexual creature. In fact, she was still a virgin. And here she was, soaked in sweat, having just had the most pleasurable experience of her life at the hands of the most evil two people in the world.
She swallowed hard, trying to get hold of herself, still thrashing wildly against her bonds in utter terror such as she had never felt before. Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps from her orgasm combined with her terror and thrashing exertions.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Images of her past came back at her. Dungeons filled with helpless young men and women, bound into horrifying devices of agonizing pain. Stripped and humiliated. Psi had rescued dozens of such victims, and now she was one herself.
She fought to regain her self-control. Darke had shattered it by awaking her that way, but she had to get a grip on herself or she would end up as one of those quivering vegetables they had found in the worst of Darke's dungeons. Or worse.. she could end up like one of those people who had been completely broken, turned into submissive little sex toy's for Marcus Darke's amusement. No! She would die first. But... would Darke give her that option?
She forced her breathing to a steady (though gasping) pace and opened her eyes. She tried to look furious and in control.
"Let me out of this right now, you psychos!", she emphasized her demand by yanking hard at the chains, realizing as she did so just how vulnerable she was.
A cool soft hand came to rest on Psi's neck. Linda Darke stood over her, as her husband moved away toward the foot of the bench which Psi could not see.
"We'll let you go, dear.," the touch of her soft fingers on Psi's oversensitive skin was chilling, "But not until we've made you ours. Not until your every breath is for us. Not until you live or die only for us. Not until you tell us the names of all your other little super-bitch friends. Oh, and do not doubt that you will, little girl. My husband and I have broken hundreds of people, and no one has ever resisted us."
Psi gulped hard, and tried to relax her breathing. Then she felt the bench shake a bit. Her powers kicked in involuntarily, and she sensed Darke getting up onto the bench, straddling it right between her wide- spread legs.
The helpless heroine tugged at her bonds, her ankles straining to pull her legs up and together as Darke shifted himself up close to her, his crotch right next to hers.
Rough fingers slid under her panties gently and swiveled up to her sides under her skirt. She heard a tear and felt cool air on her left side as her tore her panties. When he tore the right side and pulled them off of her, she gasped and swallowed audibly.
She squinted her eyes and struggled to get free.
"No... don't you dare!", her voice was strong starting out, but cracked by the last word. She knew she could not stop what was about to happen. "Please," the last was practically a whisper.
She heard a zipper quickly unzipping and shut her eyes and her mind as tight as she could. The last thing she wanted was to be able to see his thoughts as he took her.
She was so scared, she never heard Linda Darke walking around to her face. With her head pulled back, Psi's mouth hung open, and she jerked and opened her eyes when Linda came around and shoved a small wadded-up piece of cloth into her mouth. She tried to close her mouth, and caught a quick glimpse of pink as the cloth was shoved inside. Linda Darke grabbed Psi's head and held a hand over her mouth while she tied a leather band around Psi's head. There was a large pad in the front of the band which covered her mouth, so that she could open it, but she couldn't spit out what she now realized were her own juice-soaked panties in her mouth.
The salty sweetness of her own juices made her want to gag, and she gasped in breaths through her nose as fast as she could trying desperately to gain some measure of self-control and failing miserable.
The Darke's gave her no time to recover, and in the next instant she felt unbelievable agony as Marcus Darke thrust his hips against hers and entered her virgin pussy, popping her cherry like a freight train.
Psi screamed, but it was muffled and she felt somehow that it wasn't enough, so when she was out of breath, she inhaled deeply through her nose and screamed again, and then repeated the process once more again as Marcus Darke began raping her in harsh, powerful strokes.
She was lucky that they had made her cum first, because her pussy was already well-lubricated, but she certainly didn't feel very lucky. She gasped for breath desperately and she could sense every thought Marcus and Linda Darke had as they tormented her body. She could no longer concentrate enough to block out there thoughts, and she began to scream continuously.
The thoughts inside Marcus Darke's head were the worst, because she almost felt as if she were raping herself. His incredible pleasure at her pain was becoming her pleasure, as well, and she could not focus her mind to block him out.
Meanwhile, Linda stood by and watched the squirming teen, then leaned in and began licking at Psi's nipples and soon Linda's pleasure became Psi's pleasure, too, so she was felling pleasure from two people and it was all caused by her own pain.
Then Marcus Darke was cumming, deep inside her, and ultimately, the strain was too much, and Psi, mercifully, blacked out.
Catgirl was angry, or at least she looked it. Buff and Melt knew better, though. They had arrived at Jackie's mansion shortly after 8 PM, only to find that Psi was nowhere to be found. After checking the answering machine and discovering that Psi had gone off alone, to face their greatest enemy at a storage facility after getting news of a meeting from the mind of a student at school, Jackie had hit the roof.
According to the machine, the message was recorded shortly after 5. It was now just past 8 o'clock and there had been no word from Psi. Jackie was angry on the outside, cursing furiously at the girl for doing something so foolish, but inside, she was terrified.
Deductions flowed through Jackie's keen mind like wildfire. The anonymous tip they had gotten about one of Darke's slave operations had been weak, at best. They found the place, all right, and there was certainly something going on there, but it was strictly minor league. They had rescued only 2 girls from the dungeon under the private house, and the single man living there claimed he worked for no one but himself.
Jackie had been suspicious immediately, and it was clear to her now that there was a good possibility someone had set them up. And... she had pretty good idea who that someone was, too.
Jackie looked at her two best friends and they looked back in comforting silence. Psi was the youngest member of the team and they all looked out for her as much as possible. In addition, she was Jackie's adopted daughter. If anything had happened to her, Jackie would never forgive herself for letting the girl don a costume and join the team.
Stressful as it was, though, Catgirl was still the leader, and she wasn't about to sit by and do nothing while Tiffany could be in terrible danger.
"C'mon, girls," he voice was sharper than she intended.
Melt and Buff followed Catgirl as she marched from the mansion toward the secret underground garage where the Femme-car was kept.
Buff's voice was reassuring, "Don't worry. You trained Psi yourself. She can take care of herself as well as any of us. Hell, last few training sessions we've had, she nearly had ME beat more than once!"
"I hope you're right," but Catgirl did not sound very hopeful.
As they got into the car and drove off toward the storage yard, Catgirl noticed that Melt had had very little to say. And that worried her most of all, because Melt was probably the smartest among them, and also the most honest. If Melt was keeping silent, it was because she had nothing good to say.
Needless to say, the storage facility was a washout. No sign of either Marcus Darke or Psi remained by the time Catgirl and the rest of the Femme 4 arrived. Marcus Darke had covered his tracks completely, and Jackie expected no less of such a dangerous adversary.
Drina Wilcox was just toweling off after a long relaxing shower in her own apartment when the doorbell rang.
Weeks had gone by since Psi's abduction and Jackie grew more and more unstable every moment. It was all Buff and Melt could do to keep her from storming Marcus Darke's mansion single-handed. To do so, they all knew, would be suicide, and committing suicide would not help Psi. Besides, there was no guarantee that either Darke or Psi were even at the mansion. Darke certainly would not be so foolish as to keep her there. Unless that's just what he expected the heroines to think.
They had to do something, though, and soon, or Catgirl was going to go completely over the edge. And Buff refused to even think about what Psi must be going through.
Normal towels were never enough for Buff's giantess form, so Drina wrapped an especially large towel around herself and went to answer her door. She had no fear of attack, because no one knew her secret identity, and even if they did, with her near-invulnerability, what could hurt her?
As she opened the door she gasped in shock. At first, she didn't recognize the girl standing in her doorway. But the pink hair gave it away. She started forward to hug the girl, then backed off, realizing something was wrong.
Psi was dressed in a mockery of her former costume. Her pony tail had been set off to her left side instead of coming straight up and back, like usual. Her mask was no longer the lavender curves of old, but instead was made of black leather, like Catgirl's outfit, and had sharp corners to it.
She wore a tiny, black vinyl string bikini with sharp metal studs placed all around it, and it barely covered her petite teen-aged form. The girls arms and legs were covered in black studded leather straps interspersed chaotically with no rhyme of reason. Black leather ankle boots and a studded metal collar completed the ensemble.
Buff was stunned at the transformation, and for a moment it occurred to her that she must have escaped from Marcus Darke's clutches. Surely the girl would never dress this way on her own, so Darke must have dressed her like this for his own perverse pleasures.
But then she saw Psi's wicked, twisted smile. The girl had simply stood and watched Buff all this time. Buff realized Psi had simply been watching her reaction, reading her thoughts.
Buff was about to speak when Psi raised a hand and Buff heard a swishing sound like a perfume bottle being sprayed. She inhaled a cloud of sweet smelling gas, and as she fell to the ground, looked up at Psi, her former teammate, and she knew then that Darke had made her his own.
Buff awoke quickly to the sound of humming machinery. She guessed she had been out for several hours, judging by the way she felt. Her powers made her invulnerable to just about any external physical harm, but her insides were the same as everyone else's and right now, she had a splitting headache from whatever drug had rendered her unconscious.
She took a quick glance around at Marcus Darke's Dungeon and assessed her situation. With her strength, she was sure there was no place on Earth which could hold her for long and she was confident she could escape whatever bondage Marcus Darke had devised.
She found herself suspended, spread-eagle, trapped in a large rectangular metal frame. Her hands and feet disappeared into large metal cylinders. A metal strap of some kind held a large gag in her mouth. She was dressed, surprisingly, in her Buff costume. Which was odd, considering she had been wearing only a towel when she was captured. Which meant Psi must have found her costume in it's hidden compartment and dressed her.
She took a moment to examine her surrounding, noticing all the torture equipment which would be useless against her, of course. Then, when she decided she was certain she was alone, she began to pull at her bonds.
She tensed her muscles slowly, knowing that to break her bonds too fiercely might endanger people in nearby rooms. Her strength was so great that Buff had been forced to get used to holding back for fear of injuring anyone or knocking down buildings.
As soon as she began to pull on her bonds, a low electronic humm began to sound in her restraints. Her pullings seemed to have no effect whatever on the metal holding her helpless, but she could feel something tingling in her hands and feet. She pulled harder, slowly increasing the pressure her super-human muscles could provide. The humming grew more steady, but still her bonds did not give way as the tingling increased.
Buff was getting impatient and began to tense her muscles more quickly. But the harder she tried to get free, the more she felt the strange tingling in her hands and feet. She was now using enough strength to tear steel like paper, and yet her bonds did not even seem to notice.
In frustration, she began to yank hard against the restraint, and the tingling feeling came and went in time with her jerking motions, but the metal cylinders would not give an inch.
A tiny bell-sound rang behind her and she turned her head as much as possible to see the elevator doors open and three people entered the dungeon.
The first, she recognized immediately as Marcus Darke, the second was a tall, slender woman with long curly black hair who Buff guessed was Darke's wife Linda, dressed in a one-peice black bathing suit, and finally, there was Psi, still dressed in her new black leather outfit.
Buff tried to speak, but only muffled grunts came out. She tensed her powerful jaw muscles, trying to crush the gag in her mouth, but realized that gag must be connected somehow to her other bondage, because the same tingling sensation washed through her jaw, and the gag would not break.
At the sight of Marcus Darke, Buff furiously raged against her bonds like a wild animal. Using all her strength to it's absolute limit. The machine was obviously absorbing her strength, so she hoped to overload it by giving it more force than it could handle, but it was no use. In a few moments, Buff was drenched in sweat, but still helplessly bound.
The three new arrivals walked around in front of Buff and Marcus Darke stood back and watched her with his wife, while Psi stepped closer and flashed that twisted, evil smile. Buff shivered and looked sadly down at the young girl who was like a sister to her.
"It's great to see you again, Drina," even Psi's voice had a different quality to it. Something sinister there. What had Darke done to the girl to turn her into this. Buff knew Psi was young, but the girl had more spirit than anyone she knew. If Darke could do this to Psi, then Buff considered herself in deep trouble.
"As you can see, Master Darke has taught me quite a lot since I've been gone. And now I get to help teach you some things."
The girl was terrifyingly cheerful. She was really enjoying this. And with Psi working for her captors, Buff realized they would know everything about her. Even her most private thoughts were like an open book to Psi.
Psi giggled, hearing the thought. "Yes, dear Drina. I know exactly how to hurt you. I know what scares you, and what you like, and even some things you don't know about yourself. And I have sworn to assist my master in breaking you. But don't worry. I was scared at first, too. But soon, you'll come to love being a slave."
Buff thrashed in her bonds again and looked at Marcus Darke with a more intense hatred than she had ever felt about anyone or anything.
Marcus Darke looked back, amused. He turned to Psi, "Blade, go and get the stands."
Apparently, he had not only transformed her into his personal plaything, he had even given Psi a new name. With a quick, but sincere, "Yes, Sir," Psi... or rather Blade, went across the room through a small door leading off to the side.
Meanwhile, Linda Darke had begun to slowly circle Buff. Buff was already taller than anyone in the room, and most people in the world in general, for that matter. Her position raised her off the ground several inches, and so Linda was forced to look up at her. Linda walked around behind Buff and placed a hand on her ass, squeezing softly, then more firmly.
Buff tensed and when her flesh refused to give way even a little, Linda smiled. Looking at her husband she said, "Well, dear, I'll go attend to our other new guest. Make sure you save some of this precious meat for me."
Darke walked over and kissed his wife passionately, and then she disappeared into the elevator.
Blade had now returned to the dungeon with three large metal stands in tow. The stands were on wheels and she pushed them along in front of her.
Each stand was basically just a small metal pole, raised about 6 feet off the ground, like one of those stands intravenous bags hang from in hospitals. These stands had bags hanging from them, too, but the were not tiny little ones like one would expect, but large, plastic bags filled with gallons of sickly green liquid. From each bag issued a long, thin tube with a small deflated balloon at the end, and Buff realized that this was enema equipment. Psi had given Darke the knowledge to hurt her and he had known just how to use it. Although, on the outside, Buff was practically invulnerable, her inside were just as soft and capable of feeling discomfort as anyone's.
Marcus Darke went over to a small table and picked up a huge hourglass shaped piece of metal. It looked like a corset, but was made of metal, like the rest of Buff's bonds and it had two large screws on the front. As Darke wrapped it around her waist, with Blade's help, he began to explain.
"By now, you're probably wondering why you can't tear this little prison of mine to shreds. These restraint were designed especially for you, you see, with the help of my little sex toy here."
Buff saw Blade actually blush at Marcus Darke's description of her and once again she wondered what Darke could possibly have done to her to turn her into such a mindless slave.
"The metal cylinders there, and your gag, and this corset are all electronically prepared so that when any force is applied against them, they absorb it and store it in a large, superconductive battery. The practical use of all that, of course, is that every time you struggle, the battery get's charged a little more. Which is quite convenient, really, since conventional force will not be enough for what comes next."
Darke locked the metal corset around Buff's waist now, and tightened the screws in front so the device fit firmly around her. There were wires coming from a small box attached to the screws and he attached the wires to the outside of the frame in which she was bound.
Almost as if by magic, Darke produced a remote control and held it up for Buff's inspection. He pressed a button and the screws began to turn, slowly, squeezing the corset around her waist. In seconds, her waist was pinched tight and slowly shrinking by the minute.
She tensed her stomach muscles against the device, but that only made it close faster as it fed on her own resistance, so she forced herself to relax and not to fight it.
"Yes, now you see the irony, don't you? Every time you struggle, your own strength is absorbed and used to power the screws which are slowly constricting your waste. In a few minutes, you're going to look like a perfect hourglass."
Buff was scared and not at all certain what to do. She tried pulling her hands free again, but once again, the corset began to crush her more quickly and she let out a grunt of pain before forcing herself to relax. She had never been more frustrated in her life, but she was certain things were only going to get worse from here on out.
Buff's breathing became shallow and heavy as the corset cinched around her and it became more and more difficult to breath. She heard someone squealing, like an injured puppy, and stopped when she realized it was coming from her.
Finally, Darke stopped the corset from closing and left her panting through her nose for breath. Her waist was pinched at least six inches slimmer than normal and Buff saw Blade looking on and chewing her lip in delightful anticipation.
Buff had to admit, the girl made a stunningly sexy picture in her new black leather outfit, but she was determined to beat Darke somehow and rescue the girl from whatever he had done to her. First, though, she had to survive the next few minutes, hours, or days with her sanity intact.
Blade wheeled one of the stands around behind Buff and Buff heard Blade moving around behind her. Marcus Darke stood in front of his helpless captive and smiled into Buff's face.
Buff's pupil-less eyes stared straight back at him in defiance. Darke nodded to Blade and Blade suddenly felt something behind her.
Blade had taken hold of one of the enema tubes and was pulling at the bottoms of Buff's costume. She pulled the panties aside and began to press gently against her ass-hole with the end of the enema tube. Buff tensed her ass instinctively, but no matter how strong her muscles were, the tiny, lubricated tip of the tube slipped easily into her ass. She heard blade giggle behind her and yanked at her bonds in frustration. She knew she was only providing Darke with more energy with which to torment her, but she didn't care.
Blade inserted the tube deep inside Buff's anus, then began to use a small hand pump to inflate to balloon inside Buff's bowels. The balloon, of course was round with a small hole through the center to allow for the introduction of liquids into Buff's intestines. Blade inflated the balloon until Buff groaned in agony at it's increasing size. It was now firmly lodged inside her and there was nothing she could do about it.
Buff looked at Marcus Darke, and then over at the two remaining enema bags. She wondered what they were for, and realized with horror that the bags of liquid were huge. There was no way she could take all that inside her. Especially with that metal corset constricting her abdomen.
Blade peeked around Buff's massive form and spoke directly to her new Master. "Master, she doesn't believe that all that liquid will fit inside her."
Were it possible, Buff would have blushed as she realized Blade was reading her every thought.
"Don't worry, little one. We'll soon change her mind about that."
Blade giggled.
"Why don't you do her mouth next."
"Yes, Sir."
Blade walked around in front of Buff and took hold of another one of the tubes. She reach up towards Buff's face, which she had to stand on tip-toes to reach. Buff tried to twist away, but Blade's speed and dexterity made it easy for her to open a small hatch in the gag and insert the tube through. From there, it was a simple matter to push the tube inside Buff's mouth and down her throat, feeding the tube all the way down in to the helpless woman's stomach.
Buff struggled and turned her head trying to escape the horrible feeling, but the gag held her tongue pressed hard against the floor of her mouth, and she was helpless to stop the tube from invading her body.
She gurgled and almost gagged as the tube slid down her throat and simply stayed there. It was very uncomfortable and she instinctively tried to swallow and found that the tube was too thick to allow it.
"She's really getting scared now, Master."
Marcus Darke just smiled. "Only one left, and then her torment can truly begin."
"Yes, Sir," came Blade's inevitable reply, as the girl walked over and grabbed the final tube. This one was thinner than the one in Buff's mouth, and Buff shivered as Blade began to pull aside the crotch of her costume bottoms. Blade slowly slid the tube into Buff's pee-hole, up deep into the woman's urinary tract, then inflated the balloon inside Buff's bladder, painfully sealing off the duct. This balloon, like the one in her ass, also had a hole through the center to allow for the introduction of disciplinary liquids.
Darke began, "As you must have guessed, you're about the receive an enema, my dearest Drina. But this will be no ordinary enema. This bag here," he indicated the bag with the tube leading into her anus, "is filled with a special concoction of my wife's. It's designed of course to encourage evacuation of the bowels. This other bag," Darke indicated the bag attached to the catheter inserted in her urinary tract, "contains a powerful diuretic. And in case you weren't aware, that's a substance that encourages urinating. And the final bag over there contains a mixture of both."
Darke was absolutely smug at he looked up at her, but that only made Buff more furious. She decided that she had to take a chance. If her strength was being forced into a battery, that battery had to have a limit, and her only chance at escape was to overload it. She began to thrash furiously against her bonds, not letting up, refusing to be held. She forced every bit of strength she had into every moment, and her hands and feet tingled continuously. Darke did not look the least bit worried as he stood and calmly watched her, smiling all the while.
After about five minutes of watching her work up a drenching sweat, he decided he'd seen enough. "Blade, darling, tell our new little slut here why her struggles will do no good."
Blade walked around in front of Buff and laid a hand on the amazon's sweat-soaked breasts. Buff's top was now soaked and the outline of her nipples was clearly visible through the fabric.
"I warned Master Darke that you might try to overload the battery, so he hooked it up to the power which runs this whole complex. So there's no way you can overload it because if it gets full, the excess energy just bleeds off into the whole mansion, saving Master Darke money because he doesn't have to use his own generators. Isn't he just so clever, Drina?"
Blade looked at Buff with a startling look of lustful innocence that Buff had never seen on the girl before. Psi had never taken much interest in sex, but Buff could tell just by the way she moved now that Blade was getting wet.
"Well, enough talk. It's time my new toy learned what happens to bad little sluts who oppose me."
As soon as Blade had rendered Buff unconscious, she had immediately run out to the van parked out on the street. The men inside had gone ahead and taken Buff away to Darke mansion, leaving Blade free to move on to her next victim, Melt (whom Blade knew as Jasmine Lee).
Blade knew that Jasmine would not fall for the same trick Buff did. Jasmine was much smarter than Drina, and as soon as Melt saw Blade in her knew costume, she would know something was seriously wrong. Chances are, Blade would still have enough surprise to capture her prey, but she didn't think it was worth the risk. She considered briefly using her old costume, but her master had forbidden her to ever wear it again and she would not defy him.
Jasmine was a research chemist in her "normal" life and made very good money. She owned a small house of her own, and it was there that Blade decided to make her move.
She used her powers and immediately detected Jasmine's exact location within the house so it was a simple matter to break into a small spare bedroom through a window.
She stood in the small room simply waiting for her victim to stroll down the hallway. Blade could see in her mind that she was heading toward the kitchen and it was child's play to wait until Jasmine was right outside the door and spray the same sweet-smelling gas which felled Buff as her.
Melt was unconscious in seconds. Just enough time for her quick- thinking mind to realize who it was that had captured her before she was engulfed by blackness.
Linda Darke left the dungeon where Buff was beginning her torment and moved down the hall to yet another dungeon. The mansion had many such rooms, each with it's own idiosyncratic devices.
In this particular dungeon stood a large clear plastic cylinder - a tank to be precise. At present, the tank was not filled with water, but a large tube in the side of the tank would soon fix that.
In the center of this large pool was a metal pole in the shape of a "T" and in front of this pole stood Melt, decked out in her full super- heroine costume. Her wrists were held in manacles at the top ends of the "T" and her feet were locked into metal high heels attached to the floor, spread wide apart. A final metal shackle was strapped around her waist and attached to the pole as well. The girl was unconscious, of course, since her powers were the most dangerous of the group. Until they could be nullified, she must remain asleep.
Through the clear plastic Linda could see just how gorgeous Melt really was, and her outfit was so lewdly sleazy. She knew she was going to have some real fun before long.
The pole held the girl standing straight up, but situated right between her legs was another, shorter pole. At the very end of it stood a long plastic dildo covered in tiny rubber spikes like a porcupine, pointed directly at the helpless heroine's most vulnerable spot. Of course, she was an inch or so above it and her costume protected her, but that was all part of the fun.
Lastly in the tank was a third pole directly in front of the girl. This one was taller than she was and from it protruded two long sleek dildos, one at her current mouth height and one about a foot and a half lower.
Linda now move to the side of the tank and turned a valve, allowing the water to quickly begin to fill it. The water would flow quickly and was computer controlled to fill the tank to the very top, far above Melt's head. Of course, Linda had no intention to let the girl drown... yet.
She climbed a ladder on the side of the tank, then flipped around and climbed down into the tank with Melt. She water was already up to their knees and Melt was starting to stir from her sleep. Linda got worried for a second. Melt's weakness (as revealed by Blade) was that her powers did not function without oxygen. Underwater, Melt would be completely helpless, so the water had to be over her completely before she got a chance to use her powers.
Luckily, though, the girl did not yet awaken.
The water was warm and comfortable so as not to shock the girl awake too soon, and Linda's fears were relieved as the water reached Melt's chin.
Linda quickly slipped on a breathing mask which was attached to the outside of the tank. She would have all the air she needed. The mask covered only her nose, so her mouth was free for other things. She stood behind the girl as the water flowed a bit higher and Melt awoke almost instantly, sputtering as she unconsciously breathed in some water. She choked and cough, panic overtaking her as she tried to figure out what was going on. She tilted her head up to keep her nose and mouth out of the water and gasped in one quick breath before she was completely submerged. By the time she even thought to use her powers it was to late.
Melt struggled furiously, not even realizing she was bound. She tried to swim upward toward the surface but her bonds would not let her move and she turned her head from side to side seeing her wrists encased in steel and her feet strapped into steel shoes. She remembered what had happened to her and how she was captured, and knew instantly she was in serious trouble.
Without thinking, she tried to trigger her powers, to melt the bonds which held her. All her air left her lungs in one big burst as waves of pain hit her like a freight train. Trying to use her powers underwater was definitely a bad idea.
She tried desperately to calm herself. As yet, she hadn't noticed Linda Darke floating behind her in the water, but she noticed now as Linda swam around in front of the girl. She leaned in close to her helpless prisoner and pressed her lips against her squirming captive's.
Melt turned away, fighter her, but Linda grabbed her head with both hands and pressed her lips firmly against Melt's. When she was sure they were securely locked together, she blew, as hard as she could, filling Melt's lungs with air. Melt stopped struggling and looked puzzled.
Few people knew it, but exhaled air is perfectly breathable. It's one of the major premises of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Linda could see the girl was catching on, now, and holding her breath, remaining as calm as she could so as not to use up her air.
Linda began to run her hands all over Melt's slender body. She touched the girl everywhere, as if she had no feelings. Melt was just a piece of flesh for Linda's pleasure and she was taking what she wanted. Her hands squeezed hard on Melt's firm breasts, and pinched at her pussy lips. She made sure when she was done to adjust Melt's costume back into proper place.
She could see that Melt was angry and humiliated, and Linda smiled. She could also see the girl's lungs were burning with the need for more air, but she did not satisfy her captive just yet. She leaned in to Jasmine's neck and began nibbling and kissing the girl. She could sense the girl's fury - could almost see her thinking about resisting, but Linda knew she wouldn't. This one was far too smart, and she knew that Linda had her completely in her power.
As Linda's kisses went on and Melt's need for air grew greater and greater, Melt began to release little bubbles of air, unable to hold her breath any longer. Linda snuck her hands behind the girl and turned a small locking screw on the pole which held the girl up. Linda then backed off.
She watched as Melt realized that something had changed. The pole she was attached to could now slide up and down. She could raise or lower herself if she wanted to. Linda saw the confusion, then the even greater confusion and fear as Melt finally noticed the dildo underneath her.
By now, though, the pain in her lungs was incredible. She needed air desperately. She looked pleadingly at Linda, and Linda grinned at pointed at the upper dildo pointing directly at Melt's face.
At the very tip of the dildo (and the one beneath it) was a small hole, and out of that hole came a tiny bubble of air.
Melt had no time to loose, so she steeled herself for the embarrassing task and leaned forward to place her mouth on the dildo. Very little air came out, but the girl soon discovered why as she leaned a little further. It was painful to stretch so far, but further along on the dildo was a small button. As she squeezed down on it with her lips, a burst of air came flooding out and Melt breathed deeply.
The air stopped after a second, though, and no matter how many times she pressed the button, no more air came out.
Linda grinned at the girl swam around behind her, resuming her fondlings.
Melt was curious, but not terribly afraid. She figured that the air would come out again after a suitable interval of discomfort for her. But as her lungs began to burn with need once more, she pressed the button repeatedly with no response.
Then she saw the bubble. A tiny little bubble from the lower dildo, and then it all became clear. In order to reach that dildo, she would have to lower herself onto the monstrosity between her legs. It was ingenious, and Melt shivered.
She couldn't do it! There was no way she could take that horror inside her. But... what choice did she have? She clenched her teeth and began to lower herself slowly downward.
It only took Jackie a few hours to realize what had happened. Her friends were all missing now, and she knew Marcus Darke was behind it. She also knew that Psi must have broken under the strain, because how else could he have captured Drina and Jasmine?
As night began to settle over the city, Catgirl emerged from the shadows and made her way to Marcus Darke's mansion. The look on her face was one of barely contained fury. She had no solid evidence against Darke, and so she had taken Jasmine's advice, not moving on him. She hadn't attacked, had not tried to save Tiffany, her own adopted daughter, had not tried to stop this man, whom she knew was pure evil from raping and torturing her best friend. But now, Darke had gone too far. Psi was surely broken. Who knew what torments Melt and Buff were enduring even now? Catgirl was pissed, and to hell with the law.
She snuck into the mansion with ease, scaling a rear wall and climbing in through an open balcony window. There were alarms, but her enhanced senses allowed her to circumvent them with feline grace.
She entered a spare bedroom, which she knew from the scent was not in use, and snuck to the door, listening for sounds from the other side.
As she opened the door a crack and peered into the hallway, her night vision allowed her to see that no one was about, and she crept into the hall, seeking some evidence of where her friends might be kept.
At this point, Jackie was crouched down, almost on all fours, slinking along like her namesake. Her anger her clouded her reason, and she was operating on more animal instinct than though. She had become a predator, and God help her prey.
The hallway stretched far to either side of her, and she saw a staircase at the far end to her left. She began to make her way toward it when she heard a noise coming from the other direction. A bell sounded and she ducked back into the bedroom she had entered from, just as the elevator doors opened and someone stepped out.
Jackie heard two sets of footsteps, one small and light (that was Psi... except why was the girl wearing metal heels?), a second was a man (she knew the scent... it was Marcus Darke himself).
Jackie waited for them to move, listening for sounds. She heard Psi's voice, "She's in there, Sir. She hid when she heard the elevator. She's knows we're here, too."
Marcus Darke's voice was a like fingernails scraping a blackboard to Catgirl, "Very good, little one."
Jackie thought she was going to be sick.
"Catgirl," Darke began, "I know you're there. No point in hiding. You came here for your friends, so come and get them."
Darke's voice was cold and confident. Something was not right. Catgirl heard his heartbeat, slightly elevated, but not frightened in the least. And Psi... Psi was.... excited?
She stepped out into the hall defiantly, prepared to do battle. She held her staff with both hands, knowing what was going to happen next but scarcely daring to believe it could be possible.
She stared in awe at the girl before. Psi had never looked so incredibly sexy. The girl stood with calm, easy, deadly grace, sword drawn and extended in a battle stance.
Catgirl was afraid, "Psi... listen to me." She paused, thinking how to get through to the girl. She expected Darke to interrupt her, try to stop her from talking to the girl, but he stood behind her calmly, watching with interest.
"I won't fight you, Psi."
"My name is BLADE!", the girl interrupted. Her sword slashed through the air, and clanged hard against the metal of Catgirl's staff. The attack was swift and deadly, but no real threat to Catgirl. It was more symbolic than effective.
"No! Your name is Psi. You're my daughter, my friend. I love you." Catgirl's reasonable mind had taken control of the animal in her. Fury would not help in this situation, and she knew it. She had to get through to the girl. "Think, Psi. Think. You know I love you. Darke has just brainwashed you."
Psi began a flurry of sword strokes, testing Catgirl's defenses. They had sparred many times before, but never seriously tested each other's abilities. Catgirl taught Psi everything she knew, but Psi's telepathy gave her a big advantage. Add to that the fact that Catgirl did not really want to hurt the girl, and Catgirl was in real trouble.
"You can stop trying to turn me, Jackie. I can read your every thought. I know all your arguments. I know how you feel about me. But my master has shown me pleasures you can't imagine. You will, though."
Slash after slash of Blade's sword came down on Catgirl's staff. Blade could instantly take advantage of any possible opening in her defenses, so the only way to fight her was to have no weaknesses. To be absolutely perfect in every move and every block, so there were no holes in her shield.
Drina suffered. Fluid poured into her body from every conceivable direction. And these liquids was not ordinary inert substances but ones designed specifically to cause agonizing discomfort.
She struggled against her bonds and was greeted with the familiar tingling sensation of her power being drained away into Darke's circuitry.
Buff was probably stronger than any human being on the planet. Her powers had surfaced when she was in her early teens, and since that time she had felt very little pain in her life. Physical pain, that is. She had forgotten what it felt like, and had never built up a tolerance for ordinary pain like most people do, and so her torment was made worse by her inexperience.
They had begun with the valve connected to her mouth, flooding her stomach directly with laxatives and diuretics, making her need to excrete overwhelming. Her stomach churned and made hideous gurgling noises, and she desperately fought the urge to vomit. Doing so would surely kill her, gagged as she was with a tube down her throat.
The anal tube had been next, following by the catheter, and she was flooded from three openings at once. The tight corset around her middle squeezed her waist into a caricature of an hourglass figure and made the pressure inside her a thousand times worse.
To top it all off, the liquids invaded her body were all steaming hot, leaving her flushed with the warmth and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She shivered in the cold dungeon air even as her insides burned. Her hair was matted to her head and her clothes were soaked through to the point of becoming transparent.
Darke and Psi had watched her squirm for several minutes, and she had held back the tears as long as she could, but now they were poring forth in an unstoppable torrent of anguish.
Her stomach continuously cramped and relaxed, cramped and relaxed as her bowels filled with hot fluid. She pushed against the flow as hard as she could, but it was hopeless, and the liquid continued to pour into her. Drool slipped down the sides of her face around her gag, as she was unable to swallow with the tube down her throat. Her breathing was ragged and desperately irregular.
For the first time in her life, Drina wanted to beg, plead, anything to make the torture stop. She wanted to pass out, but knew her super-body would never allow that. She knew it was futile, but she pulled and pulled at her bonds with all the strength she could summon, simply because it was the only smidgen of hope she had. No wonder Psi had broken. If this was the alternative, Buff would almost gladly serve Marcus Darke.
Jasmine's lungs burned, but that was nothing, she knew, compared to the agony that massive dildo was going to cause her. Linda Darke still swam around the tank, touching Melt's helpless body in every conceivably dark and secret place, and Melt had no choice but to accept it and try to ignore it as she tried to save her life.
The torture was ingenious, in that it forced her to torture herself if she wanted to live... and at this point she wasn't so sure she did, but she figured she had better get a move on before she no longer had the option.
It took her a seeming eternity to pushed herself down against the vicious tool underneath her. She had little hope of moving forward or back to get around the thing, the waist manacle made sure of that, but she tried anyway, with as little success as she expected.
She could wiggle from side to side a tiny bit, but not enough to escape the monster from below. There was no way she could get to the lower air-dildo except to lower herself onto the spiked one below her and she now knew it for certain.
She squirmed as she slowly lowered herself, using the top spikes on the dildo to push the crotch of her bodysuit out of the way. It wasn't easy, since the patent material snapped back into place given a chance, and it took her a long time to get into place while her lungs burned furiously with the need for oxygen.
She let out a small puff of breath and bubbles rose to the surface. Linda Darke was gently massaging Melt's breasts, and Melt struggled to ignore the (not totally unpleasant) feeling.
She braced herself and slowly bent her knees, pulling herself down onto the dildo. As the first spikes touched her, there was very little pain. Just a gentle brushing. The spikes were soft rubber, but the dildo was so wide. She lowered herself some more, and she felt the spikes begin to dig into her insides as the width of the dildo pressed her inner membranes open.
She lowered herself onto the dildo about an inch, then leaned forward, but she still couldn't get anywhere near the source of her air, so she lowered herself some more, and then more.
Her lungs ached so badly, and her vision was starting to blur, and yet she still couldn't reach the dildo that would allow her to live. She had no more time left, and so in desperation, she let out all her remaining air in one long screaming burst and thrust herself downward as hard as she could.
The pain of the dildo inside her was sheer hell, but she leaned forward and got her mouth around the lower dildo in front of her and heaved in a big gulp of sweet, plastic-tasting air. She hurt... but she would live.
Linda Darke reached down and pressed on Melt's tummy, pressing inward to make sure the girl could feel the spikes inside her and Melt let out a tiny squeal of pain and surprise.
She did not move, stayed perfectly still, until she realized that after her first breath of air, the dildo had gone dry, just as the top one had. She looked up and saw two tiny bubbles escape from the upper dildo and she knew that her torment was far from over... it had only just begun.
She raised herself up slowly, trying to minimize the pain, but wanting to move more quickly this time than she had last time, so her lungs wouldn't burn.
In the next few minutes, Melt went up and down on the dildo more than a dozen times, and Linda Darke sucked, massaged and teased her mercilessly all the while as she was forced to fuck the porcupine cock below her.
After a while, when the burning had stopped, Melt started to almost enjoy the sensations, and though she could not force herself to move very quickly, she was quickly coming to think that this might not be all bad.
The battle between Catgirl and Blade would have been the stuff of legend, had anyone been around to see it. Not just a legends of combat skill and courage, but legends of sexuality and beauty, as well. The two women, now both fully committed to the battle, raged against each other with deadly elegance, sword slashing against staff, staff crashing against shield, metal cutting through the air at speeds too fast for the ordinary human eye to follow.
It was clear that the combatants were evenly matched, Blade's youth and telepathy balanced well against Catgirl's far greater experience and enhanced senses. Marcus Darke watched with sincere admiration. What a wonder it would be to own both of these beautiful creatures.
Unbeknownst to Darke, though, another battle was taking place here, even as the obvious one raged. Inside Blade, the girl was beginning to question herself. She had believed what she told Jackie before, about Darke showing her such intense pleasures as she had never know. She had said that Catgirl could never understand those things, but as the battle went on, she began to reconsider. Psi had never been very sexually oriented, and Catgirl had made many attempts to involve her young protege in the activities of the dungeon, but Psi had always avoided such things. The question became, who was better? Who knew more about the pleasures (and pains) or the flesh? Marcus Darke, her master, or Catgirl, her loving, caring friend and mother (adopted though she may be)?
As these thoughts swirled through her mind, Blade spotted a momentary weakness in her opponent's defenses. Catgirl was tired and had left herself open, just for an instant, and Blade pounced. She ducked to the floor and swept Catgirl's feet out from under her, dropping the woman to the floor and leaving her completely vulnerable to attack.
"I guess cats DON'T always land on their feet, huh Mom!"
She held the tip of her sword to Catgirl's throat and held it, steady as a rock. Both girls were breathing heavily, and Darke was almost sorry to see it ended.
"Very good work, little one. Remind me to reward you later. Now, finish her."
"Yes, Sir," Blade replied coldly. Blade flicked her wrist and Catgirl winced, fearing she was about to die. But Blade's intent was not to kill. She had simply severed the leather choker around Catgirl's neck, for she knew that the mystic band was the source of Catgirl's powers. Without it, Catgirl was just an ordinary woman, albeit an extraordinarily beautiful one.
Marcus Darke laughed aloud, and Catgirl and Blade shivered. One with fear, the other with pleasure.
WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING
This story contains adult situations involving bondage, punishment, and sexual situations. If you will be offended by any of these, then you darn well SHOULDN'T READ THIS. Any serious (nonabusive) comments can be sent to me at the E-Mail above. I'd be interested in hearing what you think. The original author, TIE, did such a great job on the first part of the story that I felt compelled to finish the episode. Enjoy!
WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING
Catgirl slowly swam back to consciousness, realizing almost immediately that something was terribly wrong. She wearily opened her groggy eyes to discover that she was bound to a table in one of Marcus Darke's limitless punishment rooms. Her black-lycra costume was still clinging to her body but there seemed to be something strange about it.
As her gaze registered what she was seeing she began to bite back the edge of fear that gripped her. At the crotch of her outfit, four separate wires snaked under the lycra and felt as if they were secured to her labia. Jackie twisted her hips a little. Yes, there was no question, that was where they ended.
Two more wires slid beneath the material that sheathed her upthrust breasts. Catgirl jiggled experimentally. It would seem that these were gripping her nipples beneath the tightly extended fabric.
Whatever Marcus Darke had planned, it wouldn't be quick, and it wouldn't be pleasant.
Jackie twisted again to get a look at her situation. She was stretched in a spreadeagle position on a steel rectangular table. Her legs were locked embarrassingly wide apart. Each ankle had been clamped into a manacle of ferrocite, one of the few materials that Catgirl couldn't bend or break. Psi had apparently restored the choker with the mystic amulet, but against these bonds the added strength did her no good. Her wrists were cuffed in the same material, and pulled painfully above her head.
At least the amulet had restored her other powers. She now had the benefit of the keenly enhanced feline senses; touch, smell, hearing, eyesight and taste were all far beyond the ken of a "normal" woman. Catgirl could see the rest of what was in store for her even in the dimly lit room.
Above the table was a shatterproof cube of lexite. Based on its position and size, Jackie quickly deduced that it was going to be lowered over her bound form. The cube had small breathing holes drilled into the sides, so airflow wasn't going to be a problem...but the costumed crimefighter couldn't think of any purpose to it. She was already helpless. Why cover her with a transparent box?
These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hall beyond. Catgirl's exceptional hearing picked up the rhythm of Marcus Darke, accompanied by Psi.
"Hello, my pretty little kitty" Marcus jibed as he entered the room. Psi was following in his wake a half step behind. "I hope you're enjoying your stay so far.."
"Actually, I'm finding it a bit cramped in here...perhaps you could free me for a stretch?"
"Always the witty remark, eh?" Marcus laughed. "As leader of the Femme 4, I wanted to make sure that you received some very special treatment. After all, I needed to return the favor for all the trouble you've caused me ."
He walked to a console, and withdrew a remote control device. "I thought perhaps we should peer in on your friends before we get underway; would you like that?"
"Only if they're breaking you into tiny little pieces..." Catgirl retorted.
"Perhaps they are...Let's find out." Marcus clicked a button on the remote, and a monitor on the wall came to life. On the screen was a shuddering, sweat drenched captive moaning incessantly. It took Jackie a second to realize it was the powerful Buff, reduced to a helpless puppet. In the monitor, her bronze body was pulled outward to the four corners by metallic cylinders. Around her waist was a crushingly applied steel corset, with deadly looking screws. She was forced to swallow some vile substance through her gag, while more of the fluid fed into her vagina and anus by similarly inserted tubes. The incredible moaning grew in intensity as tears rolled down the captive's cheeks. Buff had no defense against assaults to her internal organs. This would be agony for her, since she had always been well nigh invulnerable on the exterior.
"Amusing, wouldn't you say?" asked Darke.
"Not to her.." responded the feline fighter quietly.
"Let's check in on Melt. I believe my wife Linda is overseeing her personally."
Another button was pushed. A sensuous ballet was being performed underwater in a huge holding tank. The lucious Melt was sucking on a rubber dildo, since it seemed to be her only supply of air. But the bound beauty did not have an inexhaustible supply. Jackie watched as the flow ended. Now the costumed superheroine was forced to squat to reach the air supply of a lower dildo. In doing so, a monstrously large porcupine phallus that had been set between the captive's legs was pressed upward. To reach the air, the beautiful Melt was forced to impale herself on the repulsive intruder, forcing it deep within her sex.
Jackie was disgusted by what was being done to her teammates. She pitied them for what they were going through, but realized that the punishment duo wasn't through with the team yet. She shifted uncomfortably on the table.
"My wife always knows how to get the best responses." Marcus stared at the prone heroine. "Which brings us to you. The first thing I'm sure you discovered are the wires. Plastic coated titanium, and quite expensive really. They are currently gripping the four corners of your labia and both of your nipples with alligator clamps."
Catgirl gazed down at the fabric of her costume, realizing now what the bulges were.
"As the tension in each wire increases, the clamps will automatically tighten. But what could create such tension, you ask?" Marcus smiled. "I'm glad you asked." He depressed a button on the remote. In the background, the monitor with Melt's struggles shut down, while from the table beneath her Jackie felt a slight hum. Six metal poles, each one inch in diameter, rose from holes in the table.
Two of the poles were directly adjacent to each black-sheathed breast, about six inches away. Two poles were next to each knee, on the inside of each thigh. The final two struts were above each hip, below her ribcage. Catgirl was getting a bad feeling about the placement of the poles, especially since the wires fed directly to pulleys at the top of each strut.
"Let's snug you up a bit." Saying this, Darke slid a small lever upward. A slight whirring sound emanated from the table, as the pulleys at the top of each support began rolling outward. In the body of the table, powerful winches began tightening, reeling the wire back onto six separate spools in the recesses below the captive heroine.
"UUUUHHHHH!" Catgirl moaned.
Each wire was now almost taut on its own respective pulley. Her sensitive sex was being lightly pulled in four separate 90 degree angles, and the sensation was less than pleasant. Even with her costume on, the clips were prominent beneath the material as they extended outward. Both nipples were flat against the firmly jutting breasts, which were beginning to stretch horizontally to the nearest matched pole.
"Marcus, you don't have to do this.." Catgirl responded. She knew that her plea was probably useless, but she had few other recourses at this point.
"We aren't really finished with 'this' yet, Catgirl." Marcus continued. "I want to ensure that you understand the whole picture, if you'll pardon the innuendo." Psi giggled beside him. "My assistant returned your mystic amulet for a very specific purpose. Am I to understand that with the amulet attached, your sense of touch is greatly enhanced?
"No, no need to answer that yet. It's the only reason you have it on now. I want your sense of touch to be as sensitive as possible for my plans. Let me complete the scenario". Another button was pushed.
The lexite cube slowly descended, enclosing the costumed crimefighter in a perfectly clear display case. Catgirl's world had narrowed to the transparent sides of a claustrophobic lexite box.
"I assume you can still hear me, yes?"
Catgirl nodded her head almost imperceptibly.
"Good. Now for the Scratching Post." Another whirring as the remote pointed at her, and a ribbed rubber phallus rose ominously from the table. But there was something odd about the motion of the device. It was standing vertically from the table, not horizontally. It was apparently not designed to insert itself into her, but was intended for some other purpose. And Catgirl knew that Marcus would be only too happy to explain it to her.
"The Scratching Post is there for your amusement, Catgirl. As you can see, and no doubt feel, it is pressed very close to your clitoris. If you push downward, and rub yourself against it, you can probably work yourself up to an orgasm."
Marcus smiled knowingly. "I'd suggest you do that quite frequently, my dear. The sensors in the wires will detect any orgasm, and will stop and release the winches slightly. Within a few minutes, the winches will reactivate, tightening inexorably outward once more.
"If you time your orgasms correctly, you can prevent an agonizingly painful stretch of your private areas. If not, well...at least the show will be amusing!" Marcus thought for a moment. "I think the machine has an eventual failsafe, but I'm not at all certain what you'd look like at that point, so I'd suggest you play along."
"You BASTARD!!!" Catgirl screamed, as she realized the full intent of Darke's plans. "When I get out of this, I'm going to make you sorry you were ever born!"
"My dear little Catgirl, in a very short time you will be begging to do whatever I say" Marcus replied. "Just ask your daughter."
"GAAAHHH!!" Jackie screamed wildly as she tore at her bonds. Venomous green eyes sliced at her tormentor. She would have killed him instantly if she had been free to do so. Her thrusting body continued to pull at the ferrocite as she screamed invectives at Darke.
"Oh my...such a temper...It looks like you need something else to occupy your time." Marcus pressed another button. The invectives stopped as Catgirl stared in horror at the methodically tightening winches. The slow pull had begun.
Darke turned to go. "Oh, one other thing.. Since it might get boring for you with the same old routine, I've arranged for the climate in your container to vary drastically. That's what the lexite is for. It will contain the new weather conditions until your next orgasm.
"Enjoy your stretch, my little sex kitten!" Marcus laughed as he headed for the door. "I'm going to relish watching the video playback of your adventure for years to come." Catgirl's eyes popped as she saw the camera descend before the tank, recording her debasement for Darke's amusement.
The captive crimefighter gave one last pleading look at Psi, hoping that the girl would finally return to her senses. But behind Blade's mask, the only emotion that radiated outward was lust. The door clanged shut with an awful finality as the pair exited the chamber.
Once the deadbolt locked into place, Jackie started to work furiously to free herself from the bonds securing her. Sweat beaded on her brow as she worked at the manacles, unable to get the leverage to loosen them. Within a few minutes the pain began to escalate as the wires tightened. Catgirl continued to work on the bonds, hoping that by loosening them she could avoid the fiendish deathtrap. Several minutes later her pubic area was afire, the pain too intense to ignore. She began bearing down on "The Post", trying to ignore the sharp pangs from her nipples and sex.
It was a seesawed battle, and a close call for the captive heroine. With the pain flaring into her, it was incredibly difficult to become aroused. No arousal, no orgasm...and no orgasm, no relief from the tightening wires. Catgirl's hips were shuddering up and down ferociously as she worked to achieve her goal. The ribbed speed bumps flexed hard against an erotically charged sex to drive the point home. Eventually, sexual prowess won out. A shaking, juddering orgasm ripped through her body as she pushed hard on the vertical post.
"AAAhhhhhhhhhh......." Catgirl moaned.
A clicking sound emanated from the machine, and a wash of relief filled the captive as the tension eased back to almost the original level. Almost... Catgirl realized that the "snugging up" had been just a little looser than where she was right now. Suddenly, she realized Darke's plan. Each orgasm would release the winches to a lesser and lesser degree!
Catgirl was bathed in real fear now. She could time her sexual antics perfectly, and the process would still be a losing battle. It wasn't whether or not she lost...it was when. Jackie realized she had no choice but to ride the edge of the wave, delaying each orgasm until the last possible second, when it was most needed. Unfortunately, 'most needed' meant 'most painful' since the wires were tightening all the time. Too many orgasms, and each successive release would accomplish less and less. Not enough orgasms, and the overwhelming pain would prevent her from achieving one at all.
Jackie stared at the whirring camera, realizing that Marcus was probably watching at this very moment. She began to gently scratch again, keeping her arousal at a level where she could reach it if needed.
Just when things couldn't get any worse, they did. Catgirl was commiserating on her fate when she realized that she was shivering. The reaction wasn't from her condition, but from a decided temperature drop in the cube. The reflections of the cube revealed a thermometer beside her head. Her enhanced eyesight read the reflection easily. 40 degrees, and dropping. The sweat on her body dried quickly as the needle finally came to rest at 32 degrees. So this was one of the new "weather conditions" that Darke had planned for her!
All of her muscles were shivering from the intense cold as Catgirl forced herself to paw at the post. If she didn't orgasm soon, the cold would prevent her from building up the needed steam to do so. Within a minute the valiant captive had excited her sex enough for a duplicate performance. The tension eased off again as the winches released. Trembling muscles eventually subsided as the endorphins washed through the captive heroine.
Catgirl hadn't had the time or the frame of mind to enjoy the experience. She felt that she had 'wasted' this reaction, since the wires weren't really that painful at the time. The biting cold had been the enemy to avoid at all costs.
With the ease in pressure, Catgirl began struggling furiously with the ferrocite bonds, determined to break or at least bend them this time. Her nipples heaved painfully outward as her torso twisted to and fro. Her labia, engorged from the rubbing they had received on the scratching post, were prominently visible through her costume. Four separate alligators bit furiously, painfully securing their hold on juice soaked captive lips.
Inside the cube, a light rain had begun to fall, soaking into the black- lycra costume, accentuating every move of the lithe feminine body as it sinously writhed in an attempt to escape.....
Buff was ready to do anything they asked at this point. Her reserves of defiance had been depleted some time ago. With the inserts still in place, the disgusting green fluid continued to worm its way into her suspended body. Her stomach and innards had roiled and twisted, growling in dissatisfied complaint at the liquid intrusion.
Drina wanted deperately to evacuate the contents. They were insistently demanding release. But the inflated portion of the plugs held the fluid trapped, so there was no escape from Buff's insides. The compressive clamp surrounding her waist only exacerbated the situation, pressing the liquids both upward and downward inside her body. Tears rolled down her cheeks steadily now, as the punishment continued. Buff had never been exposed to anything this humiliating, or this painful, since acquiring her powers. She simply wasn't prepared for what an ingenious man like Marcus Darke could do to a superheroine.
It was at this point that Darke strode back into the room, with Blade in tow. Across the room, a desperate pair of eyes locked with his. Drina's silent pleading eyes begged for an end to the inflation.
"So, my little Drina, not so powerful now are you?" he questioned. "I think perhaps we'll move on to the next phase, since I can see you've had your fill of this one."
Darke motioned to Psi, who released the pressure in the tubes within Buff.
"MMMMMMMMmmmmmmpphhhh!......"
For several minutes both spectators watched as the chained beauty evacuated her contents. Marcus then thought the next command, and Psi responded by conscientiously rinsing off the waste from the unfortunate victim.
Once Drina was clean, albeit soaking wet, Marcus intently stared at Psi again.
"I thought perhaps we could now catalog your insides more closely. Since they are the only part of you that is vulnerable, it is important to have a complete 'road map' as it were."
Darke reached over to a table, and opened a mahogany case, about the size of a cigar box. Nestled inside were three small metallic objects, each about one inch long. They looked like drug capsules, only considerably larger. Marcus held one up for the inspection by the recipient. Drina noted that the sides of the capsule had miniature treads, almost like a small bulldozer. The fear began to rise in her eyes.
"That's right, my dear Drina, the Burrowers are going to make an in- depth inspection. I suspect that the size and location of the passages that they will explore will cause you some intense pain. But, as I've always said, no pain - - no gain!". Marcus laughed as he handed the devices to Psi and she began to approach the struggling Buff.
Buff twisted and pulled for all she was worth, but the exertions only succeeded in a further tightening of the corset around her waist. The first insert was nudged gently against her sphincter by the waiting Psi. Within a few moments a slight trembling began, and the treads initiated their motion. The disgusting device was actually crawling inside her!! Drina begged Psi to stop with pleading eyes, but the girl was too sharply within Marcus' control. Blade simply smiled up at her.
The second device was fed into her gag, where it began to inch down her throat. Buff choked for a second as it passed her airway, on its trip to who knew where.
"MMMM-NNNNN!" Buff protested as she saw the third burrower approach.
Psi pulled the crotch of Buff's costume aside, toying with the final device. She teasingly rubbed it back and forth across the captive's labia, until Drina began to get aroused. Psi smiled, nestling the device firmly between the engorged lips.
Once again, a slight rumbling indicated the activation. Buff struggled furiously as she felt each of the three begin to move inside her. The distinct sensation of tiny little treads was disconcerting as they moved upward, and downward also.
It was then that Drina realized that Marcus had not left the room yet. He and Buff were still watching intently, as if waiting for something.
Suddenly, a stabbing pain erupted from deep within Buff's vagina! The intensity of pain caught the heroine completely unprepared, and she began to spasm involuntarily. The captive writhed in her bonds for several long seconds until the sensation finally subsided.
"Ah, I see the probes have begun to take their samples." Marcus commented. "Each probe will extract a tiny amount of tissue at multiple locations within you. My labs can then study the samples at a later point, to discover how we can make your outsides as vulnerable as your insides.
"I'm sure you'll find the process quite fascinating. Depending on the location, the probes may extract samples continuously for up to fifteen minutes. The removals will be exceedingly painful, to say the least.
"Come along Psi, we'll record the process on videotape for later perusal."
Another intense flash of pain erupted from within Buff's colon as the device began to take samples there also.
"MMGHHHHHHMMMMPPPHHHH!!!" exclaimed the captive Drina as the extraction continued, for the space of almost thirty seconds. Her body was drenched in sweat as the muscles tightened of their own volition in a desperate attempt to escape the assault.
Above and before her, a camera descended to record the spectacle of Buff's demise. Drina couldn't decide which was worse, the long continuous agony of unrelease from her previous punishment, or the lightning flares of acute misery that the Burrowers represented. As two sampled at once, the lovely Drina was again caught in the throes of muscular spasms as her body reacted violently to the all too intimate invasion...
Linda swam near the humiliated Melt as the heroine continued to perform her macabre dance with the dildo. Jasmine couldn't decide which was more disturbing...the porcupine that she had to repeatedly force into herself or the hands grasping with easy familiarity onto every private part of her body.
Linda Darke seemed to take great delight in surprising the lovely Melt when her attention was distracted. Each thrust downward required careful positioning and concentration to launch the dildo deep into her body.
It was at these moments when the swimmer would do something unexpected to fluster her guest. Just as Jasmine had worked the crotch of her costume to one side and had begun to press the phallus against her submerged lovelips, the diver had poked hard with an index finger directly between her protesting nates.
The costume pulled and bunched to the rear, as a startled Melt accidentally let slip some of her precious air in surprise. At the crotch of the outfit, Jasmine had to once again work the fabric to one side and reposition herself to continue the fight for air.
The next thrust downward produced a set of razor sharp fingernails across her breasts, the claws raking across the spandex to dig deeply into the firm, soft flesh below. Red lines sprang up immediately where the costume hadn't covered the struggling heroine.
And so it went, as her tormentor continuing to surprise and confuse the already overwhelmed Melt. She never knew where the temptress would appear, or what she would do to her captive to ensure maximum discomfort.
Linda seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of items for her use, most of which were blurry shapes at the bottom of the tank to the captive Melt. She now reached down for another of these as the heroine continued her thrusts up and down.
When Jasmine finally turned to see what her companion was doing, she had a hard time making out exactly what was grasped in the diver's hands. It appeared to be two rubber cups, fitted (by seeming coincidence) to be exactly the shape of Melt's perfectly formed breasts.
On each cup, a series of thin springs radiated from the nipple outward, ending at the edge of the rim. Directly at the center of the each unusual device was a thin tube that seemed to plug into the cacophony of springs. Rubber straps looked as if they would hold the device tightly against her ribcage.
What concerned Melt even more though was what the tubes were attached to. There was no question that it was a rubber pair of panties. The small holes at the front and back would allow the water to flow through easily, and the huge hole in the crotch would allow other things through. Jasmine already knew what.
Linda lovingly fed the rubber bra beneath the captive's costume, stretching and shaping it so it adhered perfectly to the jutting breasts. Then the panties were worked into position. This took a fair amount of time, since the superheroine continued her self abuse during the entire escapade. Once a foot was free, the captive Melt tried to kick furiously outward, or to stop the advance of the rubber outfit, but the water slowed her motion to ineffectual struggles.
The two combatants sparred with each other in a duel to avoid the plans of the other. But Linda Darke's position in the battle was obviously superior, hampered as Melt was by the bondage. Between thrusts, Linda finally managed to pull the rubber bottoms into position. A carefully placed manipulation ensured that Jasmine would feel every inch of what was in store for her.
The panties had a small triangular section with an extended knob, which now pressed directly onto her clitoris, but in no way hampered the motions of the huge rubber porcupine beneath her. A similar knob extended in the back of the costume, pushing aside the spandex to nudge gently at her sphincter muscles. The bra-cups smoothly sucked onto her breasts, the thin tubes creating just enough of a vacuum to be erotic.
Jasmine looked on with dread as Linda Darke reached to a device at the bottom of the tank and pushed a small button downward.
If the motions she had been undergoing prior to this had been partially erotic and exciting, the new situation for the captive Melt was a hundred times worse.
Every nerve and fiber of her being was sexually stimulated as the rubber outfit went to work with a passion. The bra-cups sucked and nuzzled, pulled and pleased, teased and tormented. Their perfect prisoners relayed every message upward. The rubber panties gripped relentlessly, allowing no escape from the knobs twitching within them. Jasmine's clit was being prodded, rubbed, manipulated until her muscles tightened within seconds of each assault. An electric tingling flashed into her from behind as the rear intruder tickled the protesting muscles there.
The intense stimulation was more erotic, more sexually exciting than anything Melt had ever experienced. She couldn't believe the raw power emanating from her sexual arousal as every muscle went taut within seconds of the button being pressed. She was on a buildup to detonation, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Melt tried furiously to avoid it, knowing the pleasure Linda Darke would get from seeing her lose control. Jasmine pulled viciously at the bonds, bit into her lip, pushed hard with her legs, all in an effort to misdirect the flow of sensation that threatened her. But her tormentor had planned this too well. Linda swam to the front, watching in anticipation as the shuddering Melt continued to fight the inevitable. It would be only seconds now, as Jasmine began another downward thrust for air....
The orgasm exploded within Melt, a freight train of awesome devastation, leaving a trail of electrified nerve endings in its wake. She rocked wildly in her bonds, smashing into the pole as frenzied muscles lost conscious control. A tidal wave of rippling pleasure crashed from her toes to her head and back down again, until every neuron was lit up like the noonday sun. It was an astonishing display, as the heroine was riddled with spasms due to the repeated assaults from within. During the entire escapade, Linda Darke was smiling behind her diving mask.
After what seemed an eternity, the flow of pleasure finally subsided and Melt was able to take control of her body again. She wouldn't have believed that such a height of orgasm intensity was possible, had she not just lived through it. Jasmine quickly rose to retrieve more air, the incredible display having drained her in more ways than one.
Linda Darke floated to and fro, watching for almost an hour as the performance was repeated by the bound heroine several more times. Though none matched the raw intensity of the first occurrence, each orgasm left the beautiful Melt shaking and weak. There was no question that her captor was enjoying every minute of the astonishing show.
Eventually, Linda Darke lovingly removed the rubber outfit from the captive crimefighter. It had served its purpose for now. Besides, it looked like the straining Melt was now ready for her next toy....
In the deadly lexite display room, the video camera dutifully recorded the frenzied struggles of Catgirl. After two hours in the Catbox, the superheroine was finally reaching her limits.
It was getting intensely difficult for the captive to bring relief from the painful torture supplied by Marcus Darke. Only orgasms would loosen the winches. Unfortunately, the shapely heroine was finding them impossible to achieve.
After 120 minutes within the lexite, Catgirl had rubbed herself raw against the scratching post. Her swollen lips burned in agony whenever she tried to apply pressure to the post. The stretchy lycra fabric had continuously ground against her clit, for what now seemed like an eternity. The pain of being stretched was now less than the pain of trying to force herself back onto the post.
During the entire time, the Catbox had made her surroundings as unpleasant as possible. She had sweated profusely in 130 degree heat. She had coughed spasmodically in a thin fog of smoke. She had breathed heavily in a mostly carbon dioxide atmosphere. Each successive orgasm had supplied a new and uncomfortable environment, pushing her to strain for relief before she could dwell on an escape plan.
The current setting was intense, blistering sunlight. Jackie could feel the sunburn starting on the exposed portions of her skin, heating it beyond endurance. The light gave the camera an opportune moment to record some close-ups of her black clad suffering body.
And Catgirl was suffering. She had paid a high price for the last orgasm, to avoid the choking smoke. Her gyrating hips had pushed hard onto the post and now her overstimulated sex yelped in pain at the slightest contact. Jackie knew that she had lost. There was simply no way she could force herself back onto the post this time.
The cables were reminding her about the price of disobedience. As the wires tightened the clamps bit more viciously to maintain their hold. The intense, agonizing combination was beyond any previous description of pain that Catgirl knew. She peered fearfully downward, the newest assault causing the tears to well in her eyes.
Peeking out from each corner of the crotch of her costume, her fulsome labia greeted her swimming eyesight. They had stretched that far! The alligator clamps were clearly visible now, as were the deep indentations they made in her abused love lips.
Catgirl's nipples also poked out beyond the edge of her costume, pulled beyond endurance to a never believed level. Beneath the table, the winches continued their steady pull.
Catgirl was delirious from the agony, and it took her several moments to realize that the long, continuous scream was coming from her own throat. Her entire body was rippling in pain, trembling and shaking like a black sheathed vibrator. Her legs and arms locked in stiffened combat against the unrelenting bonds as the winches notched the pain up another level. The camera lovingly recorded a close-up of her shuddering spastic labia as they writhed in the crushing grip.....
Suddenly, the door exploded inward....
Buff and Psi were framed in the shards of the remaining doorframe. The war inside of Tiffany's psyche had finally reached a conclusion; Blade had lost (at least for now). Psi, once freed of the mind control, had released the member of the team that was under the least scrutiny. With Linda directly involved in tormenting Melt, and Darke probably watching Catgirl, Buff had seemed the best bet to the young heroine. She had been correct.
Buff looked down with shock and dismay when she realized what had been done to Catgirl. Jackie's quivering body still shuddered in agony, and was intensely spotlighted like a fleeing convict.
Buff ripped the lexite box upward, the motion breaking the contact for the power supply. Room lighting returned to normal as the spotlight flared out. A mighty uppercut into the camera exploded the electronic voyeur into scrap metal, a thousand pieces flying to all corners of the room.
In the meantime, Psi had tried to unclip the upper cables, only to discover that the alligator teeth were too deeply imbedded to allow release. The cables had tightened to the point where only a lessening of the tension would allow removal.
Buff had an answer for this. She grabbed each strut and bent it inward toward the distressed damsel. Now Psi was able to remove the torturous clips with little difficulty. Once this was done, Drina snapped the manacles on the bound beauty, catching Jackie in her arms as the exhausted heroine collapsed.
"Thank...Thank you..." whispered Catgirl as the pain diminished.
"We need to find Melt. Are you able to move?" asked Buff.
"If it means getting out of this room, ...I can do whatever it takes.." responded the slowly recovering crimefighter.
The three members were led by Psi to the cell holding the imprisoned Melt. Another door exploded into pieces as Buff vented her rage at what had been done to them. Moving through the doorway, the three encountered the subdued Melt.
Inside the plexiglass tube, the barely costumed crimefighter was being assaulted from a set of arms that wrapped around her from behind. The crotch of her outfit had been pulled far aside, allowing entry of the porcupine cock below her.
As if this weren't bad enough, a set of fingers was pulling and pinching her labia as Melt struggled upward and downward to continue breathing.
Another hand was tightly gripping one breast, twisting the nipple as if it were some rebellious radio dial. The other nipple, also exposed, had obviously already undergone this treatment; it was fat and darkly reddened as it thrust outward from the perfectly formed breast. At the bottom of the tank, several painful looking objects had apparently gotten some heavy use recently. The three entering vigilantes could guess when and where.
Melt saw her rescuers immediately. To her credit, she did nothing that would alert the figure behind her of the presence of interlopers. She continued her stretch (upward this time) as if nothing had happened.
In an instant, Catgirl flung herself at the plexi, using her staff to smash a hole in the center of the abusive display. The pressure of the water was not to be contained; the entire column buckled under the assault, spilling hundreds of gallons of water across the floor of the dungeon.
Also spilled across the floor was a startled Linda Darke, replete in a rubber diving suit. Somewhat taken aback by the quick turn of events, she struggled to regain her footing as the slick floor reeled beneath her.
Catgirl never gave her the chance. A smashing blow with the staff felled the brunette, and the unconscious body fell back to the floor.
So angry was Catgirl, however, that the rod was raised for another (and probably another after that) strike. Buff grasped the staff in midswing, stopping it easily with her powerful hands.
"Jackie, you can't...I know how you feel, but we need her alive!!"
Catgirl seethed with uncontrolled fury. "Let go, Buff...Let go or so help me I'll go through you if I have to!"
Buff stood her ground, however, eyeing Jackie with a mix of emotions that spoke of shame, anger, humiliation, and understanding.
Catgirl looked at Psi. The same gaze was leveled at her from her adopted daughter. The Femme 4 had always shared a common bond, one of trust and friendship. But the newest bond was one that they had never experienced. Now the question was how to deal with it.
"If she so much as twitches, I'm going to give her a crack on the skull that her descendants will feel.." complained Catgirl as she lowered the staff with incredible reluctance.
In the background, Melt had been watching the exchange. With the flow of oxygen returned to her body, she concentrated on each bond successively. The manacles simply melted off her wrists and ankles as she applied her powers.
Then Melt fastidiously readjusted her costume to cover the parts that Linda Darke had taken such delight in abusing.
"Let's go find the master of the house, shall we?" Melt suggested.
"By all means" replied Catgirl. "I promised that I would return his payment to me, with appropriate interest."
The Femme 4 trussed Linda Darke tightly, and set her in a corner until they could return for her. Striding through the dim corridors in pairs, the four slowly made their way upward into the main mansion.
Burnished hardwood floors adorned the den, where the secret entrance to Marcus Darke's dungeons exited. Velvet drapes accentuated the look, and the four heroines glanced at the first light of day that they had seen in many hours.
Splitting up into two teams, the women made a thorough search of the entire grounds. From the vast tome-filled libraries to the small writing rooms, every nook and cranny was uncovered. After several hours, one thing became painfully obvious.
Marcus Darke had escaped.
Psi had discovered one other thing of interest. In a surveillance room filled with monitors and recording equipment a series of high tech CD-ROM and 8 mm tape machines filled one wall. Each combination seemed to record the events of the screens directly opposite to it.
The monitors were still on. Displayed in the control room were the remaining hidden cameras. One room reflected a broken lexite box, with a series of titanium wires strewn across a steel table. Another showed a series of cylindrical power sappers, with three large bags filled with a greenish substance standing nearby. The last active monitor showed a smashed plexiglass tank, with a porcupine dildo exposed to the air.
Opposite the monitors, every single piece of recorded media was notoriously missing. The drawers had been intentionally left in the open position. Whoever had removed the recorded images wanted the searchers to know that the events would never be forgotten.
Fuming in impotent rage, the four returned to their captive.
Linda Darke was in a furor when they returned.
"Release me at once!" she demanded.
"Oh, I don't think so," responded Melt. "I think we'll just try a few of these playrooms on you instead. Unless of course, you want to tell us where your husband is."
"Never!!" responded the captive.
"Good!" retorted Catgirl, as she began lustfully eyeing the gadgets strewn about the room.
The sound of footsteps echoing in the hall broke off the thoughts that she was planning, however. Catgirl's superior hearing picked up the distinct clacking that she knew only to well, and she screamed in rage. Their revenge was to be denied.
Captain Murdock entered the room, accompanied by four other officers in the 52nd precinct. He eyed the scene, his keen analytical mind summing up what must have happened within these rooms only hours ago.
Damn, thought Murdock, I missed the best part of the show.
"I would have arrived sooner, ladies, but the precinct just got the tip from an anonymous caller. They said that there was a break- in at the Darke mansion. We discovered several stolen pieces of artwork upstairs."
"That's not all that was stolen..." whispered Psi under her breath.
Catgirl shot her a sympathetic glance. "You can arrest this 'person', officer. She's been involved in more heinous crimes than robbery, but I guess that's a start."
Two of the officers approached Linda Darke. While one of them read her rights, the other was releasing the intricate ropework in favor of handcuffs. Unseen by the Femme 4, Linda was grinning ear to ear. She knew there would be no fingerprints on the stolen art, and that there would be evidence of a burglary of their own goods on the premises. Her husband had planned well for this contingency. The police would never be able to prove anything officially, and their timely intervention had saved her from long hours of interrogation by the Femme 4.
As the police led her toward the door, Linda turned toward the four women.
"Well ladies, it's been a pleasure... adieux for now...until my husband and I meet up with you again!"
Each of the crimefighters glared at Darke as she was led away. In that mix of emotions there was hatred, anger, fear, humiliation, and....perhaps a little bit of anticipation? There was no question that the next meeting would be cataclysmic...and that lives would be changed forever.. for the heroines known as...The FEMME 4!