The Adventures of the Amazon Avenger, Chapter 3: Trey’s Chick

Her Hummer seemed miles away. Get up, Daria, she told herself. She rose on sheer force of will and stumbled over to stand in the downpour from the shattered hydrant. She scrubbed herself clean in the clear cold water, wiping away filth and gore with her bare hands as she shuddered. She cleaned herself as best she could. She tried not to think about it, tried not to see the broken bodies, tried not to remember what they’d done to her.

Defeated – shot, knocked out, and chained.

Tortured – dragged through the streets behind a speeding motorcycle, slammed at every turn into whatever was there to break her flight, forced to swallow half a bottle of cheap vodka.

Humiliated – stripped bare, chained spread-eagled three feet off the ground, tossed like trash on a filthy mattress in a reeking alley. So drunk and disoriented that her body betrayed her, responding to them like a slut as they laughed and abused her again and again.

Raped – over and over again, two dozen men – maybe more, God knows how many times each, hands and mouths and dicks everywhere all the time, her whole world made of abuse, pain, and degradation.

The Amazon Avenger stood naked in the street, cold water from a broken hydrant fountaining over her still flawless body as the sun rose over her horrific carnage. Her ink-black hair clung gleaming to her skull, trailing slowly clearing rivulets over breasts, back, and belly.

Behind her Road Hogs vanished in a flash of fire. Her Opal-enhanced reflexes gave her just enough time to spin and see the blast – and the wall of debris rushing at her.

She came to in the back seat of a limousine.

She was alone, still naked, still soaking wet. I have to be dreaming, she thought. Or dead.

The door opened, and someone tossed in some fluffy white towels and a matching terry robe before closing it again. She dried herself off, enjoying the feel of the thirsty cotton on her skin, and wrapped the robe tight around her body.

The door opened again, and a powerfully built black man in an immaculate ivory three-piece suit joined her in the car. He had a shaven head and small piercing eyes on either side of a nose that had been broken a few too many times. His wide open-mouthed grin showed a mouthful of white teeth like carefully aligned tree stumps.

"Name’s Trey," he said, extending a big meaty hand. "Trey Gunn, of the Four-Two Crew. I saw what you did last night. What they did to you – that’s messed up. Guess it won’t happen again, though!" His booming laugh seemed to reverberate in the plush car as it pulled away.

Daria took his hand cautiously. "Call me the Amazon Avenger," she said.

"Amazon Avenger," he said, leaning back with crossed arms. "Damn. That is some serious shit. Maybe I’ll get my boy to draw you a comic book. You sure got the body for it, you know?"

"Thanks," she said dryly. "Look, why don’t you just take me to my car and – "

"The Hummer?" He shook his head as he poured two glasses of Cristal. "I’m sorry, but that’s gone. We had a bomb in Road Hogs, and when it went up a few bricks and bikes landed on your ride. Not good for much now. Someplace I could drop you?"

Daria couldn’t go back to her penthouse – it wouldn’t be five minutes before her secret identity would be all over the net. She shook her head.

"I live in the Hummer," she said.

"No more," Trey told her. He handed her an elegant crystal flute. "Have a drink – it’s champagne, best in the world. On me."

She knew she shouldn’t. Her head pounded from the half-bottle of vodka forced down her throat a few hours ago. Hair of the dog, I guess, she thought, and sipped with a shrug.

"Thanks," she said. "So you had a bomb in the bar."

Trey nodded, savoring his champagne. "C4 in the basement. Planned it for months. Dumb crackers never saw it coming. We even had webcams to watch it all go down. How we saw you." He shook his head. "Sorry about all that – it’s not right, what they did to you."

"You didn’t stop it," she said coldly.

Trey put down his drink and looked her in the eye. "I send my men in there like the cavalry, and there’s a lot worse than bombs going off. A lot of people get hurt, killed. They don’t deserve it. You don’t, either – but at least you walked away.

"Besides, you got yours back," Trey laughed. "Did me a big favor – we was all set to go in full force, wipe up what didn’t get blowed up. I would’ve lost some good men that way. Now I won’t."

"Glad I could help." Daria finished her champagne. "So where are we going?"

"Your place’s gone," he said. "Guess it’s my place. Get you some clothes, let you rest up. Got a doctor if you need one. I owe you for what you did back there. Four-Two Crew and Deadriders been at war a long time now. War’s over. Maybe we get you a Nobel Prize or something, right?"

Daria looked at him skeptically. "Yeah, sure," she said.

"Dead serious," Trey caught her eye again. "You don’t know me. But my word’s gold. And I could’ve left you back there for the cops, let them haul you off to jail for killing all them cracker bastards. Or maybe the Deadriders’ friends might take you for another ride. But here you are, in my ride, drinking my wine."

"OK, I get it," Daria said. "Thank you."

"No problem," Trey shrugged. "You look tired. Be a while before we get to my place. Take a nap, you want to."

Daria curled up in the opposite corner of the limo and let herself drift off.

Trey’s place was a sleek modern two-story villa on a bluff overlooking the beach. The walls were smoked glass and gleaming white paint; an immaculate lawn, soft and springy as a golf green, surrounded the house like the velvet in a jewelry box.

Trey stood beside her as she took it all in. "Nice place," she said.

"Mi casa, su casa," he said. Two girls in bright golden bikinis stepped out the double front doors, strutting their stuff in almost impossibly high heels. Trey slipped an arm around each of them with a broad grin.

"These lovely ladies," he said, kissing them each in turn, "are the Sanches twins, Brandy and Sherry. Girls, this is the Amazon Avenger. Take her to the guest suite and get her anything she needs."

The girls smiled knowingly. "Please come with us, Ms. Avenger," Brandy said.

Daria followed her into the house, with Sherry close behind. Trey had a beautiful home full of gorgeous furnishings, expensive artwork, and stylishly dressed people. Guess crime pays after all, she thought. Brandy led her upstairs to a beautiful room with a patio overlooking the pool and the ocean beyond.

"This is your suite," Brandy told her. "The bathroom is here. If you need anything, there are intercoms in every room."

"We’ll get you some clothes," Sherry said. "What size do you wear?"

Daria told her. Sherry nodded, but Daria thought she caught the slightest sign of envy on her face. Like you’re not gorgeous yourself, she thought.

"Please call if you need anything," Brandy said. "We should have your clothes ready in a couple of hours."

The door swung shut behind them, leaving Daria alone in a bedroom nearly as luxurious as her own. Aubusson rugs in ivory and celadon soothed her bare feet as she examined the dark cherry furniture. She admired the sunlight glinting on the cut crystal glasses at the fully stocked bar. She started to pour herself a drink, then thought better of it and took a bottle of Perrier from the fridge with her to the bathroom.

She turned the shower up to scalding heat and stepped in with a sigh of relief. A lot better than a fire hydrant, that’s for damn sure, she thought.

Washing her hair, her hand brushed the Dark Opal’s choker. She knew what would happen, but she tried the clasp – it didn’t budge. She sighed, closed her eyes, and let the hot water run over her scalp and down her face.

She soaped and scrubbed and soaped and scrubbed until she felt clean again. Then she ran a bath in the immense marble tub, heavy on bath salts and lavender-scented bubbles, and slipped into it with a contented sigh.

Daria kept to herself the rest of the day. After the Deathriders, she’d had enough of people for a while. When she was hungry the Sanches twins brought her whatever she asked. She looked out at the ocean, and slept.

Midnight found her alone by the pool in a sleek black one-piece swimsuit, dangling her feet in the cool water as she stared at the stars. Quiet footsteps approached from behind.

"Beautiful night," Trey said quietly. She looked up – he was elegant in a burgundy silk robe and pajamas, with a snifter of brandy and a cigar in his hand.

"Yes," she said.

"I come here at night to think," he said. "You look out at the horizon, and you have to wonder what’s the other side. What’s coming, what it means. You too?"

"You’ve been very generous," she said. "And I appreciate it. I’m very grateful. But I know what you are."

"Me too," he said, sitting beside her. "So what?"

"Your gang controls most of the west side," Daria said.

"All of it, now," he said with a grin. "Thanks for that."

"You sell drugs and guns. You do blackmail and extortion. I should fight you. I will fight you. Not tonight, but I will fight you."

Trey shrugged. "There’s always gangs. Always. If not me, maybe someone worse. Damn sure no one better." He laughed. "You think about that, Ms. Miles?"

A chill raced up her spine. Trey looked at her and laughed again.

"Yeah, that’s right. I know your name. Get a lot of information off the internet these days. Names, addresses, secret identities. You busted up that punk Neopreen, now the Deathriders, too. But not the Four-Two Crew."

"You think I can’t?" she hissed.

"Know you won’t." His grin was radiant in the dark. "Got a lot of video from Neopreen’s webcams down by the docks and mine out by Road Hogs. I turn that loose, your secret’s out. Way out. World wide web out. And every sick freak in the city beats a path to your penthouse door."

Her hand flashed up and grabbed his throat before he could blink. "I could kill you right now," she snapped.

"You could, but you won’t. See this?" He opened his robe and showed her a pacemaker scar down his chest. "Had a little work done. Pacemaker, and a transmitter right next to my heart. The second it stops, everything I got on you – and everybody else – goes global. You kill me, and a train’s coming make you think the Deadriders were Boy Scouts."

Daria let him go. "What do you want, Trey?" she snapped. "You want me to look the other way and let you run the west side?"

Trey laughed again. "You think small. I got bigger plans for the city, and bigger plans for you. You keep your secret, Miss Daria Miles. I want the Amazon Avenger. She’s gonna be my bitch."

"You’ve got women," Daria said. "What’s one more?"

"Still thinkin’ small. I show everybody my new best friend the Amazon Avenger, and there’s no more talk about who’s the boss, who’s the man, who’s the big dog. It’s all me. Trey and the Four-Two Crew. No one mess with me when I got a superhero bodyguard. No one mess with the man that tames you."

"And on the side I’m your latest greatest fuck toy," she said. "You probably think I’ll do your men, too, and turn tricks on the side. Superhero by day, superslut by night."

"Some things are too good to share," he said. He patted her thigh like a prize-winning dog. "Like this," he said. The hand slid up her body to her breast, everything in his manner confident of total ownership. "And these."

"You bastard. Fuck you," she whispered.

He untied the top of her swimsuit. "You will, baby. You will."

She let the swimsuit slide down past her breasts as he lowered her to her back on the tile. They always start at the top, she thought.

Trey was no exception. Her spectacular D-cup breast just filled his massive hand. He squeezed gently and chuckled. "Made to fit," he said, then bent down to take her nipple in his lips.

Daria moaned. Trey worked her breasts like a virtuoso, sending slow waves of intensifying pleasure through her body. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his hair, giving in to the sensations he gave her.

He stopped after a few minutes to slide her swimsuit over her hips and down her legs. Daria looked up at him, and his great toothy grin beamed down at her. Trey took in every inch of her with his eyes before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to his bedroom.

A sable comforter covered his bed, and as he lowered her onto it he kissed her mouth with passion and skill. Daria loved the touch of mink. She wiggled slowly and sensuously on the bed, rolling over to savor the cool silky fur against her hot skin. Trey watched as he opened a bottle of Cristal. Opening a drawer on the nightstand, he tossed a vibrating dildo on the bed next to her.

"Give me a show," he said, sipping the champagne.

Trey watched for a while as Daria pleasured herself, sliding the dildo in and out with slow lingering strokes. She kept both hands on it, her arms pushing her breasts together. Her skin grew warm and flushed. She felt her nipples stiffen as she arched her back and twitched her hips, taking the dildo further into her to find just the right spot.

Trey sat on the bed beside her. As she lay there with her eyes closed, lost in her own pleasure, he kissed her on the mouth, neck, and breasts. He stretched out next to her, running his hand gently over her body. Her moans grew louder, building to wild cries.

Before she could climax, Trey took the toy from her hands. Through heavy-lidded eyes Daria saw him kneeling between her legs, his dick stiff and heavy in his hand. He touched the tip to her inner thigh, teasing her with a grin. Taking hold of her hips, he sat her up with her legs around his waist and buried his face in her breasts. His strong arms held her close as he tried to take her whole breast into his wide mouth, kissing and sucking with wild abandon as she ground her hips against him. She wanted him – despite herself, she wanted him inside her, now.

Then she was on her back again, and Trey was between her legs, and inside her. They moved together, rising, falling, hot sweat-drenched bodies locked together. Her teeth on his neck and shoulders. Her lips on his ear as he slid his strong grip up her thigh to knead her ass.

He came an instant before her, his seed inside her the final sensation that sent her over the edge. Daria’s world went wild in swooping arcs of bright nameless colors and sounds. Trey kept going, stayed inside her until she was done.

He rolled over beside her, one arm still under her with a hand on her hip. His index finger traced a slow line from her pussy up the line of her abdomen, teasing her nipple with a swirl and a flick, then gliding up between her breasts and over her throat to her lips. Daria snuggled in closer to him and fell asleep sucking on his finger.

"You’re mine now," he whispered, watching her sleep.

Something cold and wet trickled over her face and breasts, waking her. Trey had carefully moved her to the marble floor and was emptying a fresh bottle of very expensive champagne on her as she lay there.

"What the hell?" She started up, but Trey pushed her back down with his foot on her throat.

"Won’t always be like that," he told her. He smiled around his cigar. "Wine, roses, candlelight. Sometimes you’re my girl, sometimes you’re my bitch. Best get used to it now. Drink it up, bitch. Don’t miss a drop."

Daria spluttered as the sweet cold stream splashed her face. She opened her mouth and took in what she could, but he wouldn’t hold it steady – he wanted her to miss some.

A little ash fell on his champagne-sprinkled toes. "Got some on my foot," he told her. "Suck it off. Do it!"

She took his toes in her mouth and started sucking. Far above her Trey grinned as her luscious lips caressed his foot. When she’d cleaned every toe thoroughly with her mouth, he took his foot away.

"Now your tits," he said. "You best get it all off – don’t want you all sticky with my wine. And work it!"

Daria lifted her breasts to her mouth and started sucking her wet nipples. Her hands caressed and kneaded her supple D-cup breasts as her long agile tongue and full lips sucked and teased her nipples to thick stiffened nubs.

"That’s good," Trey said. He prodded her with his foot. "Now get on your knees and lick it off my floor. Lick it up like a dog. Lick it like a bitch."

Daria hid her clenched jaw behind waves of ink-black hair as she turned over. Trey had her naked on all fours at his feet, licking the champagne he’d poured over her off the marble floor. He’s gonna pay for this, she thought.

As she lapped up the spilled wine, Trey squatted down behind her. "Spread your legs, bitch. Show me that tight tasty cunt."

She obeyed, spreading her knees wide. Suddenly she yelped and jerked herself up – Trey had stubbed out his cigar on her tailbone, burning her. He seized a fistful of hair and slammed her face into the floor.

"I tell you to stop, bitch?" he shouted. "Get it clean, and don’t come up until I tell you. And work it this time! That floor is candy, you hear me?" Dazed and humiliated, Daria kept licking the floor. She tried to make it look as sexy as she could, tried to seem aroused by the feel of cold wet marble in her mouth, but the throbbing in her forehead and the burning rage of humiliation made it hard.

Without warning Trey jabbed his fingers into her pussy and anus, holding her like a bowling ball. His other hand snatched a fistful of hair and pulled it taut. She cried out, but kept sucking the floor like a lollipop. He worked his fingers inside her, probing and prodding as she crawled around trying to get every drop of spilled champagne. Daria’s lower body started to pulse and burn with powerful erotic sensations, making her arms and legs weak. But every time she started to sink helplessly to the floor, Trey pulled back on her hair and she was forced back up.

After a while the sweet champagne no longer slickened the floor; there was only her own saliva, and the bitter salt of her shamed, humiliated tears. Trey took his fingers out of her, but before she could sag in relief he jerked her head back by the hair. He slid away as she bent backwards, her knees still on the floor. Daria bent further and further, the pressure forcing her knees ever wider as the back of her head descended into his lap.

"That’s right," Trey purred. "I like you like that, bent over backwards. You’re gonna suck me like that, and suck me good."

His hard prick felt hot in her mouth. The strain in her back and legs drove shards of pain up and down her body. Her mouth and jaw were already sore. But Daria had no choice. Trey reached down and stuck his fingers back inside her as his other hand fondled her breasts.

He kept her like that the rest of the night. Every time she felt him about to climax, he made her stop and lay there, panting between the agony of her contorted body and the ecstasy his touch brought her. Finally, an eternity later, their bodies drenched in sweat, he went off with a loud whoop of victory. His hot semen sprayed over her, and without thinking she rubbed it into her breasts like lotion, moaning as his fingers inside her brought her to another blinding climax.

Trey laughed as she rolled over to lick him clean. The Amazon Avenger was his now, spectacular body and heroic soul.