Crimson Flare: Ape’s Grab for Power
by marat
Chapter Three
‘OOOhhhh, god.’ The heroine felt the tumult race through her
groin.
Nancy watched as Crimson Flare raised and lowered her hips,
again and again, trying to drive an imaginary prick ever deeper into her
screaming sex. The redhead smiled as she reached out and placed her fingers
against the enlarged clit, and began lightly striking at the hypersensitive
organ.
‘OOOoooohhhhhaaaaaagggggghhhhh!’ America’s Darling cried
out as the fantasy reached home.
The girl in denim used the fingers of her left hand to pull the
taut spandex of the avenger’s costume away from her body. She reached the
fingers of her right hand underneath, where she found the dampness had actually
soaked through the nylon tights that covered her still-quivering sex. At the
slightest touch of the redhead’s fingers, the masked heroine’s torso leapt
upward; the lightest scratch was magnified by her imaginings to be a monstrous
probe pressing into her most private area.
As Nancy gazed into the eyes that stared blankly out from behind
the black mask, she saw tears forming as the heroine’s breathing caught again
and again. Crimson Flare sobbed heavily as the sensuality gushed again from
her, unabashed and unabated.
Crimson Flare quivered with a demonic ecstasy. This was
her fullest fantasy. Bound, powerless, helpless, unable to use her great
strength to defend herself, yet still very conscious of that great strength;
the heroine flexed her muscles and filled her lungs—she felt her
strength as her costume tightened against the curvature of her petite form: she
felt the spandex as it played against her body. She looked down and saw the
glittering uniform in the bright lights of the room; she saw it for the first
time as criminals did—tightly clinging to her body, showing off every crevice,
every detail, from the nodules that capped her round breasts to the small but
defined cleft at her groin, showing off the feminine features that she had used
to her advantage throughout her crimefighting career. She felt the tactile
stimulation of the costume against her skin: the tight-fitting spandex hugged
her torso, cupping her breasts, pressing tightly against her flesh from her
collar to her groin; she was aware of the coolness of the synthetic fabric as
it highlighted her body; the shimmering nylon of her tights, holding her
shapely legs in a luminescent grip, showing off both their muscularity and
their round softness; even the shiny warmth of her black leather boots.
Everything that made her Crimson Flare was exulted in her imagination as it was
magnified by her very helplessness against the woman standing over her. The
defenseless heroine could feel the tingling inside her as helplessness played
its role in her sexual excitement.
‘Ooohh, dear god.’ The beautiful masked maiden was breathing
heavily. Sweat ran in rivulets from her face and neck. She could still feel the
fullness in her groin that indicated that her sexual fever had not yet run its
course. She plunged, insofar as she could within the limits imposed by the
ropes around her, seeking yet again that imaginary prick that would satisfy
her. Slowly, rhythmically, she circled her hips on that illusory probe; she
felt it growing within her, reaching out toward her fullest fruit. Then she
thrust herself upon the dreamed penis again, hoping that its length would
satisfy the lust that was consuming her. She stiffened her back, seeking to
press herself against this fantasy.
‘Uuuuuggghhhh—kkklllllhhhh!’
But no imagined act, no desire, could provide the fulfillment
she sought. She sighed deeply, the emptiness of her masturbatory reverie
evident in the groan.
Nancy’s hand again raised the Champion’s expectations. As the
redhead’s fingers played over her enlarged organs, both on top of and beneath
the tight, glittering costume, Crimson Flare sought a final release from the
dream that had seized her.
‘NNnnn—ngguhh! NNnnn—ngguhh! NNnnn—ngguhh!’ With
each stroke, the perspiring Champion of Mitropoulos drove herself upward in a
spiral of bliss, only to be frustrated by a failure to reach fulfillment.
Nancy furthered this spiral by playing her lips across the face
of the avenger, kissing and licking her. Her expert tongue played across the
red lips of the heroine, sensing the cracked dryness arising from Crimson’s
rapture. Nancy drew the lips into her own mouth, nibbling them lightly, first
the lower lip, then the upper. She enjoyed torturing the heroine. It appeared
to Nancy that—whoever she was—she was relatively inexperienced sexually. This
allowed the redhead an opportunity to exploit the willingness of her victim to
surrender much for very little.
Nancy stood up. She watched Crimson Flare continue to gyrate on
the table in front of her. The
avenger’s body, though petite, was admirable, and its muscularity and
suppleness made it enticing as it writhed sensually up and down and in a
circular motion in front of her. The girl in denim took up a small, sharp knife
and placed her free hand over the crimson-and-gold sequins of the masked
avenger’s groin. Nancy leaned forward and whispered in the heroine’s ear,
trying to soothe her, to slow her motion and reduce her emotion. The redhead
gently patted her victim’s pubis, speaking soft, calming words. ‘Poor baby,’
she whispered, ‘so much desire, and no one to care for you.’ She guessed that
the heroine was unattached, probably because she was fearful of sharing her
secret with others. ‘Trust me, Darling, you can trust me.’ She kissed her
lightly on the temple.
As the heroine relaxed and her movement slowed, Nancy tenderly
pulled the uniform aside and reached the knife toward the shiny colourless
tights that were revealed. The sharp tip sliced neatly through the nylon
fibres, but Nancy’s expert technique spared what lay beneath. Once a small cut
had been made, the tall redhead put the knife aside and put her index finger
into the hole she had made.
The tearing of the nylon echoed in the small room. And the
intrusion of Nancy’s finger into the ready sex reawakened the recently quieted
sensuality tingling there. Her index finger moved down the entire length of her
quivering, sopping vagina and the moan that emerged as soon as those skilled
fingers pressed against the captive girl told Nancy that the heroine’s
repressed sexuality was coming to the surface.
‘Ooooohh, ggggo-oddd! OOOHH, GGOOODDD!
*****
Lynn set aside
all the notes she had taken on the police band events of the evening. When
Crimson Flare returned, she thought to herself, there would be a full record of
how much the heroine was needed—needed—by the Mitropoulos police. How
many people could say they were actually needed?
But she was
concerned about all of those calls. One after another, the police calls had
told the story: They were being overwhelmed by the rash of burglaries,
break-ins, holdups, and other crimes. One after another they had called for
reinforcements and pleaded with control to find Crimson Flare.
What if Ape—or
any other criminal—had heard those calls? He would know that Crimson Flare was
not in those areas of Mitropoulos under attack. And sometimes, knowing where
your enemy was not was a very important piece of information. She
decided that she must communicate these musings to Crimson Flare, to warn her
that Ape might be prepared for her investigation at his headquarters, because
of the calls that had come over the air.
How she wished
there were some way for the heroine to respond! But she and Karen had agreed
that anything beyond the simple receiver was either a distraction or too
cumbersome. And if the unit were left behind, the frequency might allow for
tracking Crimson Flare’s headquarters.
*****
Ape looked
attentively at the small earpiece that Hagood had placed before him on the
table. Faintly, he could hear a woman’s voice warning Crimson Flare of all of
the police calls that had been sent out for her. He smiled cruelly as he
recognised that the warning came too late.
‘What’s the
frequency?’ he asked the other man who was in the room. ‘Can we track that—’ he
waved his hand to indicate the voice now ending its message ‘—to its source?’
The young black
man wearing the leather jacket smiled as he nodded. ‘No trouble at all, Ape.’
Just then, the
archway leading to the living room was filled by two more former gang members,
wearing their different colours. The smaller one cleared his throat, and then
spoke softly to Ape. ‘Ape, Nancy would like you to give her—a hand.’ A smile
played around the corner of his mouth.
Ape looked up.
‘What else did she say?’
The young man
looked at his boss quizzically. Then a light of recognition spread across his
face. ‘She said, “She’s exactly what you like” and for you to bring the kit.’
Ape turned back
to his technician and said, ‘Find that voice.’ Then he left with room.
*****
Nancy’s middle
finger deftly moved in, out, and around the dark pink cleft that led to Crimson
Flare’s dripping interior. As she passed her finger over the revealed, swollen
lips, the heroine shook and moaned. She moved even more stimulation into the
action, flicking the exposed clit with her index finger, then pressed the clit
between her thumb and index finger. She listened to the increasing volume and
length of the moans that emerged from America’s Darling’s throat, as the
heroine lost control. The glittering form flopped weakly on the leather pads,
twisting and writhing as the rapture seized her.
‘America’s
Darling,’ Nancy whispered with a chuckle. ‘You’re nothing more than America’s
Slut.’
‘And when we get
her on tape—’ Nancy started at the sudden voice that came from behind her
‘—everyone will know it.’ Ape took a step and stood next to her, putting his
arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. He was carrying a small
metal box in his other hand.
*****
Perspiration
matted Crimson Flare’s hair to the sides of her head as well as to her black
mask. The sexual excitement she had maintained for what seemed to be an hour,
but was actually only about half that, was now intensified by the bright lights
that stood in the room. The three lights formed a triangle before the Champion,
so that no shadow obscured any part of her front. She was still tied in the
same position as she had been, but the pads she lay on had been angled so that
her full body was exposed to the cameras’ lenses. Three video cameras had been
set up, and their unblinking eyes gazed at the helpless young woman: one with a
close-up on her face (Ape wanted a ‘real good shot of her face when her mask
came off,’ he said); one on a tripod in front of her, fixed to give a shot of
the heroine from her head to about mid-thigh (Ape said this was the master shot
and would show every movement of her body during the sexual torture he
anticipated; Crimson Flare’s hips and thighs, Ape said, were what every guy
wanted to see: this would give a perfectly unobstructed and uninterrupted view
of their movements); and the third was below her, focused on her sexual areas,
now revealed by Ape’s tearing away of the crimson and gold costume.
Ape walked from
one camera to the next checking the focus and angle. In the first, he watched
as her masked face swung slowly from side to side, her tongue vainly trying to
moisten her dry cracked lips. Crimson Flare’s cheekbones crossed back and forth
through the little ‘focus circle’ in the center of the recording image and even
when she tossed her head she remained fully within the frame. Her eyes revealed
only a returning recognition of what was going on around her. Her cracking
voice whispered, ‘N-no-oo. Sto-opp.’
As Ape moved to
the second camera, he spoke to the powerless champion. ‘Not a chance, Crimson
Slut. After what you did to me tonight, you owe me big time. And I’m going to
make you pay. You’re going to pay and you’re going to pay off. This video will
probably be a huge best seller. How many guys do you think get their rocks off
on America’s Darling—’ when he spoke her name the contempt in his voice was
dripping— ‘just from pictures in the newspaper? Wait’ll they get a load of what
you can do when you’re really hot! I won’t be able to produce enough of them.’
Through the second camera, Ape watched her body move up and down, as she tried
to remember the fantasy prick that had thrilled her only a short while ago.
‘Yeah, you’re
going to be a star,’ Ape laughed.
Ape checked the
focus and angle of the third camera. The image was so sharp, he could even see
the glistening residue of her vaginal honey clinging to the hair that peered
out from beneath her costume. As he stood up, he removed the black leather belt
that supported the baton in its holster at her side. As he glanced at Crimson
Flare’s baton, he pulled it from the leather pocket and felt its lightness in
the palm of his hand. As he gripped it, he imagined to what uses this weapon
might be put.
*****
Lynn was
worried. If everything had gone well at the MacLeod-Slaughter mansion, Crimson
Flare’s night should already be over. She should be back by this time. But if the heroine had merely been delayed
by something minor, she didn’t want to hover like a nagging mother.
She turned to
her workstation and hacked her way into the police computer, something that
Stacy’s program made very easy. She typed in inquiries about the mansion,
whether anything had occurred there tonight, or whether there was any
significant activity in the neighbourhood. Everything came back negative: there
wasn’t even any indication that the mansion was currently occupied. No lights, no traffic, no evidence of anyone
there: suddenly the theme to Gilligan’s Island flashed through her mind.
(‘No lights, no phone, no motorcars/Not a single luxury. /Like Robinson
Crusoe/It’s as primitive as can be.’) But she knew it wasn’t funny.
She was
convinced something had happened to Crimson Flare. Something disastrous.
She left the
police computer and went onto CRIMENET, the criminal world’s internet. Again,
it was only thanks to Stacy’s program that she even had access to this engine.
It was one of the most closely protected systems in the world, even more
tightly guarded than the Pentagon and the CIA.
Lynn pursued the line of inquiry about Ape’s drug deal and discovered that the
destruction of the product was already posted. The criminal world was always
very much up-to-the-minute when it came to activities that might affect prices
or the status of criminals-on-the-make. Already, word had even got out that Ape
was looking for money to make up his losses. Unlike the real-world Internet,
CRIMENET’s information was rarely treated as obsolete.
So Crimson had
been successful! But where was she?
Lynn paused over
that question. She looked into reports on Ape Greystook’s drug deal. Was there
a description of what had happened? Where were the drugs? Why had the deal gone
bad?
When she found
the answers to these questions, fear for her friend swept over her anew. As she
connected to more and more links, pushing the story forward, she felt an
emptiness in the pit of her stomach. Crimson had been captured: that was in the
story. Ape intended to exact his price for her interference: that was between
the lines.
But how to help
her?
*****
Crimson Flare
fought through the heightened sensuality that she felt throughout her body. The
heroine shuddered as she tried to push away the imagined organ that had
spiraled her heavenward and had sapped her resistance. She sensed for her bound
wrists and recognised that they had been re-bound sometime during her ordeal,
that the ropes that took away her strength, were now wrapped around her wrists
at a point flat against her hands, within mere centimeters of where the claw
could be made effective. She felt her leg muscles quiver uncontrollably,
restrained by the ropes that secured her booted ankles to the posts at the base
of the slab on which she rested and by the loops that still circled her thighs
and waist, securing her to the padded table that was becoming so familiar. She
knew that, in this condition, she would have to focus her concentration on her
bound wrists. Once they were freed, her returning strength, as always, would
allow her to deal with her enemies. Desperately focusing her attention on
twisting her wrists and pulling her arms toward her, she felt the ropes, ever
so slowly, begin to creep past the upper edge of where the claw lay concealed.
But, in doing
so, she released her muscle contraction and control over her still sopping wet
sex, still alive and tingling, remembering the delicate and skilled touch of
the redhead who was only a few feet away, talking to Ape. The battling heroine
felt the residue of her juices drip down her exposed upper thighs until the
tattered edge of her shiny tights caught them a few inches below. The sensation
of the slowly rolling honey was immaculate, and she responded involuntarily.
‘Oooohhh, my
goo-od!’
It caught the
attention of her two opponents, who turned toward her simultaneously. While
Nancy smiled a small smile, Ape scowled. Why weren’t the video recorders
catching this moment, a moment that would be lost? And where was the guy with
the hand-held camera? Why wasn’t he set up?
The two figures,
dressed in their trademark blue denim with chain belts, approached the writhing
figure slowly. Ape was still carrying the metal box that he had had when he
arrived. He set it on a table out of camera range, on which was already located
a few loose items: spare light bulbs, electrical connectors, wires of various
lengths, and so on. He opened the box
noisily, attracting the attention of the bound heroine, whose eyes drifted
toward the section of the room where he stood. She could see the contents of
the box when he flipped the top up, and he said to her, ‘It’s showtime, folks!’
Inside, Crimson
Flare saw the paraphernalia of sexual torture. Although the box was
surprisingly small, like a Tardis, it seemed larger inside. The dildos and
vibrators were of many colours, most of them appealing. But there were many
other items that were of uncertain use, but clearly they were probes, pointed
and rounded, clamps, screw-type and alligator, and gags and restraints.
Although the
heroine was still distracted by the turmoil she felt raging inside her, she had
the presence of mind to focus her attention on the matter of escape. Using the
pretext of the sensuality that was still obviously present from her earlier
torment, she shifted her full body weight from the supports, so that she was
suspended by her bound wrists. The action pulled the ropes still closer to the
goal of the claw’s edge. The action also gained Ape’s attention, as her body
twisted sinuously. He walked, a little too quickly for Nancy’s taste, over to
the Champion and placed his hands on the sides of her chest. He moved them
slowly up and down her sides, feeling the mixture of sensations: the coolness
of the spandex, covered by the glittering sequins, which stirred at the
slightest touch, all of which lay over the warm body of Crimson Flare. Slowly,
eventually, Ape moved his large paws to her small breasts.
When the cool
smoothness of the spandex pressed down on her sensitive nipples and the
perfectly round mounds, Crimson felt a renewal of the feelings she had earlier
experienced. Still bound, still powerless, made the plaything of an enemy, the
fantasy gripped her fully for a second time. In her mind, she knew she had to
cut at her rope bonds, but the reverie gripped her so strongly that all she
wanted to do was to find that feeling again, the feeling between her legs, that
ran deep into her, the tendrils that looped her breasts, and the images that
crashed into her unconscious, that unrolled on her mind like on a movie screen.
She felt the tip of the claw seize on the rope binding her wrist, but right now
she didn’t care. In fact, she desired the bondage. Only the bondage gave her
the sense of helplessness that was so necessary.
When Ape’s hands
mashed down on her breasts, she cried out in exquisite pain. Her mind told her
that he didn’t know how to elicit the most in sexual response from a woman, but
her conscious mind wasn’t in control now. All she wanted was the powerlessness,
the costume, and the mistreatment at his hands. When one of his hands moved
from her breast to her exposed pussy, and his middle finger plunged deep inside
her, she lost all control.
‘AAAaaaahhhh-HHHHAAAAGGGHHHH!
DEE-AAARR GOO-OOOD!’
She came again.
When Ape brought
his meaty hand in a wide arc to slap her face, she barely noticed. It was
simply one more part of the fantasy world she was living in. Pain and pleasure
were so mixed that one could not be separated from the other. She was a
defeated superheroine, trapped and powerless.
Ape was enraged
that he had lost another shot of Crimson Flare cumming. The value of his video
was decreasing each time this superslut vented her honeypot. He would have to
put off shooting the video until he could have more control over her. He
needed to control her; he wanted to set up her sexual response, and film
the result. It would be humiliating for the heroine, fulfilling (and
profitable) for him, and a great jack-off for anyone watching.
*****
Lynn drove
through the wet streets toward downtown Mitropoulos. What she was going to do
when she reached the MacLeod-Slaughter mansion, she wasn’t sure. But Crimson
Flare was in danger, she was sure of it. In the short time they had known one
another, that they had been working together, Lynn had realised that Crimson
Flare was more than merely a friend. Lynn hadn’t been this close to anyone
since she had had a ‘best friend’ when she was a pre-teen, and all of their
secrets had been shared during sleepovers. Even her first boyfriend, to whom
she had confided everything, was never so trusted.
And now, Lynn
was risking her life for her friend.
When she turned
onto the Hutson River Parkway, heading for the riverside home, the blue van was
almost the only vehicle on the road. As she got to the Theodore Franklin
Parkway exit, leading to the row of late-19th-century estates that
lined the river along the north end of Mitropoulos, she slowed the van as she
realised that she didn’t know what she would do once she reached the house.
The mansion was
only a mile or so from the exit. She exited onto Pellatonik Road and pulled off
the road just beyond the intersection. She concentrated on her breathing,
trying to bring herself under control, to push back the panic that she felt
rising. After a few moments, she took stock of her surroundings. It was a major
intersection on the Parkway, but it was surprisingly ill lit. There was a
billboard across the road where she could leave the van, facing the exit if it
was necessary for her the make a quick getaway. She made a U-turn and pulled
behind the advertisement. Before stepping out of the van she looked through the
glove compartment for any kind of a weapon. Buried under her registration, a
badly-folded map, and couple of parking tickets was a small knife. It looked
like her brother’s old Boy Scout knife. It was probably worse than nothing, she
thought. A weapon as poor as this might give her false courage, or its mere
presence could get her killed. But you never know….
*****
Crimson Flare
stumbled from the room, her hands tied behind her back. Ape had placed a black
leather collar around her neck and he half-led, half-dragged the heroine from
the TV room toward the staircase that led downstairs. The Champion Of
Mitropoulos couldn’t keep up with the pace the angry criminal set. She
staggered after him, striking her left shoulder against the deteriorating
brocade on the walls. Soon her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. As she
did so, Ape halted mid-stride.
As he turned to
look back on her, the criminal leader tugged at her leash. ‘Come on, you
super-cunt,’ he growled. He walked back and watched the masked figure
desperately trying to fill her lungs with sustaining breaths.
She was
breathing deeply through her mouth, saliva drooling down her face and spindling
toward the floor. The glorious green eyes were open and the desperation the
heroine felt was visible behind the black vinyl mask. The glittering costume
shone brightly in the lights overhanging the foyer. As she breathed deeply, the
familiar crimson-and-gold attire clung tightly to her, showing off every facet
of her body. Crimson Flare fell back on her haunches, and he could see, between
her legs, the torn away section of costume, revealing her wet sex, honey still
clinging to the dark brown hair that was there exposed.
An evil smile
came across Ape’s face as he looked down on the small figure. ‘Oh, you poor
thing,’ he said acidly. ‘What kind of superheroine do we have here? America’s
Virginal Darling, my ass. If I could have got that footage of you jacking
yourself off, everybody would know what kind of slut you are. And you sure
ain’t no virgin no more. Not from what I heard about what happened in that
subway station.’
He leaned down
and grabbed her costume, bunching it in his fist. ‘Who the hell do you think
you are? Lording it over everybody else, like you’re so perfect,’ he said
quietly, but with clear menace. ‘You act like every bitch with a racket I’ve
ever run into. You put out the picture that you’re everything perfect, when
really all you want is to fuck the nearest guy with a big dick. I watched you,
you slut. I watched you. You were dreaming of being fucked. You want
to be fucked! Well, get ready, babe. ’Cause you’re gonna get your wish!’
He pulled her to
her feet with ease, and stood the masked heroine against the wall. ‘Come along
with me, sweetheart. Let’s see just how much you can do.’ Still holding the
leash, Ape now pushed Crimson Flare from behind. He watched as her tight,
muscular body faltered as she moved clumsily toward the stairway. Each stride
was silent, muffled by the plush carpeting that ran the full length of the
hall. The soundlessness of her movement added another otherworldly touch to the
vision before him, a vision he had dreamt of making his own. He felt his member
rise as he gazed at her ass, lovingly gripped by the spandex, stretched tight
to form a curved plane as it faced him, but the cleft between her round,
muscular cheeks was all too evident as the glittering costume dove between her
legs, revealing the fissures and lines of her all-too-potent femininity. That
perfectly sculpted ass, those wonderful thighs, round and firm: Ape stared at
them, coveting them. It wouldn’t be long.
Crimson Flare
stood at the top of the curved staircase, looking down to the main entrance
hall below. Vaguely, she could see several of Ape’s gang milling through the
area. They stopped moving when they saw the heroine in her gleaming uniform
leaning against the wall.
‘Who wants to
fuck America’s Darling?’ Ape’s booming voice came from behind her. Crimson
Flare struggled weakly against her freshly-bound wrists. When she had been
unceremoniously dragged from the slab in the TV room, her wrists had been
briefly freed. But Ape and Nancy hadn’t given the dazed, spent superheroine
more than a moment of freedom before they were rebinding her wrists, even more
tightly, this time behind her back. Once again, she made a desperate effort to
position the claw that would allow her to fight back. In her dazed, weakened
condition, it was slow going.
‘Five hundred
bucks!’ Ape released his hold on the leash and pushed his captive, hard.
In the bright
light of the staircase and hall, Crimson Flare shimmered brilliantly as her
petite body tumbled down the stairs. The high polish of her black leather
boots, the radiance of the crimson-and-gold sequins on her costume, even the
black vinyl of her mask: all caught the light which filled the entry and
reflected it at all of the observers. The remains of the thick carpeting that
had once covered the steps reduced her plummet to a few whispered thumps, which
accompanied an occasional pained grunt.
When her body
came to rest a few feet beyond the bottom step, on the hardwood floor beyond
the edge of the faded green carpeting, she was laying on her stomach. She was
too beaten to move. Ape walked down the stairs, smiling, playing with the
heroine’s belt and her baton, passing the black leather belt and holster back
and forth, one hand to the other. He restated his offer. ‘You can do it right
here. There’s a table over there—’ he pointed, ‘—or, for those who prefer more
comfort, use the sofa.’ He pointed again. The men in the foyer pressed toward
him.
Four men in
varicoloured leather jackets, symbolic of the gangs they had belonged to until
recruited by Ape, fairly leapt forward. A half dozen others no less
enthusiastic but more conspiratorial followed. These latter whispered among
themselves as if planning a group endeavor in handling their opportunity with
the heroine. ‘Have your money ready,’ Ape told them. ‘But I get her first. There!’
He pointed to the former library, the only room on the first floor of the
mansion that had doors to close it off from the rest of the floor. It had been
Ape’s quarters since he had moved in.
‘Do I get to
play with her, too?’ Nancy asked, as she walked down the staircase.
Ape smiled. A
grunt was all that emerged from his throat.
Nancy stood over
the fallen heroine. She could hear Crimson Flare moaning softly. The redhead
reached down and grabbed the leash attached to the collar and roughly pulled
the Champion upward.
‘Gggllllhh—hhuuugghhhkk!’
‘Ohhh, poor
baby,’ Nancy said soothingly. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let you die. We’re not
through with you.’ She smiled across at Ape, and then added, ‘Yet.’ With that
she threw the leash back to the floor and let poor Crimson drop to its
unyielding surface again.
‘Get up, you
slut.’
The glimmering
form of the heroine slowly rolled to her side. Her bound hands limited her
ability to move as well as her ability to call upon her strength. Painfully,
over long minutes, she brought herself to a position where she was almost
sitting. She rested on her hip, with her legs drawn up toward her. Her petite
torso sat upright, but her head hung down on her chest.
‘Look at her,
boys,’ Nancy said. ‘This is the woman every criminal in town has wanted to fuck
for over a year. The Great Crimson Flare. Victor over the Normans and
the Savoyards. Saviour of Mitropoulos. The once-mighty Champion of Right and
Justice.’ She pushed the swaying heroine lightly, dropping her to the floor
again, exhausted. ‘Look at her. America’s Darling. Sprawled like a clumsy rag
doll. Champion of Women. Beaten to a pulp.’
As Nancy’s
denunciation ran on, the sound of mocking laughter emerged from the throats of
the men gathered in the entry hall. Crimson Flare heard the contempt and tried
to bury her face in the floor under her. Nancy was right, she thought. Who did
she think she was? How could she imagine that she could correct the world? All
she had done was to put herself in danger, probably get herself killed;
probably got Stacy killed. And for what? A few lines in a newspaper. A footnote
in some future book about Mitropoulos. She was nothing.
‘Pl-please.
Ssstopp,’ the beaten heroine whimpered.
It was Ape who
answered her, pulling her to her feet with his accustomed ease. ‘Stop? Baby, we
have just started.’ He fairly dragged the shattered Champion across the hallway
to the library, pulling her into the dim room. Nancy was close behind. She
closed the door behind her.
*****
Lynn was
surprised to find no one near the gates to the mansion’s entrance. The gates,
she saw, were new, and, unfortunately, locked. They didn’t even rock when she
pushed on them. The far side of the driveway was bathed in bright lights, so
climbing the gates would avail her little if her goal was to sneak on to the
property. Looking around, she saw a wooded hill less than a quarter of a mile
to her right. It might just give her the opportunity to clear the decrepit wall
that moved off in both directions from the formidable new entrance.
*****
Crimson Flare
knew she had to escape. Whether she continued as a heroine was unlikely,
especially in light of what was happening, but she had to get away. She had to
save her life. It’s just that she was so weak, so dazed that she
couldn’t think clearly enough to formulate a plan or even to make a concerted
effort.
As she staggered
into Ape’s room, she pulled desperately on her bonds. There wasn’t a centimeter
of give in those ropes! And because she had been rebound, she again (what was
this?—the fifth time she had tried to use it?) had to bring the edge of the
claw into play. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, then slid around so
that her back rested against the empty bookshelves. The desperate heroine used
her body to hide her effort, but because she was working behind her back, she
couldn’t tell how well she was succeeding.
Ape cleared the
detritus of yesterday’s activities from the bed linen. Nancy walked to the
little breakfast table that had been placed near the window and opened the
familiar kit that was waiting when the trio entered the chamber. She pulled out
a shiny black vibrator, handling it like an artist maneuvers a tool of his
trade. ‘This is my favourite,’ she smirked at the slumping Champion of
Mitropoulos. ‘I hope it will be yours, too.’
Ape turned. ‘Not
yet,’ he said. ‘I get her first. You’re going to keep her mouth occupied. And
you’ll entertain me.’
‘Jesus, Ape,
can’t you be original in any way? Every guy wants to watch two
women go at it. Why not be a little daring?’
‘I’m… daring…
enough in what I do during the day. When I fuck, I know what works. Besides,
when I’m finished…’
‘Yeah, that’ll
be about five minutes,’ Nancy thought aloud.
‘…you can have her for as long as you want.
That’s the kind action I could use to get up for seconds.’
Crimson Flare
had been frightened by the unmanageable sexual response that had seized her
earlier. She was not used to giving in to that kind of physical stimulation.
She had lost focus, she had failed to continue her escape effort with the claw
while under assault, and she had allowed her physical response to overwhelm her
mentally. Hearing the tête-à-tête between the two vicious criminals, she
was now frightened by what might happen when Ape and Nancy began to work her
over in a concerted way. Now, while she was aware of what she was doing; now,
when she could think clearly and plan an escape; now had to be the
moment of escape.
But Crimson
wasn’t allowed even the moment she thought she had. Ape and Nancy grabbed her
roughly and pulled her toward the large bed that took up almost one entire wall
of the large room. She no longer stumbled, but her movement revealed that the
avenger was still weak. She pressed her glove-covered hands and forearms hard
against her muscular ass, hoping for the welcome sensation of the claw taking a
grip on the rope that had taken away her strength. The heroine pulled her arms
outward from her bound wrists, trying to push the highest coil over the claw,
but this was blocked in the middle of her effort as she was casually tossed
onto the outsized bed. As she sank into its embrace, she felt the claw seize.
The angel of Mitropoulos heaved a sigh of relief as she began to saw through
the thick rope. She knew it would take time, and she knew that the sexual
assault she would undergo would try to pull her focus from this desperate
effort. She closed her eyes for a moment and centered herself. She needed to
find a calmness within her to draw upon to face this ordeal.
But even this
was denied the captive Champion. Ape’s huge hand smashed against the side of
her face, twisting her neck painfully and driving her head into the mattress.
She opened her green eyes in time to see the hand returning as he backhanded
her agonizingly in the other direction.
‘You’re going to
service me and my lady, bitch. You’re going to do what you’re told or you’re
going to be in major pain. Now, come here!’ Ape pulled the petite form of the
heroine upright, once again bunching the sequined costume in his ham fist.
‘Open it,’ he
told Nancy, who reached behind Crimson Flare, searching for the zipper that was
buried beneath the sparkling uniform. Finding it, she unhooked the metal catch
at the back of the heroine’s neck, and then pulled the zipper its full length
to the small of her back, just above her rounded buttocks. As she spread the
glittering crimson halves, she smiled. ‘Crimson Flare doesn’t wear any
underwear.’
‘Ape responded,
‘Soon everyone will know. Now pull it down. Show me her titties.’
Nancy did as she
was told. Crimson Flare reddened beneath her mask, humiliated by the exposure.
Nancy leaned in toward her. ‘OOohh, poor baby,’ she whispered. ‘Not very big,
are you? But then, that’s not what you’re sellin’, is it? It’s those legs you
want them to notice.’ The girl in blue reached down and slowly rubbed her hand
along the heroine’s thigh. She did so with almost no pressure against the leg,
and Crimson felt a shiver run up and down her spine. It was the single most
sexually thrilling contact she had ever felt.
Nancy noticed
the heroine’s response. ‘You like that, do you? Well, wait, baby, and you’ll
get a lot more where that came from.’
She leaned over
and whispered into the uncovered ear of Mitropoulos’ Champion, ‘Wait until the
ape gets his rocks off.’
*****
Lynn moved
quickly from tree to bush, keeping out of sight as she approached the big
house. She saw the patio a mere twenty yards in front of her. Alone behind all
the windows on this side of the house, the room off the French doors was dark.
As she made the final rush to the safety of the alcove surrounding the terrace,
she saw a thin, faint sliver of light lying across the flagstones. As she
peered inside, she saw that the doors were held closed by a section of drapery cord.
The thin wedge of illumination from inside the house was visible only because
the patio was completely cut off from the exterior house lights. The light
itself was so faint that only someone actually on the deck would be able to see
it.
She reached her
hand through the narrow opening and began to undo the knot.
Suddenly she
heard a loud shout from inside the house, a group of men laughing, boasting. It
seemed to be coming from the lobby on the main floor.
This is not the
time to be snooping around in there, Lynn thought. She moved from the patio
and, keeping close to the shadows near to the mansion, she began circling
toward the rear of the building. Perhaps there would be another way to aid
Crimson Flare.
*****
The two
criminals fairly covered the body of the heroine entirely. Only her tights,
reflecting the light from the several desk lamps scattered around the room, and
the black, polished boots were visible as she lay on the bed. The entrancing
body of the heroine squirmed ineffectively as the two assailants attacked her.
Nancy had her lips firmly planted over the mouth of Mitropoulos’ sweetheart,
with her tongue exploring the full geography of that orifice. Her hands were at
the side of Crimson’s head, turning and twisting, seeking advantage in her
pursuit of oral gratification. Crimson Flare could be heard, muffled,
complaining.
Her sequined
costume had been pulled down to her waist. The narrow shoulder straps were down
around her forearms, themselves still secured behind her back. Ape Greystook
was caressing the smooth flawless skin of the beauty, after his fashion.
Roughly, he rubbed her shoulders, her chest, her breasts, seeking to stimulate
himself as he pressed forward, preparing to penetrate the exposed sex of the
Champion of Mitropoulos. This was the way he had dreamed it. With Nancy working
wonders with her mouth, and Crimson Flare lying before him, helpless, he sought
all of the inspiration that her body would provide. His hands pressed against
her flesh, sometimes forcing the heroine’s complaining moans to increase in
volume; he placed first one nipple, then the other, between thumb and
forefinger and squeezed, giving rise to a pained protest from beneath Nancy’s
educated lips. Yes, this was almost exactly as he had imagined it would be.
Soon he would press him organ home and into the symbol of virtuous womanhood.
Ape had been
given his name because of his similarity to the prowess and physique of that
creature. He was tall, with a massive, muscled chest; his long arms were well
developed and in fact were permanently partially bent at the elbow; likewise
his legs were bowed and equally well developed (though, truth be told, they
were long, like his arms and unlike the appendages of his namesake). Unfortunately, he also bore a distinct resemblance
to the jungle beast in his equipment, which was, to put it delicately, stunted.
(Nancy believed that this was evidence of earlier steroid use: Ape denied he
had ever used steroids.)
Crimson Flare
was in agony. Ape’s roughhousing of her arms and chest was like being molested
by a car wash; and, at the same time, Nancy’s delicate and perverse tonguing
was threatening to seek out new worlds of experience. Her hands and wrists were
deeply buried in the soft billows of the mattress and bedspread. She could
barely move those extremities, and she had no way of knowing what progress, if
any, she was making on freeing herself and unleashing her strength. The masked
heroine had felt the blade of the claw catch on the top loop of rope around her
wrists; she moved her hands in the familiar way, the means by which she had
freed herself on numerous occasions previously; but she could not feel the
usual loosening of the rope as the claw made headway.
As Crimson Flare
continued to doggedly saw away, she felt Ape’s big hand on top of her
sequin-covered mound. She felt him press his immense body between her thighs
(and she felt her legs begin to kick, only to be pressed to the coverlet). Finally, she felt his prick, hard and round,
at her entrance, beyond the torn costume and tights. When he pushed himself
into her, she responded with a snarl, a snarl muffled by Nancy’s adventurous
mouth, and a groan, a groan cut off in mid-breath.
As Ape pressed
himself into the Champion of Women, she wanted to scream, but Nancy’s
ever-stimulating mouth muted her complaint. But when she realised that he was
completely into her, and what Ape was, she found herself stifling a laugh. And
then she felt Nancy’s mouth over hers, likewise smirking and whispering a ‘SShhh!
Shuush!!’ The heroine only needed that moment to take in a salient fact
about Ape Greystook: Angry, he had less than four inches.
Ape slid easily
into the heroine. He looked down on her body, a body that had fascinated him
for months. He looked at the tight-fitting costume, glittering in the lights
scattered around the room. He enjoyed
the feeling as his hand played over the sequins, sensing the coolness of the
spandex beneath and the warm silken flesh beyond that. He held her by the hips,
so that he could continue to relish the sensuality of the uniform. He felt the
hard muscle give under his hands as he pressed himself fully into her. He moved
his hips and she followed obediently.
It was always
this way. Every woman he had ever been with would admit that his entry was
never harsh or painful. He allowed his hands to roam over her hips, her thighs,
her calves to her leather boots. He lifted the boots so that they lay against
the sides of his face. She lay on her back with her legs reaching upward, the
black leather resting against his immense shoulders. Ape allowed the full
experience to wash over him, from his fingers, which still held the soft shiny
leather, to the tip of his prick.
He looked down
at her, loving the sense that the powerful, the virtuous, the virginal Crimson
Flare was his for the plucking. He looked towards her face, watching her closed
eyes behind that vinyl mask, partially hidden by Nancy’s mass of red hair. With
his left hand, he reached out and pushed the clump of curls aside. He looked at
the flawless complexion, the smooth skin, round over her muscles in her arms,
silky across her shoulders and breasts. He knew that he would never again have
a woman like this one!
He pressed
further into her, paining himself in the process, though his victim seemed to
suffer little from the pressure. He felt himself on the verge of cumming;
wishing to delay the inevitable, he withdrew and breathlessly ordered Nancy,
‘Get out of my way!’
‘What--?’
‘I want her to
give me a blow job.’
‘But, Ape, I’m
the only—’
‘Get out of
the way!’ Ape was struggling to hold his wad, and the effort sounded in his
voice. He pulled violently at Nancy to get at the masked crusader.
Nancy landed on
the floor beside the bed. Ape pulled himself from the sequined heroine, and let her legs return to the soft
bedspread. Then he straddled her waist and hips. With his huge right hand, he
grabbed her uncovered hair and pulled her painfully up from the bed. ‘You do
what you’re supposed to do, you don’t get hurt. You understand?’ There
was an unmistakable threat in Ape’s voice.
With the help of
Ape’s powerful arm holding onto her dark brown hair, Crimson Flare nodded
assent.
‘All right. On
your knees, you bitch.’ He climbed off her and stood next to the bed.
As the petite
heroine slid to the floor, she noticed how the huge gang lord towered over her.
She knew that, until she could free her hands, he could easily kill her.
She stood for
only a moment. She noticed that, for the first time, she was steady on her feet
and didn’t sway. She didn’t know whether the claw was having any effect on the
ropes that removed her strength, but she was regaining her composure and her
confidence.
‘I said, ON
YOUR KNEES!’
Slowly,
reluctantly, wanting to test her new sense of security but knowing it was too
soon, the Champion of Mitropoulos dropped to her knees before the towering
criminal.
‘Take it! Suck
it!! Goddamn you, you bitch!!’
Crimson Flare
leaned forward, like she was bobbing for an apple, and plopped the engorged
organ in her mouth. If rape was about control, and threatening violence to
maintain that control, then this was the ultimate in Ape’s control over the
heroine. Powerless, her costume stripped to her waist, her hands tied behind
her back, on her knees in the attitude of a slave: All of this placed the
Champion at a humiliating level beneath her conqueror.
‘Suck it!’
Ape was in
heaven. He had known that some day—some day—he was going to bring that
high and mighty superbitch down. And now he was doing it. Every other gangland
figure in town who had taken her on was dead, in prison, or just disappeared.
But he had her on her knees—on her knees!—and sucking his cock.
He wanted to watch her, to see the fulfillment of his triumph over her. But the
thrill that filled first his hips, then raced up his back and down his thighs,
and finally touched his whole body made it nothing more than a glance. The
feeling racing through him, starting at his groin, which was at this moment the
elevated centre of his existence—her mouth circling him felt so soft and
the edges of her teeth playing along the top and underside of his prick, just
enough to increase the stimulation but not enough to offer any pain or even
threat, her tongue lapping, washing against his tip—the feeling that swelled
the scale of his victory over this, this mere woman, had him seeking a
higher exaltation, his eyes roamed dreamily upward. Unconsciously he raised up
on his toes, lifting his body just as his soul was lifted as high as it could
go. His grip found her hair, and as he seized the silken tresses, a new
sensation seized him. He felt the softness of this woman: her hair, even matted
with sweat, was still like so many layers of silk; her skin, as he brushed his
knuckles against the side of face, gave easily to the pressure. This new
sensation drew down, down toward her. He bent at the waist and, at the same
time, bent his knees, seeking to bury his face in that breathtaking hair. As he
did so, the thrill in his groin reached a peak, his whole body quaking. He
stood erect to bring the shudder under control and the process began again; up
on his toes and down, bending; like he was riding the heroine, fucking her, but
this was so much better. Her lips sent shivers through his entire body. If this
was how she performed, he might keep her.
Crimson Flare
felt the degradation throughout her being. She raised and lowed herself, leaned
forward and was bent back; all to follow his meandering hips and cock. The
Champion was completely dependent on the large criminal she was servicing. In
her humiliation, she became concerned about the repercussions of failure; she
ceased to be Mitropoulos’ saviour, and she became Ape’s whore. The undersized
cock threatened to slip from inside of her mouth, so she used tongue and teeth
to hold it in place; there was no telling what Ape would do to her if she
failed to hold onto that petite organ. If only she knew how effective the claw…
Suddenly the
heroine felt the bonds holding her loosen, and there was a renewal of her
strength. The claw had cut through the rope.
End of Chapter
Three
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome::
contact the author at marat1793@comcast.net