The L-Girl Manifesto
Chapter Three: Ivan The Destroyer
by: L-GirlWriter

There were some complications that night. I had intended to go back and get my purse and dress after I had blown up the drugs, but that never happened. There wasn't anything in my purse that could identify me- I didn't carry an ID. I didn't have a cell phone. I had a tampon, an address book, which would have been very valuable had a SPEW agent found it, a bottle of tanning oil, and fifteen hundred dollars in cash. Luckily, I had stashed some of the cash in my lair, but not too much. I was afraid someone was going to come in with a bolt cutter one of these days and clean my lair out. Whether SPEW intended to pay me or not, they never did. My courtesan days were over. I was a superheroine now, not a high-class prostitute. I should act like one. With great power comes great...whatever. But how does a superheroine make money? Even Wonder Woman had to eat.
    That was when I met Tyler Preston. I was lying on the beach tanning, since it was free, and there was a handsome man blocking my sun and staring my body. I was about to get an attitude, when he told me that he worked for a modeling agency, and he was looking to get some girls together to do a photo shoot. He told me to walk down the beach with him. I was wondering if he was another operative trying to mess with my head, but I walked with him and he took me to a private beach where there were was camera equipment set up and a few other hot-looking girls like me in their bikinis. I got nervous because they were all much taller than me. My stature is not very superheroinesque.
    "Who is that brunette?" I overheard the photographer saying to Tyler. They were standing on the beach just a few feet away from us. The photographer had to be referring to me. All the other girls were blondes.
    "I just found her lying on the beach," Tyler said. "She's pretty, isn't she?"
    "She's perfect. Get rid of the others. I just want to shoot her." I heard gasps from the other girls. 
    "You can't get rid of them, Claude. They're on contract."
    "That's your department, Preston. Tell them to go home."
    "Artists." Preston shook his head. He approached us, taking off his sunglasses. "This is going to be a one person shoot, guys. You can all go home. Kimmie, you stay. He likes you." Kimmie Dalton was my real name. After becoming L-Girl, I had almost forgotten it.
    After much complaining and heated talk about contracts, the other models strutted out, and the photographer started taking pictures of my hard, tanned body in my silver, string bikini. "Beautiful, you're perfect," he kept telling me. "Arch your back a little more." When he was done, Tyler gave me five hundred dollars, cash, and perhaps even more valuable than that, his business card.
    "We're always looking for new talent," he said.
    "I don't really have modeling training," I said, trying to be modest.
    "Do you like looking hot and making cash?"
    "Well, duh."
    "Then come to our office. It's in South Side. You'll come tomorrow, if you're serious."
    I walked down the beach, the bills rolled in my hand, with the intention of going into one of the surf shops and buying a new purse, when I heard that awful word being uttered in my ear. It's funny, I remember eating jicama root once; I almost gagged on it.
    Dick, as I call him, was wearing a bathing suit and t-shirt, and holding a bottle of beer. He really knew how to blend in.
    "So, you're starting a new career?" he said scornfully. "Do think it's wise to be showing your face all over the city when you're a secret operative?"
    "I wear a mask, you know."
    "And Clark Kent wore glasses. How long do you think it will be before someone figures out your identity?"
    "Hey, if I can be paid for striking a pose in a bikini, then I'm going to do it. Girl's gotta eat, you know."
    "It's your life you stupid girl.” Even behind his sunglasses, I could feel him glaring at me. “Anyway, you have a new mission. Don't blow it this time."
    "Can I ask you something?"
    "That doesn't obligate me to answer."
    "Who's Agent X?" Dick stopped walking.
    "You ran into Agent X, did you?"
    "Yeah, who is she?"
    "She? Hmm. Interesting."
    "Well?"
    "I told you there were four men under my command. However, there are other agents that we sometimes associate with."
    "Does she work for SPEW?"
    "Agent X doesn't work for anyone. I would stay away from him, I mean, her, if you had any regard for your life whatsoever."
    "Thanks for the warning." Asshole.

If the last mission sounded insane, than this one was just plain suicidal. They wanted me to infiltrate the private home of one of Stonkovich's dealers, and kill him. And I had to do it that night. This dealer, whose name was Orlov, was about to make a huge deal with a West Coast crime syndicate, and he had to be dead before he could make that deal. Dick gave me the address to a South Side manor where Orlov stayed when he was on the island. I think that Dick considered me an expendable asset. Or he was just really amazed by my superheroine abilities.
    South Side was where all the wealthy denizens of Satin City resided. Since you could only make wealth on Satin City by selling drugs, that was consequently where all the drug lords lived. It also happened to be where the modeling agency was. I knew that whatever happened that night, I would be at that agency the next day. I needed something to hope for.
    I took a bus to South Side at night and cased the manor. To begin with, it was in a gated community, so I had to sneak in past the gate as a car drove by. I felt like anyone could have spotted me walking down the sinuous street in my little silver minidress. I hoped this time I wouldn't lose that dress. I didn't want to have to buy one every time I went on a mission.
    The sprawling home receded behind a long, winding driveway, but as far as I could tell, there weren't any guards. There had to be cameras though. Drug dealers were fairly paranoid. I wondered how I would go about breaking in to the place. I don't know if Dick realized that I couldn't fly or walk through walls. But there was one special power I did have. I hiked up my minidress just a little bit, so that a tiny triangle of the silver lycra was showing underneath it, and I walked right up to the front door. If you were a man, you would have let me in.
    The man who opened the door was a giant, literally. He was so tall that I felt like a midget, with his rippling muscles bulging under his tank top. He looked down at me as if he had no interest in me at all.
    "Excuse me ma'm, you're at the wrong house," he said. I tried hold myself together. His size was so intimidating.
    "My husband's being a real jerk,” began my ploy. “I need someone to rough him up a little bit. To show him what a real man is like. I heard that some tough guys lived here. You're a tough guy, aren't you?"
    "Lady, that's between you and your husband. Now please, have a good night." He started to close the door. I grasped the edge of it.
    "There might be some reward involved," I said. "If you know what I mean." I gave him a coy look. There was a sparkle of light in the giant's eyes as he glanced down at the little bit of indecency poking out between my trim, tanned thighs. That little sparkle was the only thing that betrayed his emotions. Otherwise, he had a mean poker face.
    "How about a little taste?" he said.
    "How about after you teach my husband a lesson, you can teach me a lesson." I said. “Go ahead, spank me. I’ve been naughty.” I turned around and bent over. I felt his big hands squeezing my juicy ass. He let me in.
    I told him I had to use the bathroom. Girls always have to use the bathroom.
    "I'll show you where-"
    "Don't worry, I'll find it. My house is just like this one." And I was gone before he could say anything else. I noticed the enormous bulge under his jeans. I was glad I wouldn’t have to be subjected to that. I did in fact find a bathroom so I could change into my costume and practice my tantric meditation. I realized that I would never see that dress again. I had to work out a better system for that next time. I came out of the bathroom in my tight, sexy, lycra outfit, and my body was hot and juiced and ready for action. Now, to find Orlov, quietly dispatch him, and get the hell out of there. I didn't want to have to face that giant, even with my powers.
   I was still on the main floor. I needed to explore some of the upper floors, where I might catch Orlov in his study. I walked back down a hallway, into a common area, and almost bumped right into the giant. He had been waiting there the whole time for me to come out of the bathroom. Now, there was a big, white, "L" printed on my chest.
    "What the fuck!" he shouted. I darted around him, but he was quicker than I would have anticipated for a hulk of his size, and his big arm caught me by my side. He crossed his arms around my waist, and lifting me in the air, crushed my body against his, in a devastating bear hug, forcing all the air out of my lungs. My legs kicked uselessly, and my fists pummeled pathetically against his chest. I was too weak to have any effect on him. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even scream. I started to feel dizzy. If I blacked out, that was it. No more L-Girl. No more Kimmie Dalton. No more anything.
    "Stop, Ivan," I heard a voice say, in my daze. "I want to keep her alive." Ivan's big arms released me and I fell to a heap on the floor, gasping for air.
    "That bitch deserves to die," the giant, who was called Ivan, said.
    "I just thought we'd have some fun with her, first." The blackest dread filled my body. I thought about that night with Agent X. This couldn't be happening again. I would rather that Ivan had just killed me, and spared me the shame and humiliation. The brute landed a blow on my head, and I was out.
    I woke up with a bucket of frigid water splashing in my face. I was chained to a wall, manacles cuffing my wrists above my head. I was in some sort of dungeon. There was a rack on the wall holding various implements, like whips, maces, and rods; a medieval torture rack was propped against the wall on the other end of the room, and there were other various contraptions. In front of me stood Ivan, and a smaller man, who must have been Orlov.
    "Ah, she's awake," Orlov said. "Make her comfortable, Ivan." With his brutal fist, Ivan slammed me in the gut. I buckled from the pain, but with my wrists in chains, there was nothing I could do to protect myself. He pummeled me again, with the strength of ten men. I screamed in pain, and then he hit me again, and again, in the same spot.
    "You wouldn't want to mess up her pretty little mouth, would you?" Orlov instructed. Ivan cut me with his hard knuckles across my face. My lip burst with blood.
    "Alright, that's enough," Orlov said. "I still want her to be pretty." Without warning, the giant hit me in my stomach again. I grimaced. The pain was horrible.
    "You are a SPEW operative, sent here to kill me. Is that correct?"
    "Fuck you!" I managed to spit out.
    "Ivan, teach her some manners." He jabbed me in the ribs, hard. I felt a sharp pain. The crack was audible. "Oops. Think I broke this one," Ivan chuckled.
    "What do you want?" I said, my chest heaving.
    "What do I want? Good question." Orlov said. "Your mask. Is that important?" He stripped off the mask, and took a step back and looked at me. "Wait, I know you. You're that courtesan slut. She's a slut, Ivan. How about that? This is going to be even more fun than we thought." Orlov cupped my breasts over the suit, then he pulled the lycra down and exposed them, and started to play with them roughly. I couldn't help it; I was getting aroused. My body was still revved up from my meditation. My nipples stiffened.
    "There we go," he said. He squeezed one of my nipples. A soft moan escaped my lips. Orlov grinned. His hand slid down my costume, between my legs, and he rubbed my clitoris over the thin material. My body started to twitch. I didn't want him to stop. The pleasure distracted me from the roiling pain in my stomach, and in my side. Orlov removed his hand and stepped back from me, contemplating. He walked over to the rack of torture implements. I couldn't look. When he came back, I was somewhat relieved. He wasn't holding a whip or a mace, or anything that looked all that scary. It was just a corkscrew that was attached to a metal egg of some sort. He turned the corkscrew, to demonstrate, and the sides of the egg unfolded, like petals. As he turned the corkscrew the petals kept spreading wider and wider, and wider.
    "So?" I said. Orlov only grinned. He took out a knife and cut out the bottom of my costume. It was only then that I realized the horror of the device he was holding. He meant to split me in two!
    "Now you get it," he said. "Ingenious device, isn't? I tell you, I was born in the wrong age. Seven hundred years ago I would have been a king." He shoved the metal egg into me. It was large, and nearly filled me. Then, he started to turn the corkscrew. At first, there was only a slight pressure, but then, the edges of the petals started digging into my flesh. Blood trickled from my womb down my thighs. It was tearing me to shreds. With every twist of the corkscrew, it was like daggers stabbing at my vagina. The pain was too much to bear. I started sobbing. I didn’t want them to see me cry, but there was nothing I could do to control it.
    "There, there," he said. He let go of the corkscrew and stood up, and bit down on my nipple. The sharp burst of pleasure almost made me forget about the device. He rubbed his thumbs in circles around my areolas and gently teased my breasts, and then he planted kisses on my neck. His hand stroked my inner thigh. I let out the subtlest moan, but he heard it. He stopped pleasuring me, and returned to the corkscrew. When I felt that horrid pain again, I nearly snapped. He was torturing my mind, and my body.
    I was getting woozy from the egg tearing up my insides, and that caused Orlov to stop. You couldn't torture someone if they were passed out.
    "Let's take a break, Ivan," Orlov said. "She needs to recover her strength."
    "Why don't you just get it over with," I muttered weakly. A superheroine must be defiant to the end.
    "Ivan, show her what you want to give her." The giant unzipped his jeans. One could expect that his cock would be just as big as every other part of his body. The thought of that inside me, after everything that had just happened- that was when I passed out.

   "But she's all messed up now," I heard the giant's deep baritone complain as I came to. They had removed my manacles, and I was lying on the ground. I could barely move. The torture had zapped all my strength, and all my will.
    "Are you saying you're not going to fuck her?" Orlov said.
    "You wrecked her good, boss. No one's gonna fuck her now, unless their doin' it for charity."
    “Kill her then. We’ll dispose of her body in the morning.” They were already talking about how they were going to ‘dispose’ of me. It was all over. But, it couldn’t be. It wasn't fair.
    “Wait,” the giant said. “Could I fuck her with a dildo?”
    "Why don't you ask her? Honeybun, do you mind if my large friend fucks you with a dildo?"
    "You won't...get away with this," I managed to say.
    "I think that's a yes. Now, if only I had a dildo. Ivan, there's a bottle of cheap Merlot upstairs. That should suffice."
    "Okay, boss." Ivan left the room.
    "No...please. You can't do this. I'm a superheroine. I’m L-Girl," I protested. Orlov kneeled down beside me and stared into my eyes.
    "After this," he said in an undertone, "you'll be dead. So what's the difference?" Then he kissed me. I spat out the vile taste of his lips. He stood up, laughing haughtily. Ivan returned, holding a wine bottle. I saw that sparkle in his eyes again as his massive form stood over me, gazing at my supine body. He knelt beside me and scooped up my wrists in one of his hands and pinned them to the floor above my head. Then he pushed my thighs apart with the bottle. He put a gob of spit on the wide end of the bottle, and held it between my legs.
    "Please, don't do this," I pleaded. "I'll do anything. Please don’t hurt me." Ivan ignored my pleas. With one, hard, indelicate thrust, using his massive strength, he jammed the bottle into me. I screamed. The force he used was devastating, without any regard for my sensitive body. The pain from all my wounds started anew. He thrust the bottle in deeper. I screamed again. Nearly half the bottle was inside of me. Then, he started to pump the bottle in and out me, ramming it against the back of my womb. I screamed my throat raw as the edges of the bottle scraped against my lacerations, making new ones. But the rhythmic pounding, despite all the pain I was in, was arousing me nonetheless. Sweat dripped down my thighs and breasts, and my back arched involuntarily. I moaned. Ivan responded by pumping the bottle more forcefully. My confused and irritated clit sent sensations all throughout my body. I gasped. I screamed. Oh! If there was anything more painful or more pleasant. The giant stared into my eyes. I was his little pleasure toy.
    I tried to suppress it, to hold on to a shred of dignity, but my whore body betrayed me. I came, shrieking, shaking in convulsions. When the giant yanked that big bottle out of me I nearly fainted.
    "I don't feel too bad killing a slut," Orlov said. "What do they call you, L-Girl? I always wondered what the 'L' stood for. Guess we'll never find out now. Ivan, kill this stupid whore already. I want to get to sleep." Ivan dashed the wine bottle on the floor. He held the sharp, fractured end of it over me, and finally, I saw an emotion. A faint smile, creeping across his lips. But then that smile turned sharply into a frown. A slender arm clad in black leather reached around and grabbed the broken bottle right of out his hand, and in an instant, turned it around and drove it straight into his gut. The big man groaned and fell over. Behind him stood Agent X in her hot, skin-tight suit, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders.
    "Orlov, you idiot," she said, whirling around. "This one's mine."
    "You can't kill me, Anya. It would be bad for business," Orlov said. She stooped down and pulled a shard of glass out of Ivan's stomach.
    "Dmitri, I always thought you were very handsome," she said.
    "Huh?" She lunged towards Orlov and drove the shard into his skull. He collapsed onto the floor. She turned towards me.
    "My baby!" she cried. “What did they do to my little scrumptious muffin cake?” She scooped me up in her arms. "Let's get you out of here." She carried me up the stairs effortlessly, as though my weight was nothing to her. She ran with me out of the house and onto the lawn, and she let me down on my feet.
    "Hold on to me," she said.
    "Why?" She ignored me and guided my hands around her waist.
    "Hold on tight. I don't want my baby to fall."
    "Fall?" She raised one hand into the air, and I felt the earth fall away beneath me. Before I knew it, we were soaring through the sky above Satin City. Apparently Agent X could fly. I wasn't so super after all.